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And he could never let her go.
Aindreas groaned while opening his eyes, shoving himself out of his chair. He stalked out of the study, slamming his door shut with too much force. If his father were still alive, what would he advise him to do? The old laird wanted him to marry Blair. It was his dying wish, but would he still think the same if he knew of the Cambel’s demands and the MacAlister’s plots?
Aindreas smirked. No, he wouldn’t have cared at all, given the last time Duncan MacBean was in the same room as Laird Cambel. The elderly laird hadn’t cared about his demands whatsoever and still insisted Aindreas married Blair.
He opened the door to his rooms, shutting it behind him. Pacing back and forth, he stroked his chin, wondering once more about his father’s reasoning for him marrying Blair. There had to be something. Other than her beauty and her charm, what else did she have to offer? She didn’t have any money, no family to provide an alliance. Of what he knew, she was a keen apprentice to Tavis, and that was all.
So what had his father been hiding?
Aindreas flinched at the knock on his door. His brows pinched together, wondering if it was Marcus coming with some much needed information on Blair. He grimaced as he stalked towards the door, hoping he wouldn’t find Laird Cambel on the other side, making more demands. As he reached for the door, he hoped deep down it was Blair. He could use her warmth, her strength.
When he threw open the door, his eyes widened as he found blue eyes staring up at him shrouded with fiery red hair. She peeked over her shoulder while clutching her black cloak to her before turning back to him.
“Are ye alone?” she whispered harshly, her blue eyes staring intently up at him.
Aindreas’s brows pinched together in confusion as he stared down at the woman before him. “Sorcha?” he breathed, not knowing what else to say.
“Are ye alone?” she asked again, her voice more insistent.
He was vaguely aware of his head bobbing up and down.
His frown deepened as Sorcha pushed him to the side and quickly closed the door, pressing her hands against the wood as if she was worried someone was following her.
“What are ye doing here?” he asked, keeping his voice low while he watched her turn away from the door.
Sorcha didn’t answer. Just as trusting as her father, Sorcha grabbed a torch hanging near the door and looked around the room, raising the flames to light the shadows lingering in the corners. Her hand grabbed the curtain, drawing the drapes to shield anyone from peering inside his quarters. She searched under the bed, possibly searching for anyone who could be spying, until finally, her swollen and red eyes landed on him.
“I beg ye, my laird, I need yer help.”
“My help?” Aindreas asked, his voice laced with surprise as he watched the lass wipe her eyes, glimmering with unshed tears. “Why do ye need my help for?”
Sorcha sniffed, her bottom lip trembling. She gazed up at him with sadness exuding from her gaze, and he wondered if her father had done something to cause such a reaction. “I do not want to marry ye,” she blurted out. “And I know ye do not want to marry me.”
Aindreas’s lips parted. The old him would have negated her words. He would have put on the charm and told her he thought her beautiful like an angel sent from the heavens. Yet, he couldn’t form the words. Indeed, she was beautiful, yet she was not Blair.
“I know everything about yer reputation. I know ye charm women, and I have nae interest in being charmed by ye.”
Aindreas frowned. “And why do ye tell me this? Is that why yer crying, because you believe me to be a rake?”
Sorcha sobbed, and more tears ran down her cheeks. “Nae, not at all, my laird. That is not why I cry.” She inhaled deeply, biting back another sob attempting to surface. “I’m in love with Laird MacAlister.”
Aindreas’s eyes widened. He took a step back from the lass as if she was a snake that had bitten him. “What?” he breathed, not believing his ears.
Sorcha nodded. “I love him,” she said, her voice more commanding. “He has stolen my heart.” She smiled sadly, her lips trembling. “Father discovered our affections and forbade me from ever seeing him again. Even if my love asked for my hand, he wouldn’t permit us to marry.”
“But why?” asked Aindreas. “Wouldn’t a union between the MacAlisters and the Cambels be a just and meaningful alliance?”
Sorcha scoffed. “Aye, just and meaningful, but Father is a traditionalist and is more stubborn than the fattest ox. He doesn’t see the good between our union, nor does he care for our love.” She shook her head, biting her lip as another sob threatened to burst. “But that is not all.” She rushed forward, taking Aindreas’s hand and squeezing it tight. “My love discovered yer intent to marry me. That is why the MacAlisters have been attacking yer clan.”
Aindreas felt his insides twist as he stared into her glimmering, terror-filled eyes.
“He plans to kill ye, believing it is the only way to save me and prevent a loveless marriage filled with strife and remorse.”
Her hand slipped from his, and Aindreas slowly turned around, rubbing his chin as he let the words wash over him. Sorcha was indeed the only one who could help him, yet it wasn’t how he thought it would be. He couldn’t marry her to end the war with the MacAlisters.
“And so ye want me to bring ye to him?” he asked, his back still facing her.
Glancing over his shoulder, he watched her nod. “Aye, that is what I need of ye,” she whispered.
Aindreas felt his lips twitch into a smile. He chuckled, ignoring her strained expression as he slowly paced back and forth. It had been right underneath his nose. He didn’t need to marry Sorcha. He didn’t need to create an alliance with the Cambels in order to stop the MacAlisters.
All he needed to do was unite young love.
It didn’t solve all his problems. He still needed to marry a lady in order to obtain the lairdship, but it was a start.
He rushed towards Sorcha and placed his hands on either side of her face, kissing both of her cheeks. “Sorcha, yer the answer to my prayers,” he said brightly before striding briskly towards the door.
“So, ye will help me?” Sorcha asked meekly.
Aindreas turned around, his hand on the door while he smiled brightly at her. “Aye, I will help ye.”
