She avoided meeting his gaze, afraid to meet his rich blue eyes directly because of what he might be able to read in her eyes. His question was a difficult one for her to answer. Although he had married her and set aside his vengeance, at least as it concerned her, he had given her no real clue as to his feelings. Pride demanded that she keep her love for him a secret until she could be certain that it would be returned. If she was not very careful in replying to his question, however, that secret would be revealed. Although there were hundreds of times when she ached to speak her heart to him, it was a weakness she knew she would not give in to. Aside from her pride, she feared the hurt she would suffer when Alexander offered no similar declarations.
Alexander sensed Ailis’s reluctance to respond, and he frowned. He grasped her by the chin and gently forced her to face him. It was hard to read much more than wariness in her eyes, but that was enough to pinch at him. He knew he deserved it just as he knew that he was not fully sure of her yet. All thought of making her a part of his vengeance had left him, and although he knew he had done little to assure her of that, he knew that she knew it. Nevertheless, they remained wary of each other. He was suddenly weary of it all. Only when they were caught up in the full glory of their passion was there nothing between them, and that was simply not good enough any longer.
“Come, loving, from the first time she is born, a lass kens her destiny is to be wed, and she begins to make plans. Didna ye ever make any plans or nurture any hopes?” he asked.
“Well, there was one—I hoped that whoever took me as his wife would also take in Mairi’s children and love them. Although what happened wasna at all as I had expected, I have gained what I have wished for.”
“I canna believe that it is all ye thought on.”
“Nay.” Ailis tried to think of some way to phrase her hopes without declaring herself or appearing to demand some response in kind from him. “I did wish for a man who wouldna be too old nor too ugly. I also wished for a man who wouldna beat me nor shame me by bedding nearly everything in petticoats. ‘Tis no more than most lasses wish for, I suspect. ‘Twas as I grew older that I began to wish for something a wee bit different.”
“Oh aye, and what was that?”
“That I would be wed to one who wouldna try to force me to be some meek and mindless wench who must bow to his every whim and willna argue, will agree with his every utterance. I had wished hard for a man who wouldna find what I am naught but a source of fury and shame. I wanted a man who might see me as more than someone to breed his heirs, and more than someone to keep his household in order.” She gave him a crooked smile. “I was just never sure of quite what that more was.”
Although he sensed that she held something back, Alexander decided not to press her on the matter. “Well, now I think I can, and have, filled every one of those wishes. I willna surround ye with squawling bastards. Whilst I would never swear that I would never succumb to a weakness of the flesh, I willna seek lovers and lemans. I willna treat the vows we took as if they are naught but words tossed to the wind.” He touched a gentle kiss to her mouth. “Ah, lass, ye warm a bed well enough for any man.”
“Even for one rumored to have bedded half the women in Scotland?”
“Aye, even for him, though I never met the greedy fool myself.” He smiled when she giggled, but then grew serious again, lightly tracing the shape of her face with his fingertips as he spoke. “Nor do I want a meek wife, for all I may bellow and order ye to recall your place. ‘Twould drive me to a fury to spend year after long year with a lass who did naught but smile and agree. Nay, a wife with some strength and wit can only be good for a man. What soured that in my stepmother, my wives, and Barra’s wife, Agnes, was that they also held greed and guile. Ye dinna taint the good with the ill, lass. I hold no fear that ye will plot behind my back if ye disagree with what I say or do.”
She heard that fleeting expression of trust and felt elated but said nothing. Instinct told her that, if she made a great ado about it, she would halt what was a revealing conversation because Alexander could suddenly realize how open he was being. He had said it, confessed his trust, and she decided that was good enough.
“Is that what Agnes and the others did, Alexander—plot and betray ye?” she asked, hoping that she would finally hear the whole story, would finally discover why he had soured toward women.
“Aye.” Alexander sighed and his face hardened as he remembered the wrongs done to him and Barra. “They held no guilt about using treachery or betrayal to gain what they craved. Power and coin were their only goals, their only loves. Their games and plots brought naught but misery to Rathmor. Aye, and a death or two. The lies my stepmother told and the promises she made as she tried to grasp all the power she could gained us more enemies than allies. ‘Twas one of her twisted plots that led my father to your uncle and his death.”
Ailis wished she had not asked about the women. The very last thing she wanted was to remind Alexander of the anger and hatred he had for her uncle and the MacCordys. She had already taken a chance by reminding him of the grievance he had against women. Although he could see her as being unlike those other women, there was no way for him to see her as not akin to a MacFarlane. She cautiously met his glance and breathed a silent, hearty sigh of relief when she saw none of that fury directed toward her. It was there, simmering behind his fine, desire-softened blue eyes, but it was not directed at her. Finally he saw her simply as Ailis, not simply as a MacFarlane.
“And they also started a war that is yet to be decided,” she murmured.
“It will be done on the morrow.”
It took Ailis a full moment to understand the implications of what Alexander had said. She stared at him with a growing look of openmouthed surprise only faintly aware of how closely he watched her. Then she grew angry and sat up, the sheet clutched to her chest.
“On the morrow?” she repeated in a quiet, taut voice. “There is to be a battle on the morrow?”
“Aye—on the morrow.” Alexander was not surprised by her anger, but he was fascinated by the way it turned her lovely eyes black and stormy.
“And just when did ye plan to tell me about this?”
“On the morrow.”
“In time to dodge the first arrow, I pray.”
She knew that she had been purposely kept ignorant, and it infuriated her. Some of her anger was directed at herself. She had seen the signs of an approaching battle; they had not been able to hide everything from her. Yet she had never questioned, never asked for more information, never pressed for the details. She had been too concerned about her own private troubles, about her child, her ills, and her husband.
What she did not really understand was why—why would they keep her ignorant? Then a chilling thought settled in her mind, one that struck her to the heart. Alexander had kept news of the impending battle from her for one reason—he feared she would betray him. She muttered a curse and leapt from the bed, too furious to be concerned about her nudity.
“Ye dinna trust me. Ye just said that ye kenned that I wouldna plot behind your back, but ‘tis plain to see that ye didna mean in every way.” She bit out the words as she gathered up her flimsy nightrail and started toward the door to her own sleeping quarters.
“Ailis, what are ye babbling about?”
She turned to glare at him, wondering how he had the audacity to look so confused, so handsomely irritated and befuddled. “I speak of my insult, and ye call it babbling?”
“What insult?” he bellowed. He was truly astounded that, for the first time in his life, a woman had him totally confounded.
“Cease this game, Alexander MacDubh.” She jabbed her finger in his direction, giving it an occasional firm shake to stress her words. “Ye waited until now to tell me of this battle because ye feared I would turn spy for my kinsmen.”
