Maybe he cared less for her opinion than she always thought. That notion brought a strange, uncomfortable feeling to the pit of her stomach.
Poor Gawain. Where was he tonight? Where had he been since her uncle’s death for that matter? It must have been a crushing blow to learn he wouldn’t inherit the estate. It wasn’t fair to either of them to find out like this, and she couldn’t bear for him to think ill of her.
And how was she supposed to shelve years of dislike towards a womanizing Stewart supporter just because a secret letter told her she must? The notion was more than unreasonable. Beyond that, it was unfair, unrealistic, and impossible!
James MacIntosh. Her first impression of him was that of a rogue, yet in her uncle’s solar he was considerate when he offered to assist with the situation regarding Gawain. His second visit was confounding. He’d come and gone so quickly she could see no purpose in it.
If she were honest with herself, she’d admit it wasn’t his thoughtfulness or his strange behaviour that had her reeling—it was him—all of him! From his thick hair, to his unusual green eyes, and the sensual curl of his lips that never seemed to go away, James MacIntosh was the most attractive man she had ever seen. How could she have missed that before?
* * *
James emptied the last few drops of ale from the pitcher. He contemplated the situation and his conclusion one more time. In three days he would betroth himself to a woman to whom he was attracted, but whose connection could provide him with no political advance.
Three days.
He must go through with it, regardless of how difficult it might be to break it afterward. Once done, there would be only one ugly way out of it.
Chapter Five
“Will one of you please, once and for all, tell me what prompted my uncle to pair me with the likes of James MacIntosh? And if either of you ‘there, there’ me one more time I will put you in the stocks myself!” She never would, but her patience thinned with each passing moment. Her two most trusted advisors danced around her questions, treating her as though she were ten again. Enough was enough.
“M’lady—”
“No! No more ‘m’lady’! I want a straight answer from you, Andrews. And I want it now!”
The priest and the steward exchanged an unsure glance, prompting her to place her hands on her hips. Father Addison deflated and collapsed onto the bench with his head in his hands.
“We thought we could protect you from the truth. Believe me when I say, your uncle did not make this decision lightly or without counsel. He was troubled during the time leading up to his visit with the elder MacIntosh and as I recall, it took two attempts to convince the man to accept the arrangement.” Father Addison paused.
“Go on.”
“He wasn’t trying to hurt you, lass,” Andrews said. “As to his reasons, well they died with him.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You must my La—. You must.” He glanced and Father Addison.
She turned to the priest again. “What truth were you protecting me from? What could be so important to destroy my life and Gawain’s?”
Andrews’ harrumph was the last straw. “What John? What is it about Gawain that makes you so cynical? I trust you would never voice any objection about the man in front of my uncle? So why do me the discourtesy?”
Father Addison reached for her but she swatted him away. “I do not need consoling like a fragile child. I need answers. You hold information which may have led to a complete change of heart from my uncle concerning my future.”
How could they not realize she should have been told?
“What was the cause? Which of the three people involved did it concern most? The MacIntosh, a Stewart supporter? No? Maybe it was about Gawain, a man who served my uncle with faithful dedication. No?” Her voice cracked. “Then it must have something to do with me.”
“Lady Aileana,” Father Addison said. “Your uncle had no issue with your ability or loyalty. I understand your concern over MacIntosh involvement here. They are Stewart supporters. Your uncle was certain of it. I remember the night the Guard came to collect your father. Despite assurances he would be compensated, the Laird and he both knew ’twas unlikely. He went anyway, Aileana. He went because his king bade him. Why MacIntosh, or any other clan, would support James Stewart is beyond me, but your uncle thought long and hard about this decision before he made it. You must trust that.”
His tone and his demeanour were sincere, but they were asking her to leap too far. “Trust in that? Well, Father, trust is a wonderful thing when it is expressed both ways. I’m to accept this decision without any rhyme or reason as to how it came about. For all I know, my uncle was blackmailed into this arrangement somehow by the same man who will soon be my husband!”