Now she was about to marry a Scot she only knew from healing him. He was far from that man that had nearly died in her arms, and now there was a living, breathing handsome laird in his steed.
“Ainslee?”
Turning toward him, she drew in a breath. “Fine.”
So, they were wed. There were only the family members present that she had seen when they had arrived, and Ainslee stumbled through her vows, surprised when the laird took her hand and slipped a gold band on her finger. When he leaned in, she felt the barest brush of his lips against hers; Ainslee’s breath stilled.
Her first real kiss. She had married a man she had lied to repeatedly.
His mother was the first one to congratulate her, embracing her lightly. “Mah son will be good tae ye,” she whispered. “Dinnae worry.”
Ainslee wasn’t worried about how kind her new husband would be. She was worried for what was about to happen once he found out that she had lied to him.
They had a small wedding breakfast, but Ainslee was unable to taste any of the food provided. Her mind was on the hours ahead, where her husband would realize that she was not through with her deceit.
When they finally made their way to his chamber, Ainslee was nearly beside herself with worry. “This is yer room as well,” Arran was saying as they entered the large chamber. “I will have yer things moved.”
She let out a small laugh. “I have nothing.” She had fled with the dress she was wearing and her small pouch of herbs. Nothing more.
He looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, lass.”
Ainslee waved a hand at him, walking about his chamber. Her heart was pounding in her chest for what she must do.
“Laird, I—”
“Arran,” he interrupted, his hands at his sides. “We are wedded now. Ye may call me Arran.”
“Arran then,” she replied, dropping the raspiness out of her voice. “I have something tae tell ye.”
He arched a brow. “Wot is it?”
With shaking fingers, she undid the dress that had been her shield for so long and let it fall to the floor. Clad in just her shift, she stared at her husband, whose expression was one of shock.
“Why?” he asked after a moment.
“I had tae hide mah appearance,” she replied, her voice shaking. It was hard not to pretend to be Agatha since she had been doing it for so long. “Mah, err, cousin would notice me immediately and demand I return tae the keep. In this disguise, he didnae see who I was.”
Arran made a noise and crossed the room, grabbing the tartan off the bed. “Cover yerself.”
Ainslee wrapped the tartan around her body, the woodsy smell one that she recognized as his.
“I—”
He shook his head, his expression thunderous. “I wilnae start this union between us wrapped in lies.”
Ainslee felt a sense of loss as Arran strode to the door and yanked it open, slamming it behind him. She should have told him sooner, but he was forcing her into a marriage she did not want and, well, there was no time.
What would he do if he found out that she was Liam’s sister and not his cousin?
It was nearing nightfall when there was a tentative knock on the door. Ainslee rose and crossed the room, still wrapped in the tartan that was now her new colors. She had been crying on and off since Arran had stormed out of the chamber, not knowing what her fate would be now that she had shown her true self.
But it was not her new husband on the other side of the door. Instead, it was his mother.
“Ainslee,” she replied, clasping her hands before her, “can I come in?”
Ainslee opened the door wider, and the older woman walked in. “I’ve come tae see how ye are faring, but I see ’tis not going so well.” She then eyed Ainslee’s slim form. “I knew it was a disguise.”
Surprised, Ainslee shut the door. “How did ye know?”
