Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

a n held his breath, completely captivated as part of Aila's corset once again slipped away. His attraction to her intensified, stirring his body at the mere sight of her exposed form. The torn gown hung down around her slender waist, and the corset laces had loosened even further, having been pulled open so wide already. His mind wandered, imagining what it would be like to undo her corset completely and reveal everything. Would she respond to his gentle kisses on her bare breasts? Would she lean into him?

Most likely she'd curse me and wish for my demise.

Silently, he raised a finger to his lips, urging her not to utter a word. Behind them, the footsteps drew nearer, indicating that the person walking down the corridor had a purpose and was in a hurry. They passed by without a pause, indicating they hadn't noticed Ian and Aila.

Throughout it all, Ian kept his gaze fixed on Aila. Somewhere between being entranced by her body and amused by her fear of spiders, he had seen the fear in her eyes—the sheer terror of being discovered. He had backed her into the alcove for her own safety, but now he regretted it deeply. Being in such close proximity to her had caused heat to rise under his shirt, making him perspire with a bead of sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades.

"Are they gone?" Aila whispered, trying to peer around him as she reached for her corset, hastily attempting to close it again. Ian made sure to keep his hands on either side of her on the wall, resisting the temptation to touch her as he leaned back and saw that it was a maid.

The maid unlocked one of the doors at the end of the corridor and entered, leaving the door ajar.

"A maid attending tae a chamber. She's likely tae return this way soon."

"God have mercy," Aila muttered once more, struggling to mend her corset. Ian's gaze wandered down, observing her actions. "Look away."

"It's rather difficult tae."

"Ian!" She smacked his arm quite forcefully, though he simply chuckled in response. "My apologies. You can't expect a man to remain unaffected by this, Aila. It is like ignoring a sword wound"

"Aye, I can well believe that I have such an effect on ye," she retorted mockingly.

"Ye might be surprised."

She paused in her actions, gazing up at him. The widening of her blue eyes caused him to freeze. There was a new dynamic between them, something beyond their usual arguments. It was a tension, an electric excitement that hung in the air. He couldn't help but notice how exposed her figure was and how close his arms were to her. Surprisingly, she did not attempt to break free from the embrace of his arms. Instead, she simply continued to stare at him, her lips slightly parted.

"Of course ye are. Ye've been cruel to me for months, and now ye expect me to believe that just because I... because I..." She gestured at her corset.

"Because ye revealed yerself to me?" he finished for her.

"Aye, and now ye suddenly wish to smile at me? Ha! I find that hard to believe."

"I'm not proclaiming undying love for ye, Aila. Trust me, ye're far too secretive for my liking," he stated, causing her to tense up. She abandoned her laces, failing to tie the knot properly, resulting in them slipping open once again. "But I'm a man, and ye're a woman. I can't deny attraction when I feel it, can I? Oh, and one more thing..."

"What is it?"

"Ye're coming undone again." He smiled and nodded toward her corset.

"Ye devil," she whispered, turning in his arms so that her back faced him.

"If ye want me to stop making comments, this position isn't exactly helpful."

"What do ye mean?"

His mind was flooded with images of lifting Aila's skirt and taking her from behind. The image flashed through his thoughts so abruptly that it intensified the heat within him. He moved his arms along the wall, deliberately putting more distance between them.

The door down the corridor closed once more.

"Shh. The maid is returning," he whispered.

She pressed herself against the wall, and he moved closer, fearful that if the maid happened to glance their way, they would be caught. Stepping further into the shadows, he heard Aila gasp in front of him, but she didn't pull away, even when his chin nearly brushed against her hair. Being so close to her, a captivating scent filled the air—the fragrance of poppies. It was an unexpected sensation that held him captivated.

When the maid's footsteps faded away, Ian remained still for a moment, too distracted to move.

Aila pushed back, pressing her hips into him to move him out of the way. Ian stepped aside, chuckling as she turned to face him, her cheeks once again flushed a deep shade of red.

"Ye never need to fear me, Aila," he said innocently, raising his hands. "I would never force myself upon a lady. I assure ye."

She struggled to repair her torn dress, glancing between the damaged fabric and his face.

"Ye've made a mess of this," she whispered, pointing at the gown.

"Ah well, ye did ask me to. Shall I remind ye of everything that just transpired?"

"Nay!" she hurriedly interjected. "Let no one hear of this, please, Ian. Please."

"Aye, calm yerself." He gestured reassuringly. There was something about the fear in Aila's eyes that pained him, the same fear he had seen when they thought they were on the verge of being discovered. He couldn't bear to witness it. "I will not breathe a word to anyone. Ye should return to yer chamber, but first, take this."

He slipped off the loosely hanging cloak from his shoulders and offered it to her. She hesitated, almost colliding with the statue as she stepped back.

"It's not a lifeless animal. Take it. It will keep ye concealed as ye make yer way back to yer chamber."

"Thank ye," she said tentatively, reaching out to accept the cloak with a hint of uncertainty.

"I've surprised ye once more, haven't I?" he knowingly remarked as she wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, using it to conceal the torn gown.

"A little."

"Well, perhaps I am capable of more kindness than ye realize." He smiled at her, but she did not return the gesture. She continued to nibble on her lip, reminding him of the temptation he had just encountered in the alcove.

Get rid of her! I can't continue like this.

"Ye should go." He stepped back, nodding toward the corridor, urging her to depart. She hurried away, stealing a final glance back before disappearing from sight.

"Aila, ye are an enigma," he whispered to himself as he retreated to the alcove, muttering under his breath. "An intriguing puzzle indeed." The woman he had been with moments ago possessed a fire that Aila seemed to lack on most days. It fascinated him as much as her letters had.

Stepping into the alcove, he prepared to place his next letter to her in Murdoch's name when he noticed a slip of parchment peeking out between the stones.

She has sent me another.

He pocketed it along with his own letter, deciding to read it later, then hastily exited the corridor and left the castle behind.

As he made his way to the tavern, Ian caught up with the others effortlessly, finding them waiting for him outside as night descended upon the town. Noah and Avery eagerly entered the establishment, while Elliot and Murdoch lingered behind.

"Where have ye been?" Elliot called out to him.

"I had some business tae attend tae," Ian lied, noticing his brother's curious gaze before he turned and entered the tavern without further inquiry.

"Aren't ye cold?" Avery asked, gesturing towards Ian's lack of a cloak. "What happened to yer cloak? It's freezing out here."

"I'm nae cold." Ian brushed it off, although his body was tempted to shiver. With the changing of seasons and autumn leaves cascading around them in vibrant shades of scarlet and gold, the breeze chilled him to the core. However, he had no desire to explain what had truly occurred to his cloak.

I will keep my promise tae Aila. I will nae tell anyone what happened.

"Aye, sure ye're nae cold," Elliot chuckled. "And ye're nae shriveling down there because of the cold either."

Ian playfully elbowed him into the tavern as the others erupted in laughter.

With the cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders, Aila raised the collar and buried her face in the wool, trying to convince herself that she had put it on that night not because it carried the scent of Ian and cooked chestnuts—his favorite snack—but simply because it provided warmth. The cloak was a luxurious piece, made of such fine wool that it surpassed any she owned, shielding her from the nighttime chill.

"I still cannae believe what happened," she muttered as she left the castle, hastening across the drawbridge and stealing a glance back, hoping her absence wouldn't be noticed.

Lady Scarlett was with her son, and Callie had gone to attend to them both. Although Callie was aware of Aila's visit to the messenger earlier that evening to deliver her letter, Aila also knew that Callie liked to keep a close eye on her these days.

She watches over me like a mother hen, even though I am the older sister!

Aila chuckled at Callie's protectiveness and continued on her way, grateful for the freedom of strolling under the starlit sky and venturing into town. The stars sparkled overhead like distant jewels, casting their gentle glow upon various corners of the street.

At this late hour, most of the roads lay empty, but a few individuals hurriedly made their way to their destinations. Young couples in the midst of courtship kept each other's company, strolling hand in hand, while the intoxicated returned to their homes. A group of children caught Aila's attention as they merrily tossed rocks down a nearby well, clearly relishing the freedom from their parents' watchful eyes.

She disregarded the scene and pressed forward, heading towards the designated meeting spot that Avery had described. Past the tavern, where a stone cross stood in the heart of the town, stood a man. Clad entirely in black, he shifted restlessly, scanning his surroundings. His long, dark hair flowed down to his waist and was braided at the nape of his neck. A thick, matted beard adorned his face.

"Sir?" Aila cautiously approached him. Underneath her cloak, her hand found solace in the hilt of a dirk secured at her waist. She had grown accustomed to carrying the weapon and now held onto it, drawing comfort from its protective presence.

"Ye are Aila?" he gruffly inquired. "Avery mentioned ye'd be here."

"As ye can see." Aila reached into her cloak and retrieved a letter. "Please, deliver this to your scout." She extended it to him, but the man did not accept it. Instead, he scrutinized her, his gaze lingering longer than she would have preferred.

"I require payment for rendering ye a service."

She reached beneath Ian's cloak, searching for a purse fastened to her belt, and extracted a few coins.

"Ye need not pay me in coin, ma'am. There are other ways ye can compensate me, if ye wish. An hour of pleasant company should suffice," he suggested, his tone laced with lewd implications that sent a shiver down her spine.

Slowly, she raised her head, fixing him with a dark, piercing glare that caused the smile on his face to falter.

"I am no one's paramour, not for any reason," she stated firmly, her strength returning. Thrusting both the coins and the letter toward him, she asserted herself. She had managed to avoid becoming a courtesan during her time at her father's brothel, and she was not about to succumb to such a fate now in her quest to find Fiadh.

"Take it," she pleaded.

Reluctantly, he accepted the letter and the coins, then bowed his head in acknowledgment.

"It shall be delivered within the week."

"Thank ye." Aila nodded, urging him to depart. Now that she held the upper hand in the conversation, she hesitated to turn her back on him, for she harbored no trust towards the man.

As he walked away, pocketing both the letter and the coins, Aila's shoulders slumped, and she let out a sigh of relief.

I dinnae trust him.

She fretted over the possibility that the messenger might abscond with the payment and neglect to visit the scout altogether. If it came to that, then all of Aila's efforts with these scouts would prove futile.

It's time to seek an alternative. I must embark on the hunt for Fiadh myself.

She retreated from the stone cross and made her way back along the road, contemplating other avenues to locate Fiadh. If Murdoch responded to her letter with the desired request, she would, at the very least, have assistance in her mission. Perhaps then she could liberate Fiadh from her sorrow and bring her back home.

Upon reaching the entrance of the tavern, she abruptly halted, glancing over her shoulder. Near the cross, she thought she caught a glimpse of a fleeting shadow. It could have been anything—a mere figment of her imagination or perhaps the messenger himself. Regardless, Aila was not yet confident enough to venture on alone.

I need a drink to steady my nerves. Aye, that should provide some respite.

She cast a glance at the tavern sign and the tightly shut leaded windows, warding off the night's chill. Extending her hand, she grasped the iron handle of the short oak door and stepped inside, adjusting the edges of her cloak as she moved.

Instantly, she was enveloped in warmth from the two roaring fires situated at either side of the room. The tavern was illuminated by tall tallow candles, their flickering flames casting a yellowish glow. Men boisterously laughed, while others engaged in friendly banter. Amidst the crowd, local women had also gathered, either seeking a drink or keeping their partners company.

Aila found herself so captivated by her surroundings, her gaze fixated on everything around her, that she failed to watch her step. Unknowingly, she collided with a burly man, staggering backward as her eyes flickered to his face.

The pewter tray he had been carrying tumbled over, causing some ale to spill onto the floor.

"I beg your pardon." Aila quickly halted once she recognized his dark features illuminated by the candlelight. "Och." She swallowed, mustering her courage. After exchanging letters with him for so many days, she knew she shouldn't feel apprehensive anymore. "Murdoch."