Chapter Four
Ailis sat ona stone bench in the walled garden, taking in the scent of heather and thyme. Moira and Fiona joined her, their presence comforting.
“I do not like Ian Sinclair,” Ailis whispered. “The very sight of him unsettles me. Yet, I fear that if I dinnae give him a chance to court me, then I will let Father down.”
“Never mind him,” Moira replied. “Lachlan McClain is the one who captures yer heart.”
“But he doesn’t court me,” Ailis argued. “He sends his guards to follow me yet remains distant. If he truly had feelings for me, he would have approached Father about courting me.” She shook her head. “He needs to show how he feels or I will find another.”
Fiona leaned forward. “Perhaps he has his reasons,” she suggested. “A woman can never ken what is happening in a man’s mind. Their thoughts are foreign to us.”
Eventually, they parted ways.
In the grand hall, Fiona’s soiree commenced. The torchlight cast dancing shadows as musicians played inviting melodies. Throughout the night, Ailis stole glances at Lachlan McClain. Each time their eyes met, a jolt surged through her.
Despite her outward grace, Ailis’s heart wrestled with her inner turmoil. She observed Lachlan joining the dance. She knew she could easily join him, but she wanted him to invite her. Why hadn’t he spoken to her father?
While goblets clinked and people whispered, their unspoken connection intensified. Yet duty overshadowed desire—a reminder of their sacrifices and political alliances that shaped their lives. The tension between longing and obligation added complexity to an already intricate dance.
Ailis adjusted the grand table’s centerpieces with meticulous care. She sought perfection for Fiona’s sake, but she was preoccupied by a more troubling presence.
“Ye seem to be waging a silent battle with those flowers, Ailis,” Lachlan McClain remarked, his approach stealthy. She didn’t need to glance at him to recognize his disarming smile.
“These blooms are proving quite unruly.” Ailis finally met his gaze with a playful spark in her green eyes. “Perhaps they require a firmer hand.”
Lachlan offered assistance, stepping closer with a mock frown. “Do ye want me to have a talk with them?”
“Only if ye swear not to charm them into further rebellion,” Ailis countered, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. She knew the power of his charm, and she was certain the man could charm the portraits of her ancestors from the walls.
Their laughter mingled, providing a fleeting escape from the evening’s expectations. For a moment, shared mirth secluded them from the world’s prying eyes.
*
Meanwhile, Fiona surveyedthe scene from across the great hall. Her face softened with sisterly concern. She observed as Ailis’s smile waned when Lachlan’s attention diverted and how she subtly guarded her heart.
If only love were as simple as wielding a sword or commanding a battalion, Fiona thought. Then she could guide her sister to safe haven.
It would be good if they had a mother to seek counsel from regarding matters of the heart. Alas, they had one grandmother, and she was Fiona’s alone. Ailis had lost her own grandmother just the previous year.
Perhaps she could offer to share her grandmother with Ailis. She laughed at the idea. Ailis knew her grandmother as well as she herself did.
*
Ailis sought refugein a quiet corner. Lachlan appeared beside her.
“Escaping the revelry?” His tone was light, but his eyes held unspoken words.
“Seeking peace,” she replied.
“Peace can be elusive.” He leaned against the wall. “I find it hides in plain sight.”
“I find it is hiding from me tonight.”
“It’s like a lullaby that quiets the world,” he whispered.
“Then why must it hide from me?” she asked. “I could use the quiet!”
“But sometimes words are needed, as silence can be too wide for words to fill.”
