but he’d bet his life that Frederick, meeting him and his men, wouldn’t now fight over something that was almost...personal.
All the conjecture led to one conclusion: to marry Ailsa was superfluous.
A half-step more and her gown brushed his legs again. This time there was no movement from her to indicate her impatience or frustration. Her gown was still, like she was before him. Confusion, yes, he saw it in her eyes and the barely discernible way her body tensed. But there was something else now...an awareness that perhaps matched his own.
Could it be she felt as he did? After all, she had agreed to marry him. ‘Perhaps you persuaded me, Ailsa, that the marriage is necessary to ensure no more bloodshed.’
‘You don’t believe that.’
He wanted privacy so he could gain some answers to this day. To understand or at least appreciate Frederick’s bargaining his only child. Nothing was clear, except this moment. Right now.
There were falsehoods here, but Ailsa and her need to heal was not one of them. She actually...cared. How that was relevant or whether it should be, he didn’t know. But something eased within him.
‘You know, we could marry and our clans could still war. There’s the probability it could make matters worse. What you want to prevent may come about by our joining.’
She exhaled roughly. ‘I told you that our animosity runs deep. I understand that. I also know the land is already yours by a king’s decree. Marrying me could solve nothing. And yet... I know that the way matters are between our clans is of no benefit either.
‘I lost...’ She canted her head and raised her hand. For one infinitesimal moment, he thought she’d lay it on his chest, right on his heart that suddenly beat uncontrollably.
Then the moment was gone. A stuttering of her fingers as if she realised what she was about to do before she lowered and clasped it before her. ‘All I want is the possibility of something different.’
A possibility. Her words were another punch to his battered body. Everything here was a possibility. For her the lives saved. For him...power. Control. The chance for more for his clan and hers, for a family of his own, children. He’d have a wife who cared for others with a fierceness he didn’t realise he’d wanted until he met her.
Impossible, these possibilities. All the more so for the other pressing reason he shouldn’t marry her. They believed him to be the Chief’s son and if it ever came to light that he wasn’t, what then?
Yet, a possibility for a future he didn’t dare dream of... Any warrior, any man, would lie and steal for that dream. Maybe he didn’t have to go that far. In truth, he was at least named a Lochmore. His mother might have lain with another, but it must have been done in great secret given the truth had never been revealed in all these years. As a result, their marriage would still be a Lochmore marrying a McCrieff and maybe that was enough.
Unless the Tanist discovered the truth one day and took it as an insult. So many possible possibilities. But once something was done, it couldn’t be undone. He was proof of that. Marriage and their children were permanent despite his fears of his past.
Thuds and roars from behind the door. They both froze, until goblets thumped on heavy oak tables and laughter rang out.
An offer of marriage.
Marriage. He returned his gaze to Ailsa, who gazed back unwaveringly at him. He admired her again. More so because he’d refused her and she’d replied with reason and pride.
Such fire within her veins and it called to his own. But it was a reminder as well. No matter his dreams or hopes, there was no talk of a happy marriage or children from her. She talked of preventing bloodshed, not peace. She cared, but she didn’t say she cared for him. This wasn’t personal for her and it shouldn’t be for him.
And yet, if this was a trap, they had made the prize too dear not to reach for it. All he needed to do was agree and the possibility of more would be his. But the possibilities of a better future wasn’t what pummelled through his chest and coursed hotly through his veins because his body didn’t concern itself with property or power. His body believed Ailsa was the prize. Thus, she was his right not as a ruler, but as a man.
He’d take her.
‘Say my name, Ailsa. Say it and that possibility you want will be so.’
She straightened, seemingly to brace herself. ‘Rory.’
Victory and far sweeter than he had envisioned for this day. Two strides to the door, he flung it open to see Frederick on the other side with his sword out. At Rory’s glance, Frederick sheathed it.
A moment of hesitation and a truth rang out. Frederick was guarding the door. But his expression showed something else. Gone was father and warrior, now he carried only the expression of a politician.
A wife who didn’t care for him. A father-in-law that had an agenda he knew nothing about. Still, the possibility of more... ‘I, as representative of Clan Lochmore, as son of Chief Lochmore, agree to this offer.’
Frederick’s eyes switched to his daughter and held. Whatever he saw there, it was enough for him to say, ‘As my daughter is witness, it is made in good faith.’
‘That won’t be good enough,’ Rory said.
‘Ah, yes, this calls for a formal announcement.’
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