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Yet, Aindreas couldn’t ignore the twisting in his stomach, the pain piercing through his heart as he stared down at Blair. He knew he should leave her, make space between them, but he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to move. For once in his life, he wanted to stay exactly where he was, next to this woman, next to Blair.
But he couldn’t.
He knew there was no way they could possibly be together. It was only a matter of time before their affections for each other were forced to an end. Better now than later. It would save them both the heartbreak.
At least that’s what he told himself. It was logical, yet his mind couldn’t fathom logic. Not when Blair was staring up at him, her head tilted in confusion, her body pressed against his. He had a choice to make, and he needed to make the right one.
With one sharp inhale, he slid one foot back, followed by another. This was the right choice, he told himself. This was best for both of them.
“Laird Cambel and his daughter, Sorcha, have both been provided with rooms near yer wing of the castle,” Marcus continued.
Blair’s expression fell at the mention of Sorcha’s name. Her gaze glimmered with unshed tears, cracking his heart into pieces as he stared down at the lass he had come to care for.
“Sorcha?” she breathed. Her whole body seemed to quiver before him.
“Their men are housed in our barracks,” Marcus prattled on, making Aindreas’s hands clench into fists. A part of him wished the soldier would stop. He was only making matters worse, but he was also doing his duty. Aindreas had told the guard he had wanted to know the moment the Cambels arrived. It was his fault, not Marcus’s.
Somehow, Blair knew exactly why Sorcha was at Castle Lachlan. Aindreas didn’t know how, but he suspected she had heard the servants’ gossip. They were always going on and on about the comings and goings of the castle. As if they didn’t have enough work already.
A tear slipped from her eyes, trailing down her cheek, and Aindreas was desperate to take her back into his arms and tell her the Cambel lass meant nothing to him.
It was the truth.
She was only a means to an end. Somehow, that only made it sound worse. He swallowed his words, feeling hopeless as he stared back at her, not knowing how to rectify the situation.
“Laird Cambel was asking for ye, but ye weren’t back yet, so I—“
Blair slipped from the wall, turning down towards the hall. More tears glimmered in the torch’s light. He watched her pick up her skirts, nearly stumbling over the hem for a moment. Aindreas reached for her, worried she would fall, but she righted herself quickly.
“Wait, Blair!” Aindreas shouted, reaching for her, wanting to kiss away her pain, yet she batted his hands away.
“Leave me alone, Aindreas,” she said angrily, turning away from him. Her whimpers echoed in the hall, only breaking his heart even more. His shoulders slumped as he watched her run up the staircase, not knowing what he should do.
“Is the Laird Cambel calling for me now?” Aindreas asked distantly, feeling as if someone had slammed a fist into his gut.
“N-nae,” Marcus stuttered, a hint of worry ebbing in his voice. “But he was not happy when ye were not here to greet him. He expected—“
“Give him my apologies,” said Aindreas calmly while stalking down the hall in the direction Blair ran in. “I will meet with him in the morn. Tell him I must,” Aindreas grimaced, not knowing what excuse would be best to give, “I must ask for forgiveness.”
Aindreas didn’t know if Laird Cambel would care for such an excuse, but it was the best he could offer without lying to the man. He trudged up the steps, not knowing what to tell Blair, hoping she would speak with him, see reason. Yet, the closer he came to her door, the more he felt like a young lad once again, about to get the belt.
He hovered outside her door, his hand raised, about to knock. Giggles echoed around him, and he jerked in their direction, scowling at the whispering maids carrying dirty platters and baskets of laundry. Their laughter halted at his dark glare, and the women dispersed, returning to their duties. He wondered if he should admonish the maids for their gossiping ways, worried they would say something foul about Blair. Blair didn’t need any more trouble.
With a heavy sigh, he decided to deal with the servants later, and he turned back to the door, hoping the maids of the castle wouldn’t be gossiping too much about him the next day. His frown deepened, realizing how it might look with him standing outside Blair’s door. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he rapped lightly at her door before straightening himself as he waited for the door to open.
He waited several minutes, which seemed like hours, as he stared at the door, glowering at it as if somehow it would open on its own.
He knocked again, harder this time, yet there was no response.
“Blair,” he said lowly, not wanting to rouse the servants.
“Go away.”
Aindreas grimaced. He pressed his forehead against the door, his hand thudding lightly against it. “I will not go away. Let me in so I may speak with ye.”
“Nae.”
“Please.” He hated the desperation in his tone. It sounded as if he was begging. Aindreas never begged. He didn’t need to. Yet, in this case, all he wanted was to see her face, tell her he didn’t mean to hurt her. “Let me speak with ye. I don’t want to end the day this way.”
He heard sniffing, and his heart splintered once more, knowing she was most likely crying. “I don’t want to see yer face.” Her voice cracked, and Aindreas banged his head lightly on the door, feeling foolish for ever wanting to be with her, knowing it was doomed from the very beginning.
“I don’t—“ Aindreas stopped himself. He gritted his teeth while turning around, pressing his back against the door while he stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he should tell her the truth or leave; tell her he couldn’t be with her due to his lack of parentage. Tell her that he was more like her, that his one desire until he had met her was to obtain the lairdship and protect his people; that it broke him, knowing Blair and he could never truly be together.
There was nothing he could possibly say to mend both their broken hearts. “I don’t care for her like I do ye,” he whispered while slipping to the floor, not knowing if she could hear him.
It didn’t matter. Nothing he said could matter in this situation.
They couldn’t be together. She was his father’s mistress, and he needed to marry Sorcha Cambel in order to seal the alliance and ensure his place as laird at Castle Lachlan.
“I’m so sorry, Blair.”
