Chapter Three
Ellie had done everything she could to avoid Aidam since he had kissed her. She did not know what to say to him or how she should behave. She could not deny to herself that she had enjoyed how his lips felt against hers and how his hands had fit in her hair—but thatdidn’tmean she was happy about it. In fact, it only made her angrier! She wanted to deny it happened entirely, but how does one forget a kiss like that? Of course, she had never really been kissed before. She was a lady and spent her time avoiding the light, fleeting pecks attempted from the village boys, stolen here and there during a hunt or a festival. But Aidam…his kiss was something else entirely, unavoidable. Her cheeks flushed when she remembered how she had willingly parted her lips, allowing him entry, how she had pressed her body against his, and the wet heat that seared through her. It was as if his kiss had been changing her. Turning her into someone else. Someone wanton. Even now, thinking on it, she felt that same heat pooling in her center.
Who does he think he is, anyway? My life has been decided for me. Does he think his lips are so powerful that they can change the world?
Aidam was infuriating. Yet, she had larger issues to worry over, and his kiss could not have come at a worse time. She didn’t know why she didn’t just tell him the truth. Perhaps he was telling the truth when he offered to help. But how could she turn him from his uncle, the man who raised him? Then when he accused her of being no more than a fickle lass, unfit to wed, she had allowed her anger to win over. No, she would receive no help from Aidam. She was in this mess on her own, and she would have to get out of it on her own as well.
She would be leaving in the morning, abandoning the lands of Clan MacAskill and everything she had ever known and traveling to the lands of her betrothed. A chill went down her back. Laird Sinclair had not been mean or cruel, yet his words were sure and filled with promise. Whatever agreement he had reached with her mother would be impossible to break. Ellie had barely seen the Laird since his proposal, but she wasn’t too surprised by that. He had a lot to arrange, preparing for his—their—return to his home. She knew she couldn’t run now. Sinclair was more powerful a laird than even her own father was. He had far reach, and he would find her. No, she would have to modify her earlier plan now. She would travel to the Sinclair keep with the laird, but she would not be his bride. Once there, she would find a way to make the idea of marriage to her untenable. She would have to find some way to convince the laird that marriage to her was not what he wanted.
But because of this, and because she had been avoiding Aidam, Ellie found herself doing something that she never thought she’d willingly do again—spending time in the presence of her mother. Evander had pleaded it of her, and how could she refuse the boy when she was going to leave him so soon?
“Ellie?” Evander said tentatively. “Mother asked ye something.”
Ellie blinked. Her mind had been wandering, but he was right—Mother had said something. “I…what?”
“I just…I ken ye think I’ve taken away yer choice in the matter, Heloise,” Lady MacAskill said in a hesitant voice. She was rarely hesitant around Ellie these days. It struck Ellie as odd. The two of them hadn’t argued at all since earlier in the day, before the kiss, but the room was a strained middle ground.
“Until this morn, Ithought,I was still able tae make up my own mind,” Ellie told her. She didn’t snap. In fact, her voice was almost gentle.
“Heloise, Lachlan is a good man. He will make ye comfortable.” Her mother’s voice was strained. If Ellie didn’t know better, she would swear the older woman sounded pained by her own matchmaking.
“How can ye say such a thing?” Ellie asked softly. “He’s older than my—” Ellie glanced away, and her mother abruptly looked down at the fine plush carpet. The unspoken word, ‘father,’ hung in the air between them, threatening their fragile peace.
“I’m sure that Mother has thought about this a lot,” Evander ventured. Sweet little Van. Ellie doubted he would ever be ruthless enough to be the powerful laird that her father had been, but perhaps his compassion would be enough to help the clan prosper.
It’s nae gonnae be me concern by then anyway. As far as they ken, I’ll be Lady Sinclair.
“I have,” their mother agreed.
Ellie looked skeptical, which annoyed her mother. She didn’t care. Who was her mother to make such a choice for her? Especially after whatshehad done…
“Ellie’s a grown woman now, ye ken,” Evander continued. “But if ye think that Laird Sinclair is the man who can make her happy…”
“Make me happy?” Ellie repeated. She still didn’t sound angry, just very, very tired. “How can he make me happy? What does he even ken of me, Mother? Does he love me? Does he even like me?”
Ellie didn’t want to listen to her mother’s excuses, but she forced herself. She needed to know her burgeoning hatred for her mother was rooted in genuine emotion. She was not, as Aidam had said, immature. Of course, he didn’t know the truth of her circumstance, yet still, the words stung.
“Laird Sinclair—Lachlan—has promised ye kindness. He thinks ye lovely, and he’s a fair-looking man for his age as well. He’s promised that he can take some of yer sadness away. How could I say nay to such a match? Ye’re lucky anyone wold have ye at all with how headstrong ye are lass. It’s done. The papers are signed. Ye will be gone in three days' time. I suggest ye make th’ most of it.”
Evander looked down at the floor. Ellie reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. No matter the despair she felt at her own situation, she knew that her brother didn’t want her to leave, and she knew that he suffered his own pain, but there was little more she could do for him now.
Lady MacAskill stared at Ellie with wide, tired eyes. To Ellie’s surprise, the complex emotions that swirled there were too many to name. Her mother looked disappointed, yes, and frustrated too—but there was sorrow there, a deep sorrow somehow separate from her mother’s grief and perhaps, if Ellie dared to hope, guilt regarding her father’s death.
What else does she have to be sorrowful about? Her troublesome daughter will soon be gone, and she’ll be ruling a clan in all but name until Van is of age.
Ellie shook her head. She was starting to let the bitterness in again, and she’d only just managed to quash it. She couldn’t let it take control. “Say what ye have to say, Mother,” she said. “I can see it in yer eyes. Ye wonder what possible objections could I have to this match? Laird Sinclair is yer friend, is he nae?”
Her mother paused for so long that Ellie doubted she would answer. When she did, her voice was strangely hoarse. “Lachlan Sinclair has been a friend to this family for a long time,” Lady MacAskill replied slowly. “He’s been good to us. He’s helped when we needed finances, and he’s been at our side in clan warfare. Politically speaking, a match between yer father’s daughter and the Laird of Clan Sinclair is perfect.”
“But?” Evander asked.
“There is no but,” Their mother said. Though she replied to Evander, her eyes were still on Ellie. “Ye love tae say ye’re grown. Consider yerself with a daughter, a child ye’ve raised close to yer heart. Now imagine giving her away to a man twice her age to be sent far from ye. ‘Tis nay easy for any of us. But the decision is final. Ye will marry Laird Sinclair, and I’ll hear nay more of it.”
Ellie felt a stir of something. Yes, she could see where her mother was coming from. Shecouldsee why that would be difficult—perhaps even impossible—for a mother to lose a daughter. After all, the Sinclair lands were relatively far from here. Once Ellie left, there would be very little visiting between clans except for important events. Yet, seeing that through her mother’s eyes only secured Ellie’s anger and caused more confusion. If her mother truly loved her and did not want her to leave, why the rushed betrothal? Why send her to be the bride of a man closer in age to her father than herself? It made no sense. Her mother was pushing her away, and Ellie knew it was because of her father’s death and the guilt her mother felt for her role in his demise.
Not for the first time since her father’s death, Heloise’s bitterness bubbled to the surface. She could easily blame her mother for all of it. It may have been her father’s hand that had held the knife, but it was her mother’s soul that pushed the blade down. Lady MacAskill was far from faultless. Even though Ellie had loved her once, she could not conjure that feeling any longer. Yet still, part of her, no matter how much she buried it, longed for their lives to be again as they were before.
“I wish ye kent it isnae easy for me tae lose ye, Heloise,” her mother said softly. “Nae so soon after I lost yer father. But I have tae put the clan above yer childish desires.”
