Bound to the Highlander(10)

Aileana jumped.

“Hurst. I’m sorry. I did not see you either.” Her voice squeaked. She smoothed her skirts. “Tell me, will our garden reach its usual potential this year?”

“Ahh, m’lady, you’ll be pleased when the azaleas are in full bloom. The bluebells and hawthorn are coming along and I believe your new roses will be in fine form before long.”

Her uncle had no time for planning combinations of colours and style of flowers, but Hurst was just as enthusiastic as she. When she was but eight summers, she and Hurst had designed the entire front garden and many travellers to this part of the country often stopped by to view the acclaimed Chattan grounds. It gave her something to focus on after her father’s death. Aileana’s responsibilities within the walls of the castle kept her from spending much time in her garden in recent years; however, she loved the brief visits she managed.

“Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, m’lady. Agnes and I are broken-hearted over the laird. You’ll call on us if you need anything.”

She could call on them and countless others at any time. She needed to reassure them they could rely on her for the same. Without knowing it, he’d reminded her of her purpose - them. Whether clansmen from the village or former nobility like Gwen, they all needed her protection. No matter what became of her, she would not let them down. She must find Gawain and set their betrothal in motion.

Aileana nodded and continued on to the castle. The smell of cooking meat met her as she entered the keep, sparking her hunger for the first time in days. Gwen met her in the great hall and took her cloak as Aileana sat near the hearth. The maid stared at her for a moment before she left the room. Gwen returned a short time later with a trencher of cheese, meats, and bread which she placed on a side table.

Gwen’s brow was knit and she chewed on her bottom lip. “Are you certain you won’t take your meal in the dining hall?”

“Not today.” It was the same response she’d given every day since Uncle Iain had died. They shared their meals in that room and she could not yet bring herself to do so alone.

Aileana ate in silence while Gwen stared at her.

“Is something wrong?” Aileana asked.

“Your cheeks have more colour. You look well this morn.”

Aileana remembered the man on the road and her face grew warm. There was no way Gwen could know of her encounter. “I had an invigorating walk.”

“Aye. Walking can do that.” Gwen didn’t leave or change her curious expression.

“Was there anything else, Gwen?”

“Nothing else, my lady.”

Yet, she didn’t move from her spot. The maid was lying through her teeth, but Aileana was too hungry to care. Gwen never did or said anything without reason and was too sharp for her own good.

“Pardon me, m’lady, but you are requested in the solar.” Colleen, the newest maid, wrung her hands. Gawain must be there and ready to talk. She stood while Gwen smoothed her dress and raked expert fingers through her wind kissed tresses.

“May I be of assistance?” Gwen asked, her expression full of concern.

“Aye, please bring refreshments to the solar. I’m certain Gawain will appreciate the offering, considering his early rise this morning.”

Gwen pursed her lips, but she did not say anything. Good. This was nerve racking enough without anyone adding to her trepidation. Though she had no reason to be nervous, Gwen’s frown unsettled her.

Aileana took a deep breath and squared her shoulders as she walked through the stone hallway to the solar. Her uncle had loved this room and furnished it to include the cushioned bench beside the fireplace. She frowned, realizing she would never spend another evening there reading to him. Aileana put the dismal thought away as she reached out to grasp the flat metal latch on the door. Her future lay behind it.

She hesitated and smoothed her pale blue dress again; hoping Gawain would be pleased by her appearance. Regardless of his reserved ways, they needed to address this marriage and his usual tight-lipped manner would not do. Perhaps with no one else around, he would engage in an actual conversation for once. Her life would be much easier if he would just tell her what he wanted instead of shutting her out.

Picturing him, she lifted the latch. She pushed on the door with a smile on her face and an appropriate greeting ready.

The heavy door arced across the floor quieter than a whisper. Aileana scanned the room. At first it looked empty, but she soon saw him sitting in her uncle’s chair behind his writing desk with his back to the door. He twirled what looked like a letter between his fingers. One leg was half slung over the other and the sight of a thick calf muscle surprised her. Didn’t Gawain pad his leg irons?