It was late before Gabel finally sought his own bed and left Ainslee in the care of Morag. She had only woken up once more, but her eyes had still been clear, and she had eaten some solid food. As Gabel settled himself in his bed, he knew he would be able to sleep soundly for the first time since she had been sent back to Kengarvey.
Gabel met Ainslee’s glare calmly. In the four days since her fever had broken, she had become more and more belligerent, fighting everyone’s commands even though they were in her own best interest, her good health all that concerned people. He decided that she needed to be told just how badly she was behaving and, if she had not thrown him from the room, he would then have a more serious talk with her. The temper and spirit she was showing told him that she could hear his proposal and reply to it honestly. He no longer feared that weakness or gratitude could force her to agree when she did not really wish to. She was showing very little of either at the moment.
“Do you doubt Ronald’s knowledge of the healing arts?” he asked her as he helped her settle herself against the pillows Morag had plumped up before she had fled the room.
“Nay, of course not,” Ainslee said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring down at her blanket-covered toes.
“Yet you question everything he says you must do to recover.”
“He kens how to heal people, but he can also be a fretful old woman.”
“Considering how ill-tempered you are, I really do not think he would want to keep you abed any longer than he needed to. You make life most unpleasant, and any sane man would wish to see an end to that.” He met her angry look with perfect calm and a hint of condemnation.
“I havena been quite so bad,” she muttered.
“You have been almost intolerable. ’Tis only the understanding of those who tend to you that keeps you from being left completely alone.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, and took her hand in his when she flushed and would not look at him again. “I understand how infuriating illness can be to one who is unaccustomed to being abed and unable to do much of anything. Did you think I had passed so many years as a knight without getting a scratch?”
Ainslee sighed, slumped back against her pillows, and gave him a crooked apologetic smile. “Nay. Have I outdone ye in ill humor and ingratitude?”
“I should like to say aye, but I suspect there are those here who would be quick to argue that.”
“I am sorry, and I shall apologize to the others when they dare to draw near me again.” She shook her head. “My wound doesna trouble me much and I feel hale enough, yet the fever robbed me of most of my strength. My mind and heart say that I am weel enough to get up and to do something, yet my body shakes and trembles from weakness and willna allow me to move. ’Tis maddening and, since I canna thrash myself, I take my temper out on others. I dinna try to excuse my poor manners, just to try and tell ye where they spring from.”
He brushed a kiss over her lips, laughing softly when she curled her arm around his neck and stole a deeper kiss from him. When he pulled away a little, forcing his passion aside, he shook his head as he grinned at her. “You are certainly not strong enough for that yet.”
“ ’Twould nicely pass the time. After all, if I must lie abed all the day—”
“Do not try to tempt me,” he admonished genially as he pulled away.
Ainslee sighed. “Ye need not keep me company if ye have work to do.”
“I have a great deal of work to do, but I have decided that you have recovered enough for one thing.”
“And what is that?” she pressed when he just looked at her, saying nothing and his expression unsettlingly somber.
“We must talk, and I have thought o’er this moment for days, weeks even, yet suddenly I found it hard to speak.”
“Now ye are truly making me uneasy.”
Ainslee tried not to let her fears show. Was he about to tell her that she would be returned to Kengarvey as soon as she was well enough to travel? He was her laird now. Perhaps he had even arranged a suitable marriage for her. She cursed herself for a fool for thinking that his bringing her back to Bellefleur meant anything more than a kind concern for her well-being. She had been injured and had even saved his life, so he had brought her to the one place where he had known she could get the best care. Although she had told herself that time and time again, she now realized that she had not really listened to herself.
“ ’Tis nothing so ominous.” He stared at her hand, idly running his thumb over her knuckles. “I have not treated you well, Ainslee.”
“What nonsense.” She pressed her lips together when he gave her a quelling glance.
“This will not go smoothly if you insist upon interrupting me.”
“I will be quiet.”
“Good. Now, I have treated you poorly. I bedded you, yet continued to search elsewhere for a wife. In that I insulted you, treating you like some whore. Although, I swear to you that I ne’er once thought of you in such a denigrating way.” He grimaced and shook his head. “I am doing this poorly.”
“Then mayhaps ye should cease trying to explain so much, and just say what ye wish to.”
“Aye, although I did feel that I had a lot to atone for ere I asked you the question that appears to be stuck in my throat.”
She reached out to caress his cheek and smiled faintly. “I can think of nothing ye need to atone for, but, if it will make ye feel better, then I forgive ye for all those little wrongs ye have convinced yourself ye committed.”
“Thank you—I think.” He took both of her hands between his and looked at her. “What I wish to ask is—will you be my wife?”
Ainslee stared at him. She had heard the words, but doubted her own ears. There had been no preamble of love words, no talk of how he had decided he could not live without her, simply the blunt question. She could not even read what emotions he felt in his expression, which was one of tense waiting.
“Ye dinna need to wed me just because ye have taken my maidenhead,” she said carefully, afraid he was acting out of a sense of honor. “And ye certainly dinna need to do this because I took the arrow that was meant for you.”
“I do it for none of those reasons. I want you to be my wife. I would have asked you the moment you awoke from your fever, except that I was afraid you would say aye for all of the wrong reasons. I wanted your mind clear, your spirit back, and some of your strength back as well. Ainslee, I had some very strange ideas of what I needed in a wife, and I had clung to them for so long that I was unable to accept any change in my plans. It was not until I thought I had put you out of my reach that I realized I wanted you, that you would make me a very fine wife.”
“And what does your family think of this?”
“Everyone at Bellefleur is pleased, and most wonder why I took so long.” When she said nothing, he touched a kiss to her frowning mouth and asked, “If you do not wish me for a husband, you need but say nay.”
“I dinna want to say nay.” She grimaced. “I fear ye have taken me so by surprise that I canna think of what I wish to say. My only clear thought is that ye might be wedding me out of a sense of honor, and that is an arrangement I would say nay to.”
“Nay, I am not wedding you out of any sense of honor.”
Before he could say anything else, a young page stumbled into the room and said, “There is a man demanding to see you, m’lord.” He flushed and backed toward the door. “Oh, I should have knocked and begged entrance,” he mumbled.
“Aye, you should have. Just recall your manners next time. Who demands to speak to me?” Gabel asked when the boy shifted from one foot to the other and chewed on his bottom lip.
“A Sir Donald Livingstone. He is most persistent.”
“I know,” Gabel muttered, then cursed. “Tell him I will be down in but a moment.” As soon as the little page hurried away, Gabel stood and looked down at Ainslee. “I will take heart in the fact that you have not refused me. While I speak to Livingstone, mayhaps you can consider my offer and we can
speak on it again.” He frowned. “I had not expected the man so soon. He had said a fortnight.”
“If he seeks some gain, then ’tis my sister who has sent him early. She probably drove him from his keep with her demands.”
He brushed a kiss over her lips and started toward the door. “Well, he shall soon discover that his journey is for nothing. He will get neither you nor Kengarvey.”
Before Ainslee could ask what he meant, he was gone. Soon after she had recovered, Gabel had told her of the fate of Kengarvey, and she had assured him that she felt no anger toward him. After the crimes her father had committed, only a fool would think that the lands would stay with the family. All she cared about was that many of her people and all four of her brothers had survived, although it had taken some time to convince Gabel of that. She was not surprised that Elspeth would try to lay claim to the lands. What troubled her was Gabel’s implication that Livingstone wanted her as well.
“Curse the mon,” she grumbled as she carefully sat up, going cautiously so that she did not bring on the dizziness that still affected her from time to time. “He tells me to stay abed and rest, then leaves me with words that will prey upon my mind.”
As she carefully slid out of bed and reached for a gown, she decided she could not wait. Now that she considered it, there was only one reason for her sister to want her, and that was to marry her off for gain. The thought of such a thing sent chills down her spine. Gabel had not spoken of love or even uttered any sweet words when he had asked for her hand. She had hesitated because of that, and now regretted it. If she had left Gabel with the idea that she might not accept his proposal, he could easily consider some match that Livingstone put forward.
It took her far longer than she liked to slip on her gown, and she knew she looked a tousled mess, but she began to feel a strong sense of urgency. As far as she knew, Gabel had no reason to refuse her kinsman’s proposal of a match, and she was desperate to give him one. Ainslee knew that marriage to Gabet—if he did not return the love she felt for him in full—could prove painful at times, but it was far preferable to anything else she could think of. It was certainly far preferable to being sold to some man of her sister’s choosing. She would tell Gabel she accepted his proposal, even if she had to crawl to the great hall to do it. All the problems she could foresee could be sorted out later.
Gabel sipped at his wine and studied the man who cautiously sat down next to him. It was evident that Livingstone did not really want to be at Bellefleur, did not wish to chance that he would anger Gabel, but did not have the stomach to refuse his wife. There was probably some of the man’s own greed prompting his actions, but Gabel felt more at ease. He had no intention of giving Livingstone Ainslee or Kengarvey, and now he could see that Ronald was right, that he could refuse the man everything he asked for and not risk more battles.
“You said you would come in a fortnight’s time,” he murmured. “I had not realized that a fortnight had come and gone already.”
“I beg your gracious pardon for my inability to wait, but I began to fear that the weather would soon worsen, and thus keep us from settling these matters until spring,” Livingstone said.
“I am not sure what matters you think we have to settle.”
“Why the matter of Kengarvey and of Ainslee, of course.”
“Kengarvey is mine.”
“Yours? Not all of the MacNairns were traitors to the king. Surely the land should go to those of the family who remained loyal.”
“The king felt I should hold the lands. You may go to him with your claims, if you so wish. I will not attempt to stop you. I am a king’s man and will follow his wishes in this matter. His wishes at this time are that I hold Kengarvey.”
“And who shall be its castelean? Ye canna rule this keep and that at the same time.”
“I have placed a good man there, and with the help of the MacNairns who survived, I believe I can bring Kengarvey back. Aye, and make it even better than Duggan MacNairn ever allowed it to be.”
Livingstone took a long drink as he visibly tried to control himself, then slowly asked, “And what of Ainslee MacNairn? Has she recovered from her injuries?”
“She is slowly recovering.”
“When she is well, m’lord, my wife and I will take her into our care.”
“Nay, I think not.” Gabel smiled faintly when Livingstone gaped at him.
“The king didna give ye her as weel, did he?”
“Nay, but I see no reason to hand her over to you.”
“I am her kinsmon,” Livingstone said in a tight voice as he struggled to hold onto his temper.
“You have ne’er had an interest in her before, so why should you want her so badly now?”
“My wife and I have been fortunate enough to find her a husband. I believe I mentioned that back at Kengarvey. It was not easy, for she is already eighteen and has no dowry. Howbeit, we chanced upon a mon who badly wishes a wife, and is willing to make a settlement It would be a most advantageous arrangement.”
“Aye, for you.”
“And for Ainslee. She canna wish to become a spinster, doomed to be no more than a nursemaid to whatever children her brothers might spawn.”
“I do not believe she will suffer such a fate.”
“This is a good marriage I offer her.”
“Well, I believe I might have a better one—me.”
Livingstone gaped at him again, and set his goblet down with visibly unsteady hands. “Ye wish to wed her?”
“Aye. I have asked for her hand this very day.”
“And what was her reply?” asked Livingstone, watching Gabel closely when he hesitated to reply.
“Her reply was aye,” said Ainslee, entering the great hall in time to hear the exchange.
Gabel did not know whether to be overjoyed or furious when he turned to see Ainslee slowly walking to the head table. She was pale and looked badly tousled, as if she had just thrown her gown on over her nightrail and run out the door. Watching her every measured step, he glanced down at her feet, saw that she had no slippers on, and knew that that was exactly what she had done. What occupied his thoughts far more than her foolish, and possibly dangerous, walk to the great hall, was that she had just accepted his proposal.
As he helped her sit down on his right and silently handed her a linen square to mop the beads of sweat from her pale brow, he thought over what that acceptance had been prompted by. She had guessed Livingstone’s plans for her, and had come down to put a stop to them in the surest way she could. It was not the reason he wanted her to have for accepting his proposal, but he decided he would not argue. He might have doubts about how much of her mind and heart he could claim, but he knew they shared a fierce passion. It was a start.
Even as he kept a close watch on her, Gabel talked to Livingstone. The man tried to argue, but he had to give up at last. Gabel offered him a bed for the night, but, after a curt farewell to Ainslee, Livingstone left. Confident that he would have little further trouble from the man, Gabel turned to look at Ainslee.
“I believe I told you to cease trying to get out of bed. That did not mean rise, dress, and stroll down to the great hall,” he drawled.
“I didna stroll,” she said, wondering if her voice was trembling as much as her legs were.
“Nay?”
“Nay, I staggered. I thought ye would like to hear my answer.”
“I did.” He leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss. “It could have waited.”
“Nay. Weel, mayhaps, but I decided I didna want ye to change your mind.”
“There was no danger of that. Now, I should heartily scold you for using what little strength you have regained to come down here.”
“Mayhaps that could wait.” She smiled crookedly. “I think I had best return to my bed.”
When she did not move, he frowned slightly. “Are you intending to dine first?”
“Nay, I am trying to think of a way to tell ye that I canna move another step, and th
at ye will have to carry me back.”
Gabel laughed softly and stood up. “You are not going to be a very obedient wife, are you?” he asked as he picked her up in his arms.
Ainslee curled her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulders. “I fear not, Sir de Amalville. There is still time to change your mind,” she said, praying that no such thing would happen.
“There is little chance of that. As you well know, I can cling to a plan with great tenacity. I have but one question—do you say aye simply to chase away Livingstone?”
“Nay, I simply said aye a little faster than I might have,” she replied sleepily.
“Then, ’tis settled. As soon as you have the strength to stand before a priest, we shall be married.”
Twenty-two
“Will you cease your wriggling?” Marie demanded in affectionate aggravation.
Ainslee grimaced and forced herself to stand as still as she could. It had been three long weeks since she had accepted Gabel’s proposal. Everyone was pleased, and had spent the whole time preparing for the wedding. Ainslee began to think that she was the only one who was not completely delighted.
Not once in all that time had Gabel spoken of love. She had told herself that it did not matter, that she had enough love for both of them, and that he could grow to love her. It was all nonsense and she knew it. Such sentiments did not still the fears gnawing at her heart, and she could not make herself believe them, not even a little. She was also badly torn between what she wanted and what she would accept. She desperately wanted Gabel to marry her because he loved her, yet, even knowing she could suffer from that lack, she could not bring herself to stop the marriage. She wanted to be Gabel’s wife too badly.
The hardest thing she knew she would face was that she would still not be able to love Gabel freely and openly. From what little she knew, men who did not love, did not wish to have love thrust upon them. It made them uncomfortable when the woman showered them in a love they could not return. So, even though she would be his wife, she would still have to be careful to hide all she felt. That she feared could become a torture to her.
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