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In spite of his better judgement and his instincts about Ailsa, Hugh’s cruel words insinuated themselves into Duncan’s heart. The fact that he utterly despised Hamish as a weak, simpering fool served to fan the flames of anger licking at Duncan’s mind.
Trust had never come easily and the feelings of love he had for Ailsa now intensified his jealousy. That she may harbour feelings for another man was like a punch to the guts. He took the idea and rolled it over and over in his mind until it took on a life of its own and grew to a certainty. Ailsa and Hamish had been friends since childhood and Hamish was a handsome man and would one day be a powerful man if he succeeded his father to become laird. He was a more than fit consort for Ailsa and he had often seen them talking warmly to each other.
Did she love Hamish? Had she loved him all along and had he been the means of crushing that love by forcing her into marriage? He had begun to think that Ailsa was his now but he realised that she was thus far bound to him mainly by force, not affection. So fighting to deserve her love was pointless if she had truly given her heart to another.
And even if Ailsa did not have feelings for Hamish, a fact he struggled to believe despite his uncle’s argument, there was something greater than this which he could never conquer. Her loyalty to her people and family ran deep and he could never get past that no matter how hard he tried. She would put Clan MacLeod first, before herself, before him and she had not told him she loved him, scant difference it would have made in the mood he was in now.
‘Duncan.’ His uncle’s voice snapped him out of the tangle of his thoughts. ‘Go and ask her and watch your wife’s face when she gives her answer.’
Chapter Eighteen
The winding staircase was steep and by the time she reached the top and emerged onto Dunslair’s battlements, Ailsa was exhausted. It was crisp and clean up there and as she sucked the cold dawn air greedily into her lungs she marvelled at the jagged peaks of distant cairns against the clear horizon, like the teeth of a giant dog. Since that wonderful night with Duncan a strange lightness had been growing inside her chest, as if her heart were a bird, beating its soft wings and taking flight. The world seemed a kinder, warmer place somehow.
A shouting below and the bustle of men entering the castle caught her eye. They were Duncan’s men, bloody and wounded. There must have been a fight but where was he? Ailsa rushed below, almost tripping down the stairs. Frantically scanning the yard she saw him, talking in earnest to one of his men and she wanted to wrap her arms around him and sink her head against his broad back and squeeze him tight. But then a fragment of conversation stopped her in her tracks.
‘Did you pursue them into Sinclair lands?’
‘Aye, but a mist fell and they slipped away under its cover. ’T’was but a few strays we didn’t manage to round up.’
‘Dangerous men, you fool. We needed to cut the head off the beast or it will grow again. What of Alex Sinclair?
‘Dead Laird, of his wounds and Robert MacLeod is well away by now.’
‘Robert?’ gasped Ailsa.
Duncan whirled around. No smile, no embrace. ‘Come with me,’ was all he said, dragging her by the arm from the courtyard into the depths of the castle. ‘How much did you hear?’ he said angrily.
‘Enough. Who have those men been fighting and what has it to do with my brother?’
‘Do not concern yourself.’ His eyes were guarded.
‘Duncan, tell me please.’
He sighed heavily. ‘I had hoped to explain this more gently but here it is. The Sinclairs planned to murder me on the way back to Cailleach. We have informants in their camp and so were alerted to their intentions some time ago. We turned the ambush onto them. It was brutal and bloody but it had to be done. This war will rage on until the Sinclairs’ ambitions are thwarted.’
He was talking of death and battle in that cold, detached way of his, every inch the soldier.
‘Had they been successful in their plans to kill me they would have sent a large force to Cailleach to reclaim it. Your brother was to lead that force and he was at the head of the ambush that waited for me on the road.’
‘Robert!’
‘Yes, still in league with the Sinclairs but being the coward he is he has fled south. No doubt he is still running – all the way to England or beyond I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘Why would he still be loyal to them?’
‘Because he is a fool and always has been. As your kin, you cannot see him for what he really is. Regaining his position is all he cares about, no matter the cost in lives. He’s gone, you’ll not see him again.’
‘But he is my brother Duncan.’
‘Aye he is, but if he ever comes back here I will kill him,’ he snarled.
Ailsa took a step back from him and clutched her arms about herself for comfort. Why was he so angry with her? She was not her brother. She was not to blame. ‘My people Duncan, what of them?’
‘They stayed out of it, a wise choice as I will brook no rebellion on my lands. A handful supported the Sinclairs but in most cases, I have earned their loyalty. They prefer to follow strength, not weakness.’
‘You hate Robert don’t you?’
Duncan’s voice was getting colder and colder. ‘What do you think would have become of you if they’d killed me? You’d be free to marry again so Robert would have forced you into Alex Sinclair’s bed without a qualm. That was the plan; to sell his own sister into a lifetime of misery at the hands of a brutal man just to further his ambitions. You are many things Ailsa but never naive I think. So aye, I do hate your brother, for not protecting you as he should have and for abandoning you so completely.’
