Page 25 of Twelfth Knight’s Bride

“And we’ve raided on them, killing theirs,” James rumbled. “But Aileana raided on no one.” A lie, but he wouldn’t lump desperate snatches for food together with larger transgressions like attacking castles for reasons of power. “She pays a price now for decades of troubles. I bid ye, and everyone, treat her kindly.”

He certainly wouldn’t allow his man, cousin or not, to jest at Aileana’s expense.

“Apologies, cousin. I mean no disrespect,” Angus said after clearing his throat. “We’ve clearly misjudged yer feelings for the lass. Tell me, will ye plan a kirk wedding for her?”

He shook his head. Aileana might have rejected his offer to be taken home right away—a pleasant surprise that made him wonder at a deeper motivation on her part. But she’d given him no indication that she wished their union to become permanent, either.

“She does nay want one.”

“What lady wishes naught for a kirk wedding?” said one of his knights to another.

James twisted over his shoulder, wishing to quit their gossip.

“My lady!” he called.

His men and their wives fell silent, glancing over at Aileana, as if having forgotten she was riding with them. And as he suspected, many a frown captured their faces at mention of her. Be damned, but he needed his people to accept her. Aileana might be slowly warming to him, but it was only with their friendship did he hope to lay a foundation that could lead to permanence and convince her to stay.

Aileana looked up at him, surprised, as if unsure that he spoke to her. He gestured to her. “Ride aside me, wife!”

He steered his mount out of the procession and heard her palfrey’s hooves escalate to a trot. She pulled up beside him, relieving him from further interrogations, for Angus took the cue.

“I’ll check our flanks, laird, and ensure no one straggles.”

James nodded to him, thankful for his departure, and blessedly his people fell back into song. He glanced at Aileana’s profile, her bare neck and collarbones delightfully enticing as they peeked through the clasp of her cloak; her posture, straight and cultivated like a winter queen atop her mount. The maids had done her appearance justice by selecting the beautiful gown and amber bobbles, which nearly matched her hair.

And yet he wanted her parrying. If he admitted it, he enjoyed crossing swords with her. What had his womenfolk done to silence her?

“Have the maids treated ye well?” he asked.

She nodded, offering a soft smile and gazing to the hills beyond, toward which they headed.

“Then why so silent? Has something happened?”

She frowned but shook her head. “Nay. I simply find myself pondering the state of things betwixt our clans.”

What did that cryptic reply mean? “Care to explain?”

Aileana sighed. “As I suspected, nay body much wants me here, for if looks could slay, I’d be dead, but having spoken to my maids, I suppose I can understand why. I used to think of the history betwixt our people in a one-sided fashion. I could only see the wrong ye’d done us. I believed nay the wrong my clan had done to yers.”

He quirked the corner of his mouth, deciding not to press the matter. Could it be that we are finding more common ground?

“Would it make any difference to ye now to ken that the mare ye ride is light of foot and won me a race in the Inverness games four seasons ago?” he diverted.

She glanced at him. “She is quite spry for her age. What does that have to do with clan rivalries?”

His semi-smile broadened, and he leaned down to her, lowering his voice as he wrapped his hands around his reins in preparation. “Absolutely nothing. I’m saying my horse could use a good jaunt, and since yer palfrey bears the record she does, how would ye like a wee competition? Up to the wood’s edge where it’s dense of trees and sparse of people?”

Her eyes brightened, and a smile of her own danced upon her lips as she looked ahead of them to get bearings on the mark. Just as he suspected. The lass, bold of tongue, was also competitive.

“I do believe I’m being challenged to a race by the enemy. More rivalry is what we need, then?”

“Only a gentle bird frightened of losing would refuse,” he taunted, sitting upright again and staring down his nose at her like a haughty prince.

“Then I suppose the only way to silence ye is to put ye in yer place.” She giggled.

A giggle. His eyes dipped to her lips.

“What’s the boon for winning?” she asked.