Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

A ila hastened to open another letter from Murdoch, finding solace in the corner of one of Callie's healing chambers. Utilizing the morning light streaming through the window, she eagerly devoured his words, yearning to read more.

Since Murdoch's initial response a few days ago, their exchange of letters had become a constant, clandestinely hidden in an alcove on the upper floor of the castle, concealed behind a statue of the last Laird of Chattan. While Murdoch had not explicitly reciprocated her feelings in his first letter, which left her with an aching heart, he had expressed a desire to know her better.

"My dearest Aila…" she recited aloud before continuing silently.

"Ye spoke in yer last letter o' this unease that permeates this castle. Why is that? I wonder. Surely ye can see ye are warmly welcome here, by nae only yer sister and yer brother-in-law but also by the Laird Chattan. Whatt is it that keeps ye hiding in the shadows, Aila? Why should ye hide there at all?"

She nibbled on her lip, contemplating his words. Someday, she might be tempted to confide in Murdoch about the truth of what transpired between her and Fiadh all those years ago. Perhaps he, more than anyone else, would understand without judgment.

The door to the healing chambers swung open, and Aila hastily attempted to stow away the letter. In her haste, she dropped it, and it floated to the ground like a fallen leaf.

Callie and Avery entered, their hands entwined as they shared joyous laughter. Absorbed in their conversation, Aila swiftly placed her foot over the letter, concealing it entirely beneath her skirts.

"Aila, there ye are," Callie exclaimed, hastening toward her. "Hmm, you appear pale again." She gently lifted Aila's chin, adjusting her gaze.

"Only ye, Callie, would fret over my complexion so much. I am perfectly fine."

"Aye, aye, sae ye are. And Scarlett is nae tired after caring for her newborn son. See? I can tell lies just as well as ye." She hurried over to one of her benches and retrieved a small glass vial, thrusting it towards Aila. "Here."

"What's this?"

"A tonic. It lifts the spirits," Callie eagerly explained.

"Ha'e ye taken it? It wad certainly explain yer happiness a' the time." Aila mirrored her sister's actions, momentarily bouncing on her toes, prompting Callie to laugh.

"I dinnae need it." Callie responded, stealing a glance at her husband. Avery stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and playfully winked at his wife.

Aila averted her gaze from the couple, feeling a pang of guilt, as if she were intruding on their private moment together. She patiently waited until they became engrossed in each other, seizing the opportunity to retrieve her letter. Bending down, she swiftly snatched it from under her billowing skirts and discreetly tucked it into her pocket.

"How did ye fare with the scout the other day?" Avery inquired, stepping further into the room. "Was he of any help to you?"

"Nay, he was nae," Aila replied.

Avery cursed and paced in a small circle.

"We've been searching for months, and still, nothing."

"I ken." Aila sighed, resting against the window behind her, her gaze fixated on the world beyond and the distant mountains. "This world is starting to feel overwhelmingly vast. It's as if Fiadh is but an ant on those mountains, and no matter how hard I try, I can't find her." Her finger grazed the warped glass of the lead frame, as if she could reach out and touch those mountains.

"We will find her. We must." Callie asserted, busying herself with preparing another tonic. "Is there nothing else we can try?"

"Aye, there's something." Avery stepped forward. "I ken of another scout, but he spends his time in the borders. He may be able tae help us, but we'd need tae send a messenger tae him."

"What messenger?" Aila eagerly inquired.

"I can arrange for a messenger tae come tae town and meet ye. Would ye write a letter tae him, Aila? Explain yer situation and everything ye heard about Fiadh and her husband. If the messenger can deliver a letter tae the scout on the borders, perhaps he can uncover something."

"Aye, I'll do it." Aila was weary of fruitless searches that yielded no results, but she refused to give up. "I'll write the letter. Just tell me where tae meet him."

"I'll make the arrangements." Avery hastily left the room, leaving Callie to tend to her work and Aila to gaze out the window. She shifted her focus from the mountains and directed her gaze toward the sprawling lawns surrounding the castle.

Soldiers were engaged in training, wielding broadswords and slender foils designed for swift strikes. Among the groups of soldiers, she spotted two familiar faces. One belonged to Ian, and his opponent was Murdoch.

Aila could not help but smile as her eyes fell upon Murdoch. Finally, she had glimpsed a glimpse into the depths of his heart, and it was more tender than she could have ever imagined. The way he posed questions, eager to know her better, was a forbidden indulgence while on the hunt for Fiadh, but she found herself unable to resist. His letters had entangled her heart further.

Observing the duel between Ian and Murdoch, Aila witnessed Ian gaining the upper hand, parrying swiftly. Murdoch was forced backward, and then Ian struck with precision. Murdoch dropped onto the grass, lying on his back. With remarkable swiftness, Ian raised his blade over his friend, causing Aila to pause with her hand on the windowpane.

Ian suddenly burst into laughter, tilting his head back, and extended his hand to help Murdoch up. It was evident that Ian was the superior fighter between the two of them.

Aila breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that Murdoch had not been harmed. As she continued to watch them, Ian glanced upward, his gaze landing on the window where she stood. For a few moments, he held her gaze without looking away, and even from this distance, the intensity of his stare caused a furrow to form on Aila's brow.

Why does he always stare at me?

Ian eventually averted his gaze, and Murdoch never glanced in her direction.

She still says nothing . Ian sat outside the castle, perched low on a dry stone wall as he read Aila's latest letter retrieved from their secret hiding spot. Despite his numerous inquiries, urging her to reveal her anxieties and reasons for hiding within the castle, she remained silent.

Frustrated, Ian vowed to write another letter, determined to press her harder for the truth. Their recent correspondence had unveiled something Ian had been unwilling to acknowledge before: Aila possessed goodness. The way she wrote about Callie and her deep affection for her sister revealed the presence of a compassionate heart concealed within her reserved demeanor. It was a quality that needed to be coaxed out further.

She still does nae trust me . Ian chuckled at the thought, realizing that if Aila knew the true identity of her correspondent, she would never place her trust in him at all. Just a little longer, and perhaps she would confide in him.

"Ian? There ye are," Elliot's voice called out to him.

Ian hastily stashed the letter in his waistcoat pocket and stood up, leaving behind the weapons he had been practicing with that day on the wall. Elliot hopped up onto the wall, grabbing one of the weapons. Murdoch followed closely behind, hurrying to catch up.

"Will ye agree to join us for a drink in the tavern tonight or face certain death?" Elliot playfully declared, swinging his weapon.

"Hmm, a tricky decision tae make." Ian pretended to ponder, scratching his chin, and then lunged forward, catching Elliot off guard. Grasping Elliot's wrist that held the weapon, he deftly bent it backward.

"Ah!" Elliot dropped the sword and shook out his hand. "No wonder no one wants to face you on the battlefield."

"Ha, I can see why." Ian picked up the sword and returned it to his belt. "So, ye want a drink at the town tavern, then?"

"Aye," Murdoch replied on behalf of Elliot. "The laird and Avery have agreed tae come for a quick dram tae, but they will nae stay long."

"Why would they?" Elliot asked.

"Aye," Ian nodded approvingly. "Noah has a son tae care for now, and as for Avery, well, his priorities micht be with his new wife now. He will not be away for very long," mischievously, prompting Elliot to burst into laughter and Murdoch to shake his head.

"Cannae blame him for that. His wife is a beauty," Elliot whistled, his words laced with admiration.

"Shh," Ian scolded, waving a hand at him. "Don't let Avery hear ye say that. He might challenge ye to a duel."

"Then I'll just compliment her sister instead." Elliot shrugged as if it mattered little. "Quiet soul, eh?"

An image of Aila flashed across Ian's mind.

"Too quiet." Ian murmured, shaking his head.

"Come now." Elliot nudged him with his elbow. "Surely ye would nae refuse the lass if she offered ye a night, would ye?"

"Let's talk about something else for a change, shall we Elliot?" Murdoch interjected wearily, taking Ian's place on the wall and settling down, grasping one of the dirks that typically adorned Ian's belt.

"I'm only teasing. Ye would nae refuse her, would ye?" Elliot nudged Ian again, persisting with his playful banter.

A brief, intrusive image flashed through Ian's mind of Aila lying beneath him in a bed. This time, the thought lingered, and his newfound knowledge about her made it increasingly difficult to dismiss. There was an undeniable allure in the idea of bringing such a quiet woman to the heights of pleasure. Would her cheeks flush a deep crimson? Would she have the confidence to moan his name as he introduced her to the pleasures they could share? Or would she simply make soft sounds of pleasure? Each possibility thrilled him, stirring a coil of desire in the pit of his abdomen.

"She's too quiet for my taste," Ian hastily remarked.

"Ha! Ye would nae refuse her. Nae man would," Elliot scoffed, refusing to entertain the notion. "Come now, let's head to the tavern for that drink. I'm parched after all this fightin'." He led the way from the castle courtyard toward the drawbridge, while Murdoch stood and handed Ian his weapons.

Slowly, Ian added the weapons to his belt, his gaze fixed on Elliot's retreating figure, his eyes narrowed in thought.

"What's troubling ye?" Murdoch asked.

"What?" Ian turned his head abruptly to look at Murdoch, his brows deeply furrowed.

"Did something upset ye about Elliot talking about Aila?" Murdoch inquired.

"Nay, nothing," Ian lied, securing the final dirk to his belt, surprised to discover that Elliot's words had indeed unsettled him. The mere thought of Elliot or any other man, particularly Murdoch, being intimate with Aila began to grate on him far more than he had anticipated. "Come on, let's get that drink before Elliot finishes off everything they have in that tavern."

""Ye ken he'd give it a try if ye challenged him for it."

"I ken. That's what worries me." Ian glanced back at the castle, disappointed that he would not have the time to reply to Aila that evening. "Tell ye what, ye go ahead. I'll join ye in the tavern shortly."

"Are ye certain?"

"Aye. There's something I need to do first." Ian retreated across the courtyard, passing other soldiers returning to their barracks after a long day of training. "Keep an eye on the tavern's whisky supply for me. I want something left when I arrive."

Murdoch saluted him in answer.

Aila held the two letters in her hands, carefully considering their contents. One was intended for the messenger, as she was to venture into town this evening to deliver it, following Avery's suggestion. The other letter was meant for Murdoch. Although she was still waiting for his response to her previous letter, she had decided to take a chance and address something close to her heart.

Quickly making her way down the castle's top corridor, deep into the west wing, she glanced over her shoulder but saw no one. At this hour, the staff would likely be occupied in other areas, preparing for dinner.

Upon reaching the alcove where the statue of the last Laird Chattan stood, Aila hesitated, scanning her surroundings. The dusty alcove, adorned with a few cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, served as their designated spot to exchange letters. It suited their purposes well since few people ventured so far into the castle.

Stepping behind the statue, Aila slipped the letter into the gap between two bricks, following Murdoch's instructions from his first letter. As she stepped back, she unknowingly walked into a cobweb. The wispy thread brushed against her shoulder and hung down her chest. A plump black spider crawled off the web and onto her skin.

"Ah!" Aila exclaimed, frantically brushing at her chest in an attempt to remove the spider. But it scurried across the upper part of her chest and dropped into the valley between her breasts. "Oh, may God have mercy," she cried, stumbling out of the alcove and into the corridor. She could feel the spider wriggling, attempting to find its way under her corset and gown.

Spiders were one of her greatest fears. In her chamber at her father's house, she had always made sure to keep it free of them, often requiring Fiadh to come and catch the spiders lurking beneath a tankard.

"Nay!" Aila tugged at the top hem of her gown, no longer concerned if anyone saw her. She couldn't bear the thought of the spider on her body any longer.

"Aila? Is that you?" a voice called from further down the corridor.

She turned toward the voice, not considering who it might belong to, and frantically pulled at the neckline of her gown.

"I cannae get it out," she cried. "Tear it!"

"What?"

"Tear the gown!" she commanded, then looked up, locking eyes with the man she had just asked to rip open her gown. "By all that's holy..." Ian stared at her.

"Ye wish me tae tear yer gown?" Ian asked, halting in front of her with a visible amusement. His lips stretched into a wide smile as he tilted his head to the side. "Do ye realise the request ye've just made?"

"I have a spider in my gown. Do ye think if I could, I wouldnae handle it myself?" She tugged desperately at the hem once more, attempting to tear it, but only managed to create a small rip. "Oh, God..." The wriggling sensation intensified, the tickling feeling growing deeper. "It's under my corset."

"What?"

"The spider is in my corset." She spun around in a circle, fearing the spider would bite her. She had heard tales of spiders in these parts that could deliver a venomous bite. Although rare, the possibility terrified her. Spinning back to face Ian, she pleaded once more. "I beg of ye, tear the gown!"

His eyebrows rose with amusement, but he reached forward without hesitation. His large hands grasped the neckline of her gown, and he ripped it open. The tearing sound filled the air as Aila stared down at the result. He was strong, and with a firm tug, he had ripped open the entire bodice of her gown, exposing her corset.

Rushing to the opening of the corset, she loosened the top laces, oblivious to Ian's presence and solely focused on the spider. Once she had undone a few laces, she widened the gap, revealing the inner sides of her breasts, and reached into the corset, searching for the spider.

"Well, this wasnae what I antecipated."

"Ye snake!" Aila turned her back on Ian, realizing how much of her body she had revealed to him. Finding the spider, its swollen body rigid between her fingers, she threw it away. The black speck struck the stone wall before scurrying off into the gaps between the rocks. "Och! That was dreadful."

She bent forward, checking her body for any signs of a spider bite. She continued running her hands between her breasts and across her waist when she heard a deep rumbling laughter behind her.

Slowly, holding the corset closed, she stood upright and turned around, meeting Ian's gaze.

"Quite a spectacle," he remarked, his tone appraising, unable to suppress his laughter.

"It isnae amusing."

"Nay? Not at all?" He gestured toward her. "Ye have just exposed quite a lot of yerself to me, and for what? Because ye had a spider in your corset?"

"Some spiders do bite!"

"Most dinnae."

"And ye're saying ye wouldnae have dropped yer trousers if a spider ended up in there?" She pointed straight at his crotch and blushed a deep shade of crimson as he continued to smile at her. "What? Why are ye still smiling?"

"Ye might want tae take hold of yer corset again."

"Ah, ye are a demon." She looked down, noticing that when pointing at him, she had loosened her grasp, and part of the corset had fallen open, revealing part of her breast once again. She quickly moved to hide herself, stepping back from him.

"And this is the gratitude I receive for helping ye?" He spread his arms wide. "I could have refused tae tear yer dress for ye and left ye there tae struggle." "I notice ye didnae need too much persuasion," she challengingly pointed out. For some reason, Ian ignited something within her—a passion for argument, a desire to put him in his place as he so often did to her. She felt unlike herself whenever she was around him.

"A little." He held up his hands. "But a fine woman asking a man tae tear open her gown is quite the temptation. I challenge any man tae have refused ye in that moment."

"Oh, listen tae ye!" She was flustered, retreating from him.

Wait, did he mean he finds me attractive? Nay! That cannae be possible.

"I speak plainly, Aila. I always do."

"I had noticed that about ye by now."

"Then I'll speak plainly again. That..." He laughed and gestured toward her. "That was absurd. Ye exposed yerself to a man all because of a spider. Imagine if I were a rogue or some wicked man. The consequences could have been unthinkable."

"What do ye mean?" "Do ye not think there are men in the world who would take advantage of ye right now?" His eyebrows rose high as she froze a few steps away from him, still attempting to hold her corset shut.

She swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. She hadn't considered it in that way; she had only been desperate to escape both the spider and him. A sound echoed down the corridor. Footsteps, drawing nearer to her.

"Och, nay" she whispered, looking at Ian, unsure of where else to direct her gaze. She could run, but someone was approaching the corridor, and they would undoubtedly spot her if she fled. Turning on the spot, she frantically surveyed all the doors.

"Dinnae even think about it. All these chambers are locked," Ian whispered urgently.

"Then what should I do?" Her eyes darted to the end of the corridor. She could now see a shadow emerging, someone drawing closer.

"Keep quiet." Ian's voice was suddenly close to her ear as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"What are ye doing?"

"That's nae keeping quiet now, is it?"

He guided her into the alcove behind the statue of the old Laird Chattan. stumbling, she ended up pressed against the wall, with more cobwebs surrounding her. She tried to brush them away, lifting her hands, but found Ian standing in front of her. He shielded her from view of the corridor, his imposing figure towering over her own.

"What in God's name do ye think ye're doing?" she hissed.

"Ye wish tae be discovered? All right, as ye wish." He started to move back. If he took another step, she would surely be seen. Out of fear, Aila reached out and gripped his bicep, holding him in place. The widening of his stormy eyes left her breathless, suddenly realizing the precarious position they were in.

This was nae supposed tae happen.