“Perhaps more than a bit.”
He made a wiping gesture with his hand. “Truly, Ailsa, I understand. I cannae say I cherish it among my best memories, but I do understand.” He pulled in a slow breath. “That’s the past, though. What is to come between us now… It isnae the matter of children. When we are wed, your clan will become mine. I will honor that duty with all that I am. But we must be prepared. War is at our door.”
She lost the battle against her cringe.
“I brought war to your door,” she said quietly. “I understand that, and I am sorry, Ewan. Please believe me, I wouldnae have brought an enemy to yer border if I felt as though I had another choice. If I could have found another way, I’d have done so. But my father… He told us to come here, so I did. I knew it would mean renewing our marriage contract, and I’m sorry for that. Ijust… could not think of another way, but Imustdo what it takes in order to preserve my family’s legacy. I had no other choice.”
There was another excruciating pause.
“Ye make it sound as though marriage to me is second only to war in terms of miseries,” he commented.
She closed her eyes. Christ. She was making a muck of everything, wasn’t she? Her father would never have failed so wretchedly at… anything that had happened during the past day.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didnae mean… Of course, it’s nae like that. I dinnaemindmarrying ye?—”
“Stop,” he said gruffly.
The interruption was an act of mercy. She did not see herself turning her stammering into anything coherent anytime soon.
“Listen, Ailsa,” he said, finally turning to face her. “I understand this is not your choice. I understand that you are merely here out of duty. And that is fine,” he went on when she opened her mouth to protest. “We dinnae need to like one another to be wed. We just need to respect one another. Can ye do that?”
She bit her lip.
“Yes, of course,” she said, though she feared the repercussions of whatrespectmight mean.
This was the same fear, the old fear. The one that told her that when men heard a woman say the wordmarriage,what they really heard wasobedience.
Ailsa had no plans to be controlled. She could not stomach losing her freedom.
She would not give up her autonomy, not for Ewan Buchanan—not for anybody.
But she didn’t say any of that aloud. She didn’t know how. She didn’t know if she should. She couldn’t afford to lose this alliance with Ewan, couldn’t afford to alienate him.
But she feared losing herself in all this.
“Let’s keep riding?” she suggested. If they didn’t start moving, she might start speaking.
“Aye, let’s,” he agreed.
For a while, they rode in a silence that was almost comfortable. They followed the high ground, the hill sloping into a ridge that gave them a long-range view. In the distance, she could see the distilleries that made the whisky for which the Buchanans were famous. There was a flurry of activity in and around the distilleries, though they were too far away for Ailsa to be sure if she recognized any of the men working, either from the day prior or from her trips to Buchanan lands as a child.
Neither of them commented on their mutual decision to pause as they looked down at the workers.
Or, rather, Ewan looked down at the workers—and Ailsa looked at Ewan.
In profile, it was impossible to ignore how rugged and masculine he looked, far more so than his appearance when they were younger. His face had gotten slightly broader with age, his jaw just a bit more defined. It suited him.
But even more striking was the look of satisfaction in his expression as he looked down at his people and their works. Satisfaction, pride… and happiness.
Suddenly, a memory struck her.
“You looked forward to running the distillery,” she recalled, startling him into looking over at her.
“Aye,” he agreed. He seemed surprised that she recalled.
She likely deserved that.
“Are you more involved now?” she prodded, wanting to see that happiness on his face again.
