The room felt colder now, despite the fire’s warmth. Aiden’s frustration simmered beneath the surface, mingling with a sense of guilt and confusion. He couldn’t keep up the pretense forever.
He took another long sip from his glass, the fiery liquid offering a fleeting escape from the mounting stress. He needed to face the reality of his situation.
He couldn’t help but feel the growing distance between himself and Katie, as well as the increasing tension with his family. Finding a solution would be challenging, indeed.
The silence in the room was a rare companion for Aiden. The fire crackled softly, and the shadows danced on the walls as if mocking his inner chaos. He had just poured himself another glass of whiskey when the door creaked open and Griselda entered. Her presence was both comforting and alarming—she had an uncanny ability to vacillate between warmth and severity with just a glance.
“Aiden,” she said softly, stepping into the room with a weary grace. The look in her eyes was a mix of sadness and anger, a blend that only heightened Aiden’s discomfort. “We need to talk.”
He set down the glass and sighed. “Maither, ye’re welcome to join me for a drink, but I’m nae sure there’s much to discuss.”
His mother moved closer, her gaze fixed on him intently. “I’ve heard the whispers, Aiden. The whole castle is talkin’ about this betrothal. ‘Tis nae just gossip—‘tis a matter of concern.”
Aiden forced a calm expression, though he felt the weight of her words. “What do ye want to ken?”
She took a seat across from him, her demeanor shifting to a mix of sympathy and frustration. “How did ye come to choose this English lass? Surely there are other women better suited to our family.”
He hesitated, not wanting to reveal the true nature of their engagement. Instead, he chose to fabricate a story that would shield his intentions.
“Katie is… well, she’s remarkably well-connected and pleasing in many ways. ‘Tis a strategic move, really.”
His mother’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “A strategic move? Aiden, ye ken I can see through yer stories. I ken when ye’re lying.”
Aiden’s jaw tightened. He didn’t want to delve into the truth, knowing it would only complicate things further. “There’s nothin’ to worry about. This is how things are.”
She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with a mix of disappointment and curiosity. “So, ye’re nae really plannin’ to marry the English lass, are ye?”
His silence was his answer, but his expression hardened.
“Ye should be careful then,” she said, her voice tinged with concern. “Ye dinnae want her to think this betrothal means anything. ‘Tis clear enough to me that this is all just pretense.”
Aiden’s eyes flashed with irritation. “She kens exactly what this betrothal is,” he said darkly, his tone underscoring the gravity of the situation.
“Do ye?” his mother shot back, her voice sharp and laden with unspoken worries. “Do ye really understand what yer actions mean for her and us?”
Before he could respond, she stood up and walked toward the door, her departure as abrupt as her arrival. “Think carefully, Aiden. This could have consequences ye didnae expect.”
With that, Griselda left, the door closing behind her with a definitive thud. The room felt colder in her absence, and Aiden was left grappling with the weight of her words. He stared at the closed door, the flickering firelight casting long shadows over the room.
He sank into his chair, the whiskey forgotten as his thoughts churned. His mother’s concerns echoed in his mind, intertwining with his doubts and frustrations. The betrothal was supposed to be a strategic necessity, a mere formality, but the complexities of emotions and expectations had become far more entangled than he had anticipated.
As he sipped his whiskey, another knock sounded at his study door. It was a light knock, and he hoped that Katie had returned.
“Come!”
When Mary walked through the door, he felt a wave of disappointment.
“Me Laird,” she spoke softly, greeting him. “Am I disturbin’?”
“I was about to go find me betrothed,” Aiden responded, rising from the desk.
“Ah, aye, the Sassenach.” She nodded.
Aiden didn’t miss the revealing outfit she was wearing. Her neckline plunged and showed off the milk-white of her breasts, the red shawl around her shoulders failing to cover her or the expensive gold necklace she was wearing. It was a desperate move, something to draw his attention, but all it did was anger him. She had nothing on Katie’s beauty.
“Me betrothed,” he corrected, jumping to Katie’s defense.
“Of course, Me Laird. I meant nay disrespect.”
