Malric
She stared down at his words for a moment. She could not simply walk away from this place, she was being held under lock and key. And even if she did manage to flee this room, it would only be a matter of time till the guards spotted that she had gone, and she would be dragged back again.
But time was running short. There would only be hours left until Tavish marched on to the MacCrae lands. She did not want to risk letting him drag his men into a bloody battle that could have been avoided if she played her cards right.
It might have been risky trying to escape, but it was far riskier to stand by and do nothing while she let men fall and die for the sake of her cowardice.
When Martha came to bring her tea, Ailsa motioned for her to shut the door and lowered her voice.
“I need ye to distract the guards tonight,” she told her softly. “Ply them with ale or something of the like. I must get out.”
Martha knitted her brows together, clearly hardly taken with the idea.
“But, m’lady?—”
“Please, Martha,” she begged her. “I need to meet with Malric MacCairn, and it has to be tonight. Tavish wants to march at dawn for a battle that we can prevent if I make it to Malric first. I’ve already wasted enough time here as it is. It could be my last chance to put this right.”
Martha was pale and drawn, and a twist of guilt nagged at Ailsa as she realized just what she was putting the girl through; the amount of stress that was clearly laid upon her head in the midst of all of this.
She was sure that Tavish would punish Martha if he found out what she was contemplating doing—and that was to say nothing of how he would react to finding out his wife had gone behind his back. But sacrifices had to be made if they were to see this through, and she would do whatever it took to make sure that no lives were lost in this foolish clash between clans.
She had reasoned to herself, he would forgive her when he realized that she had managed to strike peace between the two clans and avoid any bloodshed. For as much as Tavish might have been most himself behind the hilt of a sword, he surely would not want to risk his men if he could avoid it.
“Ye have to see what I mean, Martha,” she pleaded with her. “I have Malric MacCairn’s missive. He is… he is open to the possibility of mending what has broken between them. If we dinnae act now, Tavish will march at dawn, and?—”
“If I go against the Laird, I could be cast out of this place,” Martha reminded her, her voice dropping.
“I’ll take any blame,” she promised her without a thought. “Whatever happens, you can tell him it was my idea. Please, Martha…”
Martha paused for a moment.
“Ye really care about this place?” she asked softly, and she nodded.
“I ken that I havenae had the most… straightforward time here,” she admitted. “But I care. I care about the clan. I care about keeping these men safe, if I can. I care about making things right between Malric and Tavish.”
Martha chewed her lip. There was a part of her, Ailsa could tell, that wanted to insist that she stay right where she was. At least there, she could keep an eye on her and prevent her from landing herself in more trouble than she knew what to do with.
Ailsa clasped her hand tightly, doing everything she could to get through to the girl.
“Imagine if it was yer brother or yer husband being led off to a war ye knew that we could stop,” she implored her. “We must do something, Martha. Please.”
Martha let out a deep, shaky breath and glanced at the door.
“Aye. Aye, I’ll do what I can,” she replied, though she hardly sounded convinced. “I’ll bring them ale and spike it wi’ something stronger. The cook has a homebrew whiskey that should do the trick.”
Ailsa pulled her into a hug, and Martha seemed a little surprised by her sudden affection. But Ailsa could find no other way to express how grateful she was for her kindness, for having someone on her side for a change.
Martha squeezed her back tightly and then rushed for the door, clearly already in the midst of putting her plan into action.
Ailsa paced the room impatiently as she waited for night to draw in. Her head was spinning with all the questions she had for Malric, all the ones that Tavish would not answer. How couldsomeone who had been such a good friend to them in childhood have turned into an enemy?
His men attacking them before must have been a misunderstanding. She needed to put it all to rest once and for all, whatever chaos had sprung up between these two men who had once been friends. Tavish might have loathed her for going against his orders at first, but when he realized that she had settled the score, he would surely see what she had done for the kindness it so clearly was.
Tavish had not visited her since he had ordered her confinement, not that she had much expected him to. No, she did not want to see the man that she had glimpsed in his study that morning when she had brought that letter to him if she could avoid it. That man could not be reasoned with, even though Malric had reached out to her in good faith to try to mend the bridges between them.
Malric had been open to a meeting, but Tavish had only thought to reach for his sword to make his problems go away. How could she reason with a man like that when he wouldn’t even tell her what had happened between the clans to cause this in the first place?
Even as she planned her escape, she could not shake the nagging notion at the back of her mind that there was more to this than she could possibly have understood. She had seen more of Tavish than she had ever known existed within him—kindness, even, maturity, and love for his people.
