by Tessa Murran
He crept into the chamber and looked down on Ailsa sleeping, fingers tangled in her hair spread out on the pillow like a coppery waterfall, so peaceful, so innocent. He dearly wanted to set aside his anger and climb in next to her, to hold her in the darkness and forget the bloody fight he had just survived, to let its horrors recede. He wanted to beg forgiveness for his harsh words. He wanted to believe that she could feel something genuine for him.
But who knew what dark plots and resentments swirled in that pretty little head. It would be weak to be blinded by her charms and what she did to him when they were abed, so instead, he allowed his uncle’s accusations to corrode his trust in her. The nightmares would come now and there was nothing to be done about it. He deserved it for he was a monster who could give love but who was not worthy of receiving it. The rest of the night was spent prowling the dark corners of Dunslair in the hopes of finding some peace but it did not come.
Chapter Nineteen
The next day they set off for Cailleach. Duncan rode at the head of his men, looking back in her direction frequently and Ailsa dearly wished to make amends, but the look on his face when their eyes met was clearly a warning not to try. She should confront him, demand that he listen to her but she was so cast down she could not muster the courage or the words to ask forgiveness. So instead, she held her tongue and the ride seemed to go on forever, dragging out her misery to the point where every bone and muscle seemed to be screaming. Surely his affection for her would drive out the anger? But no words passed between them on the wretched journey home and after a day and a night, it was a blessed relief to see the mellow stone walls of Cailleach.
Inside the castle, at last, Duncan came over to her and helped her dismount. ‘Are you unwell?’ he said in the flat voice of a stranger.
‘No I am tired that is all.’ Ailsa could barely find the strength to speak to him, battling awful nausea and misery.
‘Go to your room and get some rest.’
She tried to catch his eye, to look for some sign of his anger softening towards her but Rory rushed out to greet him and then he was gone. Later that day Ailsa heard that the Laird had left the castle with no word as to when he would return.
Duncan sharpened his sword in a brooding silence. Rory dared not interrupt his thoughts, which if the thunderous look on his face was anything to go by, were very dark indeed.
‘You should mend fences with Ailsa, go to her and get to the truth of it.’
‘I cannot and anyway she will not want to talk to me, she has her secrets to keep you see.’ He continued working on his sword, scrape, scrape, scrape as the stone scoured the steel to a lethal edge.
‘That savours heavily of bitterness my friend.’
Duncan glowered at Rory who rose to Ailsa’s defence. ‘She does not deserve such scorn, Duncan.’
‘You know nothing of us Rory, or of her. She has played me false.’
‘You do not know that. Are you really going to give credence to your uncle’s allegations? I know Ailsa…’
‘You do not, nor do I, no matter that I have lain with her these past months, cherished and protected her, claimed her as my own. Ailsa has led me by the nose like a willing bull all this time and broken my trust. We have already had this out and I will discuss it no more Rory.’
‘Well I will discuss it, damn it, and I will be permitted to speak in the lady’s defence. I heard from the servants hereabouts that when the castle was lost Ailsa had plenty of time to flee but refused to abandon Cailleach, said her dear departed father would turn in his grave at such cowardice. So she stayed and faced you, not an easy task. If McDougall was her lover why did she not run to him for protection? If she had any love for that scoundrel don’t you think she would have thrown all away to be with him? Sounds to me like the fool stole a kiss and for that, he deserves a good thrashing but Ailsa love Hamish, plot with Hamish? I cannot believe it.’
‘Maybe she is calculating enough to try to have it all – her lands and her lover.’
‘Oh so now she’s duped you into marrying her to retain her lands. You are throwing away happiness with both hands man. Aye, she has some fondness for McDougall but he is a remnant of an old life and that is all. If you don’t relent my friend then you will regret it for I know in my bones that Ailsa is not the betraying kind.’
‘Aye but the problem is I do not know it, Rory.’
‘Then you are a jealous fool, Duncan. Your uncle may offer up his poison but you do not have to swallow it. He has always had a dim view of women as you well know.’
‘Trust is not something you give away lightly because of a pretty face Rory.’
‘Nor is it something you withhold in order to nurse past grievances. If you can’t trust her then that is your weakness to conquer, not hers. Do you want to be Laird of the MacLeods? Rory asked, in exasperation at Duncan’s stubbornness.
‘What are you saying fool?’
‘If you want to be Laird of Clan MacLeod you must start by trusting its most important member. Ailsa is the key to your success here. We are beset by enemies trying to undermine your rule; they want this union to fail and if you believe she has played you false then it will. Trust in yourself and what you know in your gut to be true.’
‘I no longer know what is true’ raged Duncan, flinging his sword down in frustration.
‘Damn your pride. The longer you leave it the more this distance between you will grow. You can snap and snarl at her all you like but you were lost the moment you met Ailsa and no matter what she’s done you can’t fight that. I know it and you know it.’
Duncan sat for a moment trying to control his temper. He did not want to be pressed on the subject of Ailsa. He wanted some peace from the confusion and anger tearing him in two. One part of him wanted to go to Ailsa and pull her into his arms and the other never wanted to see her again. He turned the conversation to more practical matters.
‘A messenger came from the Sinclairs. They want to make peace and so I go tomorrow to meet them. Will you come with me even though I am a fool?
‘Of course, I will and what about Ailsa?’
‘In my mind, I can find a way forward with her but in my heart, I can’t, no matter how hard I try. That is all there is to it Rory.’
Chapter Twenty
It took two weeks for Duncan to return to Cailleach. His negotiations with the Sinclairs had gone well. The death of their murderous leader had knocked all the fight out of them and they had been eager to agree to his terms and cease hostilities. But Duncan had not headed for home immediately, reluctant to face Ailsa and the dilemma that stood between them.
He found her in the stables. She was at Fingal’s stall, leaning against his neck, her chestnut hair matching the rich brown of his coat. For a long time, Duncan did not make his presence known because he just wanted to look at her. She was wearing a dress of soft dove grey embroidered with little red roses which made her look doll-like and fragile, though he knew her to be anything but that. As her hand gently stroked the horse, up and down, up and down, his mind went back to the last time they had been there together and delighted in each other’s bodies, when he had for a brief, wonderful moment felt at one with her.
But now, even as his heart swelled with love for her, that feeling was corroded by his dark thoughts. He could not fight how he felt but it tortured him to acknowledge it. He had been blinded by desire but he would not make that mistake again. Instead, he took his anger and bitterness and using it as a shield against her sweetness he called to her.
‘Ailsa.’
She swirled around in alarm, her green eyes wide.
‘Duncan, you’re back.’ She smiled hesitantly.
‘So it would seem.’ His voice sounded cold even to him and her smile faded. She came towards him slowly, clutching her arms around herself.
‘You look very well,’ he said. She looked more than well, she looked unutterably lovely. There was a glow to her skin like the sheen on a butterfly’s wings, a pink bloom to her cheeks which deepened as
he stared at her. Uncharitably, he wondered if she could conjure such beauty at will to trap him into relenting and forgiving her.
‘I so am glad you have come back,’ she said in a small voice. ‘Duncan, we must talk about what happened at Dunslair between Hamish and me,’ she said.
‘No we must not,’ he snarled. ‘What we must do is never speak his name again. We will go on and in time these wounds will heal.
‘They will not heal if you will not trust me. Please, Duncan, I have been in torment these last days without you.’
‘Stop Ailsa. I came to see that you are well, I have satisfied myself that you are and now I want no further discussion on that worm McDougall.’
‘But I did not betray you, I swear.’
‘I want to believe you Ailsa, really I do but there is more than that fool separating us. You never cared for me and you never will. You are loyal to your clan I see that now. I do not condemn you for it, I admire it in a way but it means I can never trust you nor you me.’
‘Then we are a sorry pair, Duncan.’
‘Aye we are, but that’s the truth of it,’ he said sadly. ‘I will keep my vow and will protect and care for you as I have always tried to do. I will even own that I love you, though it pains me to say it, but I won’t be your fool Ailsa. We will make the best of things as do many couples and we will do our duty and make this union successful. That way we might find some kind of affection for each other.’
‘Some kind of affection! How can you speak so? You either love me or you don’t. You cannot give half your heart, Duncan.’
‘It’s all I have to give. Do you think I have no honour? Do you think I have no pride, to follow you around like an obedient dog while you blow hot and cold with me, while you push me away and seek solace with another?’
‘If you think I would behave so coldly then you do not know me at all,’ she said quietly.
‘Aye, perhaps you are right, I do not know you.’
‘The night before you left me at Dunslair? The things you said, the way we were together? Did all of that mean nothing?’
‘It meant everything, to me at least, but it was a fantasy and it could not last. There is and always has been too much separating us.’
‘There is only your pride separating us,’ she said desperately.
‘Enough Ailsa. Let’s end this sham.’ Her face would have shown less anguish if he had struck her. ‘I am going hunting with Rory and I will leave you in peace for a few days. We can talk again when I return, but about the future, not the past.’
‘Please don’t go away from me like this Duncan.’
‘I have to.’
Ailsa could only stand helplessly and watch him walk away. She felt as though her world was turning on this one moment. ‘Come back to me…please come back to me,’ she whispered, a sob rising in her throat. But he did not.
She grabbed the stall as a wave of dizziness took hold of her. She needed him more than ever. She wanted so much to feel his strong arms around her. It had finally dawned on her this last week why she had been feeling so wretched. She thought it had been her misery and loneliness as he had rejected her but it was not. Even as Duncan’s love slipped away from her another part of him was growing inside her.
If she had never had soft feelings for him, if she had never started to fall in love with him she could have faced a marriage of convenience. But she had loved him and as he had withdrawn his affection she felt as a prisoner who is let out into the sunlight and warmed by it, only to be plunged cruelly back into a dank dungeon of despair. She had to do something, anything to end this misery.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ailsa watched Duncan ride away from Cailleach. There had been no goodbyes and perhaps that was for the best. She put on her warmest clothes and sat quietly for a moment in her chamber hardening her resolve. Taking a long look around she said goodbye to her old life and the foolish hopes nurtured there. The pain of leaving behind her childhood home was awful but nothing compared to the pain of staying with a man who despised her as a traitor.
Duncan would still treat her kindly in his way but there was a gulf opening up between them and any love he had shown her now felt unreal, like a fantasy she had conjured up to bear her situation. Whatever Duncan might have felt for her, it was long gone now. Hamish’s casual attempt at seduction, carelessly done as was his nature, had cost her dear.
When their bairn came Duncan would love and care for it, Ailsa was absolutely certain of that. As for her, well, he may throw kindness and tolerance her way but never again would he give her that passionate, elemental love that had made her feel at one with him. They would have a pale imitation of the life she had begun to imagine for them.
Tears had streamed down her face at saying her farewells to her mother but there had been no recognition in those dull eyes and when Ailsa had taken Hesther’s hand it had hung soft and limp in hers. Once clear of Duncan’s grasp she would instruct Morag to send for her mother. Duncan would treat Hesther kindly and let her go to her daughter as he was not the kind of man who would take his anger out on a helpless, unhinged, old woman. But Ailsa knew he would never let her go once he knew about the child growing in her belly. So she had to do this awful thing, take this one chance now, while she still had the strength to go through with it. Her mind was made up. She would leave him.
As many of the men were out on the hunt she slipped away on Fingal unnoticed. She did not take the fine horse he had given her; she would only take that which was hers. Heading south to Strathairn lands, she estimated it would take two days ride to get to the safety of Morag. From there, her sister could help her get to the lowlands and beyond Duncan’s reach. Ailsa fervently hoped that she had given herself enough time to slip away before her husband caught up with her.
Riding for some hours along quiet, deserted pathways so as to be unseen by other travellers, eventually, she reached the edge of her knowledge. Morag’s husband William had described his journey to her once as she had pressed him to tell her about the lands outside MacLeod territory and about his home. But that recollection was hazy and she regarded with dismay the rock-strewn, wet moorland fanning out before her to two distant mountain peaks, standing like jagged teeth against the pale sky. She would have to go beyond them, find pockets of shelter in the patches of trees as the weather had begun to turn. A spiteful rain was starting to turn to sleet and pick at her face, like a thousand cold little nails being driven in. She must keep going to stay warm.
Ailsa rode for what seemed like hours until the wind got too fierce forcing her to drive Fingal into a dense stand of trees deep into the valley. Her hands and face were aching with cold and it was darker now as black clouds swept in over the mountains and the horizon suddenly brightened with a flash of lightning. Fingal pranced nervously and Ailsa tried to steady him but to no avail. He had always been skittish of storms and now being so far from home in unfamiliar territory he was frightened. As she pulled hard on the reins a colossal clap of thunder sounded right overhead and he reared up. Ailsa clawed at the saddle desperately as she slid off and hit the ground hard. Her hand went to her stomach fearful for the baby and looking up she saw Fingal running blindly off into the wind, leaving her unhurt but shaken on the wet ground. Her carefully stored provisions and furs had gone with him and she could not be more wretched, cold and alone in a godless place. Surviving the night depended on finding some shelter.
Some exhausting hours later the tears started to come. As she walked endlessly on and on, her mind turned to Duncan. Her plan and her resolve were starting to unravel. How could she have left him when he had in his way been kind to her, made her feel safe and, for one brief perfect moment, loved beyond anything? How could she take his child from him? There could never be another man who would match him and no matter how much distance she put between them she realised she could never wash him out of her mind and her heart. His child, God willing, when it was born, would be a replica of them both, a constant reminder of what they shared
together and lost. She would always suffer this yearning for him to the end of days.
It was with her mind full of Duncan that she first heard it, high and keening, carried on the wind, chilling her to the bone. Ailsa stopped dead, heart pounding, holding her breath, as another answering sound came eerily from the opposite direction. She strained her ears and desperately hoped she was mistaken, but it came again, seemingly closer now that she was so acutely aware of it, the cry of a wolf, haunting and terrifying. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck, a rumble of thunder drowned out everything and then quiet. She stumbled on, rushing, nerves screaming. The howling came again, eerie, sickening. She was at the edge of the trees now and ran blindly out into the storm. Looking wildly around, she saw something solid and grey in the distance, a bothan once, but now a ruin of tumbledown stone and rotted wood. If she could just reach it…
Ailsa ran for her life, stumbling over slippery rocks, pushing through icy streams, hampered by her skirts which snagged on the thick undergrowth and which were heavy with absorbed rain. It was not too far now, just where the ground rose up, standing like a bleak sentinel above the moorland. Behind her, the howls had become a chorus as the wolves pulled together for the hunt. She risked a glance back and saw them, shadowy phantoms emerging from the trees, diverging from each other and racing to overtake her at an alarming speed. The light was dying in the sky as the storm consumed it and a terrible death was closing in on her. She would not make it, they were too fast. Her lungs were screaming for air and she ran blindly, stumbling over.
A rattling growl, rising above the noise of the storm, had her spinning around. A grey wolf crouched within striking distance, its pale fangs vivid in the fading light, ears flat and eyes a cold merciless yellow. It slunk toward her low on the ground, shoulders hunched and muscles taut ready to attack. Ailsa tried to swallow but her throat tightened. She clutched around for a stick, a rock, anything with which to fight. There was a terrible pounding noise then it pounced.