A Winter Wedding: Strangers at the Altar / The Warrior's Winter Bride

‘Nothing.’ She bit her lip. ‘You don’t talk to me. You don’t value my opinion.’

‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong. Do you know what I was doing this morning? No, of course you don’t, for I didn’t tell you—and before you berate me for that, I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure he’d come.’

‘Who?’

‘Eoin.’

Her latent anger left her. Ainsley smiled. ‘You’ve spoken to Eoin?’

‘I have. I met him at the chapel.’

‘And?’

Innes laughed nervously. ‘And it was difficult.’

He was clearly uncomfortable. If she did not press him, he would leave it at that. She was pleased, no, more than pleased, that he had taken her advice, though it would most likely result in her further exclusion from matters of the lands. ‘Has Eoin agreed to help you?’ Ainsley asked carefully.

‘He has.’

Innes was staring down at his notes, but she was not fooled. ‘And you’ve made your peace?’ Ainsley persisted.

‘We’ve agreed to disagree.’ Finally, Innes met her gaze. ‘He thinks I should have come back sooner. Though he understands why I left, he doesn’t understand why I stayed away. Though he knows fine that if I’d come back, my father and I would have done nothing but argue, and my father would have carried on down whatever path he’d chosen regardless, still Eoin thinks I should have tried.’

‘That’s ridiculous. Then you would have both been miserable. Besides, you had no cause to think that your father would choose this path of destruction,’ Ainsley said fiercely. ‘You told me yourself, he was a good laird.’

‘Aye, well, it seems you’re the only person to see it my way,’ Innes said despondently.

She put her hand on his arm. ‘You brought me here so you’d have someone on your side.’

‘And I’ve done my damnedest to push you away since we arrived.’ He smiled ruefully down at her. ‘I’m sorry. I did warn you. You need to speak up more.’

She flinched. ‘I know.’

Innes cursed under his breath. ‘That was unfair of me.’ He kissed her fingertips. ‘This marriage business, I’m not very good at it, I’m afraid. I’m too used to being on my own.’

‘That’s one thing you need to remember. You’re not alone. May I see?’ she asked, pointing at the notebook.

Innes had made several small sketches. He began to talk as he showed them to her, of tides, about the advantages of wood over stone, of angles and reinforcing. She nodded and listened, though she understood about a quarter of what he said, content to hear his voice full of enthusiasm, to watch the way he ran the pencil through his hair, reminded of the way Felicity did something very similar.

‘That’s quite enough,’ he said eventually, closing the notebook. ‘You’re probably bored to death.’

‘No. I didn’t follow much of it, but it wasn’t boring.’

Innes laughed, putting his arm around her.

‘Do you think you’ll be ready to announce the new pier after the Rescinding?’ she asked. ‘Perhaps you could show them a drawing. There’s three weeks, would there be time?’

‘I don’t see why not. I could do the preliminary survey myself. It’s what my trade is after all.’

Ainsley beamed up at him. ‘If all the villagers and tenants see what a clever man you are, then perhaps they’ll understand why you had to leave.’

‘Atonement?’

‘No, you’ve nothing to atone for. It is a gift. A symbol of the modern world brought to Strone Bridge by their modern laird.’

Innes laughed. ‘I can just about hear my father turning in his grave from here.’

‘Good.’

He pulled her closer. ‘I saw it this morning at the chapel. The grave I mean, and yes, it was for the first time. I could see you just about chewing your tongue off trying not to ask. Eoin told me about the funeral. It seems I have Mhairi to thank for doing things properly.’

‘We have a lot to thank Mhairi for,’ Ainsley agreed, enjoying the warmth of his body, the view, the salty tang of the air. ‘She’s at one with Eoin and everyone else in thinking that you should have come back here earlier, but now you’re here, she’s of the opinion that you should be given a chance.’

‘That’s big of her. Mhairi was my father’s mistress,’ Innes said.

Ainsley jerked her head up to look at him. ‘Mhairi! Your father’s mistress! Good grief. Are you sure?’

‘Eoin told me.’ Innes shook his head. ‘I still can’t believe it. He thought I knew. It seems everyone else does.’

‘But—did he leave her anything in his will? You have not mentioned...’

‘No. According to Eoin, he’d already made provision. A farm, an annuity. She did not need to stay on at the castle when he died.’

‘But she did, so she must have wanted to. How very—surprising. It’s funny, when I was talking to her over breakfast yesterday morning, I was thinking that she was an attractive woman and wondering why she had not married. There is something about her. Her mouth, I think. It’s very sensual.’

‘I believe I’ve said something similar to you.’ Innes pulled her back towards him, tipping up her face. ‘Infinitely kissable, that is what your mouth is, and if you don’t mind...’

‘I don’t.’

‘Good,’ Innes said, and kissed her.

* * *

They took the path back up to the castle together. While the track used by the cart wound its serpentine way upwards, the footpath was a sheer climb. Out of breath at the top, Ainsley stood with her chest heaving. ‘I don’t suppose your engineering skills can come up with a solution for that,’ she said.

‘I will have my surveyor take a look,’ Innes said. ‘See if it can be widened, maybe change some of the angles so they’re not so sharp. That way we can get bigger vehicles down to collect supplies.’

‘And steamer passengers,’ Ainsley said. ‘Then you can build a tea pavilion up here on the terrace, where the view is best. Although there would be no need to build anything new if you set up a tearoom in that lovely drawing room. Then Mhairi could show the excursionists around the castle for a sixpence. She tells those ghost stories much better than you do, and she has lots more. There was one about a grey lady in the kitchens that gave me goosebumps.’

They began to walk together up to the castle. ‘Mhairi’s mother was the village fey wife when I was wee. A witch, though a good one, of course.’

‘Better and better. She could make up some potions. You could sell them in the teashop. And some of the local tweed, too,’ Ainsley said, handing Innes the keys to the main door, for they were going to inspect the Great Hall together. ‘Before you know it, Strone Bridge will be so famous that the steamers will be fighting to berth at this new pier of yours.’

Innes paused in the act of unlocking the door. ‘You’re not being serious?’

She had forgotten, in her enthusiasm, how he felt about the place. Ainsley’s smile faded. ‘Don’t you think it’s a good idea?’

‘I think it’s a ridiculous idea. Besides the fact that I have no intentions of wasting my fortune having the place made habitable, it’s a monstrosity—no one in their right mind would pay to see it.’