Chapter 5

5

C astle Geamnaben was nothing like what Tillie expected. The name meant jewel of the mountain, but as she stood staring at her new home, her jaw hanging open and her eyes wide, she decided the only thing true about its meaning was that it stood on a mountain.

It was huge, but that was about all it had going for it, Tillie noticed glumly. It stood high up on a craggy mountain, surrounded by not one but two huge stone walls. One wall surrounded the lower portion of the hill while the other was higher up, around the castle itself. A winding dirt and rock path led up to the castle, and her heart dropped knowing she would have to climb that path.

As the group stopped and sat atop their horses looking out at the castle, Tillie wished with all her heart she could just turn around and go back to MacFair Keep. While her home was large, it was smaller compared to Castle Geamnaben and could easily fit inside.

The castle was surrounded on three sides by the sea, putting it in a very strategic defensive position.

They started riding, crossing through the grassy meadow dotted with large boulders that led to the front gates of the castle. The nearer they drew, the worse the castle looked. Its gray walls were dull and covered with ivy and moss along the sides. A gray cloud seemed to hover over it, giving it an even more gloomy look.

When they reached the main gate, guards opened it and let them ride in. That was when Tillie realized the first stone wall was to protect the village within. People scattered and moved out of the way as they rode through the main thoroughfare.

As Tillie looked around, she noticed the village wasn't in great shape either. It was as if they figured since the castle was crumbling, why should they take pride in their village? Or perhaps it was that the Laird wasn't doing his duty. Either way, she noticed the adults looked depressed. Maybe they were still in mourning for their lost lady.

Once they left the village, it was a steep path up to the castle where the second wall was. Here was another gate, armed with guards, that immediately opened for the Laird and his party to ride through. There were huts here, too, indicating some of the clan lived within the actual castle wall, but the people here didn't look any more pleased than the ones below.

The Laird dismounted and helped Tillie off her horse then turned to the stable boy who had run up to them

"James, please see to our horses," Aidan said. He started walking toward the castle without another word, and Tillie rushed to keep up with him.

He glanced briefly at Tillie. "Welcome to Castle Geamnaben."

"'Tis… lovely," Tillie said hesitantly. "I… uh… look forward to seeing it fully."

Or it will be.

While Tillie had been lost in thought, Aidan had walked her up to the door and opened it for her. He stood to the side to let her enter first.

"Thank ye," Tillie said and glanced over her shoulder at him, only to realize he expected her to go in by herself. He was already walking away toward the stables.

"Insufferable man," she mumbled beneath her breath.

She stepped into the inner hall, a place to wipe mud, snow, and ice off of shoes before going into the main castle. It was large and a mess with things scattered everywhere. It seemed more of a storage room than the first thing guests would see upon entering. Weapons, though, seemed to be the theme as there were swords, axes, shields, and all other manner of warrior things leaning against walls and scattered around the room.

Next, she walked into the great hall and gasped. It was — or rather, it would be if it had been kept up — exquisite. Two huge hearths dominated walls across from each other. Both were lit and gave off some warmth, thankfully. Tillie walked over to the closest one and held her hands in front of the fire, sighing as warmth started to seep inside. She hadn't even realized she had been so cold.

As she warmed her hands, she looked around. Castle Geamnaben could be so magnificent. The high-arched ceilings had intricate carvings in them, but they were so clouded by soot from the fires and just being unkept that it was hard to tell what was carved there. The furniture scattered around the hall was in disarray, and most of the chairs would need reupholstering to restore.

And they are worth restoring , Tillie thought. She could tell they were of high quality, including the small corner chairs that had three legs and fit perfectly into a corner. The good furniture was mixed with crude wooden benches and chairs. It was a mix-match of elegance and disarray.

Why would the Laird lie about its condition? In the letter he'd sent, he had made it sound like his home was fit for a princess. True, she'd only seen the outside, the inner hall, and the great hall, but she couldn't imagine the rest of the place would be much better.

Where are all the servants? Why has no one come forth to greet me or at least offer refreshments?

Tillie knew they were around. She'd heard feet skuttle against the stone floor and whispers, but she hadn't even caught a glimpse of anyone.

About that time, the Laird walked in, and Tillie swung her gaze toward him. His hair was wet, as if he'd taken the time to bathe or at least wash his face, before seeing to her. Anger churned in her belly, and her eyes narrowed as she watched him walk over to her.

"I'll show ye to yer chamber," he said when he reached her.

"Aye, Me Laird."

Tillie bit her bottom lip to keep from saying anything else. The servants, who were so obviously hiding, didn't need to see her temper before they'd ever even officially met her. But inside, she was seething. The Laird had gone out of his way to lie to her about his home, and she would demand an answer for his duplicity.

Tillie quietly followed him up a massive staircase and then another and another until they reached the tower rooms. She wasn't surprised her chamber was on the top floors since that's how it was at MacFair Keep as well.

He opened a door at the end of a hallway and stood back, so she could enter. Remembering how he'd just left her at the castle door last time, she shook her head and pointed inside the room. She wanted to talk to him and find out why he lied, and she wouldn't be able to do that if he took off again.

He raised an eyebrow at her refusal but shrugged his broad shoulders and entered first. Tillie followed, her nose twitching at the strong smell of dust. Obviously, this chamber had not been used in a while, and no one thought to air it out before her arrival.

Stalling so she could gather her thoughts, Tillie went to the window and opened it up, letting in the cool breeze that would help to clear the room of the musty smell.

"Me Laird," she began slowly, "I must say I am surprised at the state of yer castle." He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "Yer letter depicted a much different. . . er . . . appearance. Ye led me to believe that Castle Geamnaben was in premium shape, majestic even."

He frowned and cocked his head to the side. "I dinnae send ye a letter."

Tillie's eyes widened in disbelief. She stalked forward, reaching into the inner pocket of her skirt. Finding the letter, which she'd kept with her throughout the entire journey, she pulled it out of the pocket and waved it in front of him.

"Do ye forget this?" she asked. Tillie was waving the parchment back and forth so quickly, he had to grab her wrist to stop the movement, so he could grab the letter. As he read it, the Laird's eyes narrowed, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. He thrust the parchment back into her outstretched hand.

"I dinnae write that," he said matter-of-factly.

Tillie gasped and glanced back at the letter she had treasured. She had hoped that once he got settled, her betrothed would revert back to the person who had written the letter.

"Of course, ye did," she argued. He had to have written that letter!

He shook his head. "Nay, I dinnae. I never received a missive from ye, and I never wrote ye."

Tillie felt like a boulder had dropped to the bottom of her stomach. She stared at him with wide eyes.

"But I thought ye wanted to marry me because of my paintin'," she said, feeling as na?ve as a bairn still in swathing cloths.

And then it hit her. Tillie's parents had been busy with their matchmaking again, and this time she had been the target of choice. Her cheeks heated with so much fire, she was sure they glowed from where she stood. The letter they had given her had not been from the Laird. More than likely, her mother had written it and passed it off as his, all to get her agreeable to wedding the Laird.

"If…" Tillie paused and started again. "If ye were not interested in me paintin', then why did ye choose me?"

"I would ken that would be obvious," he said, looking directly into her eyes. "Yer parents approached me with an offer, and I accepted. As ye might ken, me wife died two years ago and left me without an heir."

Bile rose from Tillie's gut to her throat. Please don't say it , she thought. Please don't —

"I needed a wife and heir, and since ye are a Kilmartin…"

He let the sentence drift off, but Tillie knew what he meant. Since she was of the fertile Kilmartin clan, he agreed to marry her so that she could give him an heir.

Her worst nightmare had just come true.