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“At dawn.” Not a trace of guilt in the information. The boy was becoming a man who knew what he was doing.
Eyes on the outside, Taran hurtled there.
“She does not want to stay here.” Sam reasoned. “You cannot force her.”
A swivel back to the boy, his eyes spitting fire. “You do not understand.” His lips pressed together.
“I do.” Two pairs of green eyes connected bluntly. “You compromised her.” The father blanched. “But she does not seem to care.”
How did a compromised woman not give due importance to it? Damn her!
“But I do!” He nearly shouted.
“Too much, I would say.” The younger of them ventured.
He lunged out of the hothouse as if chased by a horde of demons. The McDougal heir did not have the faintest idea of what ‘too much’ meant.
But the Laird did.
Too bluidy much!
Orders barked for his horse and travel preparations, he rushed to his chamber to assemble a saddle-bag for the trip.
~.~.~
Relief flooded Aileen when the carriage parked at the McKendrick’s manor entrance. In haste, she alit, eager to meet the bears of her brothers.
Past the entrance hall, she found them and their father in the drawing room, whisky in hand. Her eldest brother, Drostan, stood by the hearth, elbow on the mantel. Her second eldest one, Fingal, sat on an armchair in front of the fire. The third, Lachlan, leant on the window. Her father, Wallace, sat on a settee. The four of them, in an utterly lively chat, turned when the door opened.
She was not sure—or if—they heard anything about her time at the McDougal’s, so she waited to gauge what they knew.
“Little sister!” Fingal greeted.
“How is Aunt Bridget faring?” This from Lachlan.
“Very well, I will say.” She blurted.
Drostan merely looked at her. He was a man of few words and a lot of observation. He had become even more introspect after his wife Freya disappeared mysteriously five years ago. Since no one was sure if she was alive, he had no possibility of considering marriage again.
“Did you have a nice trip?” Her father imparted.
“Yes, father.” Her attempt at a smile did not succeed that much. “It was rather… eye opening.”
In dire need of solitude, she cut the conversation short. “If you will excuse me.” She took off her hat. “I am weary from the trip. We will talk in the morning.”
“As you wish, sister.” Drostan deigned to talk.
~.~.~
After a refreshing bath, in a crisp nightgown, Aileen’s head rested on her pillow. Her mind wandered. There must be no questioning she had done the right thing coming back home. Had she taken much longer, her brothers might have suspected something wrong and gone in search of her. That would have been disastrous if the history of both clans was anything to go by here.
So why did she feel so… twisted inside her skin? Her cosy chamber did not seem restful at all. A hollow sensation drifted through her veins as if something might be missing. Or she missed something. Someone.
Blast the implacable giant!
Not even reasserting he had abducted her, to marry a young man who had been little more than a boy relieved it. He did not prove to be reasonable by any stretch of imagination.
No use. When she remembered him, his kisses, his thoughtfulness as he took her for the first time. And his fierceness as a clan leader, his protectiveness towards his son, everything vanished from her mind and the man remained. The man she gave herself to unrepentant, ineluctable. Insufficiently.
