8
“It took them six weeks to say ‘nay’?” Ailis muttered.
“I kenned that they were slow-witted, but this defies understanding.”
Ailis reread the wrinkled parchment missive from her uncle, which bore her betrothed’s faint signature. She had been called into Alexander’s solar, barely been allowed time to appreciate the large windows and abundant light in the room, before she had been read the letter from her kinsmen. Her tart statement that she could read had drawn a mild response of polite surprise from Alexander, and he had given her the note to read for herself. That had not changed anything. It had simply let her see the somewhat painful truth for herself. Even her own blood wished to use her as a pawn. It did not really surprise her, but it still hurt. She sighed as she sat on a padded bench before one of the windows.
“There is little to understand,” Alexander said. “They plainly say they have no wish to pay for ye or the bairns.”
She ached to slap Alexander’s beautiful face, but crumpled up the message she held instead. “Aye, but they took a long time to do it, and they have taken no action against ye in the meanwhile. Oh, they might cast me aside so callously, but not the bairns. The bairns are far too useful. And now they have lost the good weather. Well, nearly. ‘Tis late August. Soon the fall rains will come, then the winter snows.”
“And then the spring rain, thaw, and mud.” Alexander shook his head. “We could be saddled with your keep for a year.”
That was one callous remark too many, and Ailis leapt to her feet. “Ye need not be saddled with my keep for another moment. I can be out of your way in no time at all.”
Alexander swore. Moving swiftly he was able to stop her from leaving the room. He put himself between her and the door just as she reached for the latch. Simply getting word from the MacFarlanes and the MacCordys had been enough to put him into a bad humor. When he had seen the hurt in her eyes, a pain caused by the cold rejection of her own kinsmen, he had softened. He had wanted to soothe her hurt. That reaction had stirred his fear, the dread he carried constantly that she could and would stir his emotions, and he had responded as he always did—by slapping her away with cruel words. However, he knew he did not want her to leave Rathmor altogether.
“Sit down, Ailis,” he ordered.
“Why? What is the use? My kinsmen and betrothed have cast me out, and ye clearly dinna want me.”
“Oh, I want ye.” He reached for her, but she slapped his hands away.
“Not that way.” Ailis was determined not to allow him to kiss her into unthinking acquiescence.
“Just sit down again.” He bolted the door and almost smiled at the way she glared at him before she returned to her seat. The bolt was far above her head, and he knew that disadvantage annoyed her. “We shall try to talk this out like adults, without rancor or anger,” he said as he returned to the writing table he had been sitting at.
“ ‘Tisna me who has trouble with that,” she muttered, her annoyance growing when Alexander simply ignored her. “What purpose is served by my staying here any longer?”
“If naught else, ye help with the children. It pleases them well enough to have ye around.”
And what about ye? she thought and was briefly afraid that she had spoken aloud. As she had learned of Alexander’s troubled past, she had tried to be patient with him, to understand how much history stood between them. Nevertheless, she found it painfully difficult at times. One minute he was cold to her, the next he was gentle and passionate. He could whisper sweet words all night, then insult her with the sunrise. The man would drive her mad. She suspected that she loved him, that that was why she cared how he felt and could be so hurt by his words, but she did not want to confront the emotion, for then she would no longer be able to deny it.
“What we need to decide is—what does Colin MacFarlane mean by this?” Alexander mused aloud.
“That he doesna want us back. What else could he mean?”
“A great deal, lass, and I think ye ken it. Ye ken the man your uncle is. What game do ye think he plays?”
“The game of ‘toss my burdens into another’s lap’?” She sighed and shrugged when he gave her a mildly disgusted look. “He wants ye to think he has done just that so that ye will ease your guard on us, mayhaps even throw me out so the man can snatch me back at no cost to himself.”
“ ‘Tis what I think,” he agreed. “I have it on good authority that your uncle petitioned the king to have me proclaimed an outlaw.” Alexander found himself divided in how he felt about her horrified reaction to that news. One part of him was pleased, and the other doubtful of the honesty of her reaction.
“Outlawed?” she whispered and shuddered. “That would have allowed anyone to kill ye.”
“Exactly. The king refused. After all, the children are of my blood. I had already sent a man there to make that claim, and it was enough to give me the right to do what I did. Also, a few old friends used their influence on my behalf.”
“And will they help ye if there is a battle?”
“Nay, I couldna ask them to. This is my battle; ‘tis a private battle. I willna have them risk themselves for the sake of my purse and my pride. ‘Tis my vengeance, and I must exact it.”
“Oh, aye, and get murdered what family ye have left.” She knew that beneath the hurt and bitterness Alexander was a good man, and it irritated her to think that even a good man could get blindly caught up in a matter of vengeance.
“Do you believe that your uncle or your betrothed will just step back and ignore the insult I have dealt them? Aye, or the chance to gain more of what is mine?”
“Nay, but I had hoped ye wouldna be so keen to plunge into battle.” She stood up and paced the room. “My uncle wants ye to believe that he is defeated. That could mean one of two things—he has a plan to strike, or he hopes to trick ye into some carelessness. Both things require that ye now let down your guard, that ye believe that he has quit the game.” She turned to look at Alexander, her hands on her hips, and frowned when she saw how he stared at her skirts. “If ye wouldst pull your lecherous mind out from beneath my petticoats, we may yet come to some decision over my uncle’s latest move.”
Alexander felt no embarrassment about being caught indulging in a pleasantly salacious thought. He had been nicely aroused by watching Ailis’s slim hips move as she had paced. Despite sharing a bed with her for six weeks, he still found her every move interesting, almost her every gesture inviting. He met her disgusted look with a smile.
