Chapter Two
Aidam had never been one for dealing well with the tempestuous emotions of women. Oh, he loved them, of course—they were beautiful creatures, unknowable and incomparable in their wonder. He could spend hours upon days looking upon their bonny faces and running his hands through their soft locks. Indeed, most women thought him handsome, but they never seemed to know that they blessed him withtheirpresence rather than the other way around. Yet, he still felt adrift at sea with no anchor or mooring when it came to the way women showed their emotions.
That wasn’t to say all women were the same, far from it. Some were kindly. Some were cruel. Some were loving, some bitter, some funny, some boring, and others were something other entirely. He’d met and briefly courted many women in his six and twenty years. People called Aidam fickle, but that wasn’t true at all—he was far from that. In his own way, he cared for each and every woman who granted him her time. It was never love—but he never led them to expect love. Each woman who stepped out with him was fully aware that his intentions were not marriage or children. Love was for men ready to settle, and Aidam was not that. How could he, when there were so many women out there so interesting?
There always seemed to be a woman or two on his arm, but none of them, not one, was anything like Lady Heloise.More like a boat at sea bein’ attacked by stormy waves,he thought as he watched Ellie tear off in the direction of the kitchens.
Lady Heloise MacAskill—always Ellie to him—was becoming a problem. He’d known her for many years, and their relationship had always involved teasing and patter. He’d never tried to court her, knowing the lashing he’d receive from her tongue if he attempted any of the sweet talk and light flirting that worked so well for him with the ladies. It was hard for him to remember a time when Ellie wasn’t in his shadow, but when he was first starting to look at girls as more than girls but women, she was young, too young to consider in such a light, a friend was all—one whom his uncle seemed to encourage visits with as often as possible.
That had changed since she turned ten and eight. He’d barely seen her in the four years since. When he’d heard the news about poor Laird MacAskill, though, he’d instantly demanded he be allowed to accompany his uncle to pay respects to the widow and children left behind.
Evander is half a man, where he was nay but a child the last time I saw him, and Ellie…well, I barely recognize her at all.
Aidam watched where she’d fled down the hallway. He wasn’t offended by her dismissal. She’d always been blunt and a wee bit capricious. It was reassuring; at least, some things about her hadn’t changed.
“Stubborn chit, I seen th’ way ye looked to me the day I arrived!” he exclaimed to the hallway, knowing he wouldn’t say it to her face. “She kens she needs me help!”
She’d always been pretty enough, he supposed, but when he saw her as a fully grown woman, things shifted. Her long hair, sharp green eyes, and body that curved gently under her simple black mourning dresses— Aidam longed to touch her in a less than friendly way immediately, yet he also saw his youthful friend in need and wanted to be the one she chose to lean on. The desire to hold and comfort her became overwhelming. He’d quashed it, of course. Even he was not so crass as to flirt with a woman in mourning. So, he’d treated her like he used to—the friend he thought she needed most at the moment. She was hurt, angry, and confused, but sometimes when he made just the right stupid joke, the hopeful glimmer of a smile shone in her eyes. A small return to the girl he knew. That made him proud. He wanted to break through her walls, chip away at her anger until he found more of that girl she had been.
Aidam leaned against the cool stone wall and expelled an exasperated breath. He had tried, but he couldn’t get her out of his mind. It wasn’t love, of course, but how long had it been since he wantedanywoman as much as Ellie? There was a fire right below the surface, ready to harm or to help as it needed—a burning passion that he’d never seen so present in another person, let alone a woman. The week so far had not been without incident between them. Had he not known better, he would guess she sought him out more than once, then thinking better of the impulse, pretended that she hadn’t done any such thing. Then there were the rare times he caught her as she smiled, remembering her father or talking with her Evander.
Aye. She’s trouble.
Aidam sighed and turned to walk away. She obviously wanted to be alone. He’d go and find Evander instead. Better to spend the time with a member of the MacAskill family that wanted his company. It was easy to be around Evander. He adored Aidam. While Aidam wasn’t particularly fond of being looked to as a hero, at least Evander was someone he knew he could help without the nagging need and desire eating away at his mind.
* * *
Ellie again found herself standing out in the rain before her father’s headstone, feeling a little daft. The rain had calmed her, yes—but it had also washed away any façade of anger protecting her from her own embarrassment. Her mother deserved all the censure she doled out, to be sure, but Ellie was too old to be running outside in the rain.
“Och, Father,” she sighed, running her hand along his name emblazoned on the rock. No moss grew yet, of course, but she imagined that in a few years, the cracks and weathering in the stone would be filled with a lovely, friendly green. “What am I to do without ye? Van isnae ready to be a Laird, and Mother…”
Mother. I miss when I could love her. I miss when I thought she was a better person.
“Lady Heloise?”
For a moment, muffled in the fuzzing of the rain, she mistook the deep voice for that of her father. She looked up half in fear and half in hope.It couldn’t be.She held a tight breath before relaxing into an exhale. It was not her father returned from the grave, but rather Laird Lachlan Sinclair, come to find her.
“Did Aidam tell ye where I was?” she asked, forcing a faint smile.
The Laird nodded. The rain had started to lessen a bit, but Ellie found she didn’t mind. In truth, there was something about Lachlan that reminded her of her father, and given everything that occurred already this day, it was a comforting feeling. “I understand how hard it is to lose one who ye love,” he said. “I once loved a lass with all me heart, only to have her cruelly torn away.”
“Jemina’s mother?” Ellie asked, referring to Sinclair’s seventeen-year-old daughter. The young woman had not accompanied her father and cousin, presumably because someone needed to stay behind in the castle while the Laird was gone. Ellie did not remember much about the girl, even though Aidam had been around often when they were young. Jemina and Evander were both younger and not often permitted to travel between the clans for their own safety. Even in peacetime, there were dangers about in travel. As far as Ellie knew, Sinclair’s marriage had been arranged—but then, so had the marriage of her own parents, and they loved each other.
Or I thought they did.
She dipped her head into her hands. How had the world gone so wrong in such a short amount of time? The Laird didn’t answer her question. Instead, he smiled wistfully and said, “Ye ken, Heloise, it’s been ten years since me wife left this world. That’s a long time for a man to be alone.”
Ellie nodded absently, still staring at her father’s grave. “I’ve never been in love,” she told him. “If I’m honest, I dinnae think I ever will be. Love, in my experience, tends to be more damaging than rewarding.”
Just ask my accursed mother.
Lachlan nodded thoughtfully, and Ellie took the opportunity to look at him. He was an old friend of her parents, she knew. She imagined he’d been just as handsome as his nephew when he was young, if not more so. His hair had been brown once, but now it was a sharp, steely grey. His eyes were dark, and his beard thick, still showing strands of that long ago brown. He still had the look of a braw, strong man, only a hair out of his prime. There was no reason he could not marry again, she thought. There must be a plethora of ladies in their own prime that would love to give the old Laird companionship in his later years. Some men, she knew, even married younger maids to secure their heirs. Not that she wished for anything to be taken from Aidam, but the Laird may wish for a son of his own still. He really did remind Ellie of her father. In some ways, it was comforting to be around him. Since her father’s death, she had longed for a strong presence to guide her.
“Heloise, may I ask ye a question?” Lachlan asked after they’d both stood at the grave for a few minutes longer. The rain was disappearing quickly as the clouds cleared from the sky.
“Of course, my laird,” she said.
“Lachlan,” he corrected. He smiled and said, “Am I right in assuming that ye no longer wish to live here in Castle MacAskill?”
