After her sisters left, Ailsa had curled up in her own bed and slept, waking in the early afternoon. She wanted to see Lucas but felt certain if she asked for permission the answer would be nay.

But sometimes it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Perhaps, after she reached the great hall, if she just walked purposefully to the cellar stairs, she could go down, unnoticed. So she dressed quickly and went downstairs.

It had been a vain hope. The midday meal was ending and the hall was filled with people.

Before Ailsa could take more than a step inside, her friend Maeve MacBain spotted her. She squealed, ran to Ailsa and hugged her. “Oh, Ailsa, I heard ye’d come home. I was so worried about ye. Are ye all right?”

Ailsa smiled and returned her hug. “Aye, I’m well.”

By this time both Fallon and Gillian had seen her as well.

“You look like ye had a good rest,” said Fallon.

“Aye, ye do,” agreed Gillian. “Come, sit at the table and have a bite to eat before everything is cleared away.”

“I’ll sit with ye while ye eat,” said Maeve.

Ailsa smiled and walked to the table. “I will eat but I’d like to take something to Lucas first.”

Gillian shook her head. “Nay, Ailsa. I’ve already had a tray sent down to him. Eat yer own dinner now.”

“Gillie, he was so kind to me—”

Gillian crossed her arms over her chest. “Ye are not going to the dungeon. Not until Fingal has decided what’s to be done, but until then, I don’t want the two of ye together.”

Ailsa had never heard Gillian sound quite so stern. Arguing with her now would not change her mind. She’d have to figure out a way to see Lucas later. “But Duff is with him?”

Gillian smiled. “Aye, he is. Ye were right. Apparently Duff was content to stay with him and as I understand it, Lucas was very pleased to have his company.”

Ailsa nodded. “Good. That makes me feel better.” She glanced around the hall. “By the way, where is Fingal?”

“He is taking a much needed rest too.”

“Aye. I expect the last few weeks haven’t been easy. I am truly sorry, Gillian.”

She smiled. “I know ye are, pet.”

~ * ~

In spite of her resolve to find a way to get to the dungeon, Ailsa didn’t have a chance to slip away and see him for the rest of the day.

That night, she paced her chamber, rapidly losing patience. She was a grown woman by all standards and yet everyone in her family treated her like a wee lassie.

She sighed. She guessed she couldn’t really blame them. She had to admit to herself that, for quite a while, she had probably behaved more like a wee lassie than a woman.

But the Grants had treated her like an adult.

The Grants treated ye like an adult, because ye behaved like an adult.

If she did the same now, maybe her family would as well.

Sadly, she’d started on the wrong foot. It was unfortunate that she and Lucas had arrived just as Fingal and his men had. As prepared as she thought she was to make her family understand, there had been no time for any explanations. All hell had broken loose when they realized who was with her and she panicked. She couldn’t stand the thought of Lucas being locked in the dungeon and she had lost control.

If he had just listened to her when she told him not to take her all the way to the castle, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

But if he’d done that, Ailsa knew Fingal would have seen it the same way Lucas did—that Lucas had risked her safety to save himself. Nay, he’d been right. If they ever had a hope of her family agreeing to a betrothal, they had to win them over bit by bit. She believed she had made a little headway with Gillian and Fallon today.

Sneaking down to the dungeon was probably not a good plan.

Gillian had been right in saying that he was a braw warrior and a few days in a dungeon wouldn’t hurt him.

But it hurt her. Ailsa missed him. She wanted to talk to him and see for herself that he was well.

Perhaps she could slip down there for just a few minutes. Just to assure herself.

Nay. While it might make her feel better in the short-term it would do nothing to prove to her family that she wasn’t a willful, wee lassie. She felt certain Lucas would tell her as much too. So, although she wasn’t happy about it, she had managed to convince herself to be compliant and wait for Fingal to make a decision, she went to bed.

~ * ~

Lucas lay staring at the ceiling, his hand resting on Duff’s head. Being isolated and unable to see the sky was oddly disorienting. A guard had brought him a tray of food for his evening meal along with several extra blankets, but Lucas had no idea how many hours ago that had been.

He should probably try to go to sleep, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t slept well in days. On their journey north, he’d gotten quite accustomed to sleeping with Ailsa curled up next to him. He’d have traded sleeping in his own warm bed to sleeping on the cold ground with her in his arms any day.

He chuckled as he remembered what he’d told William before he left for Edinburgh: The idea of snuggling up with a laird’s daughter who is cold and stiffly proper leaves me anything but…well, stiff. It hardly seems worth the work to woo her.

“Well, Ailsa isn’t a laird’s daughter is she, Duff. She’s a laird’s sister.” Wooing her had been no trouble at all. She certainly wasn’t “cold and stiffly proper” and his desire for her grew daily.

“What do ye reckon, Duff? Is it midnight yet?”

Duff raised his head and nudged Lucas’s hand. Lucas smiled and rubbed his head.

As much as he believed Ailsa needed Duff more, Lucas was exceedingly glad to have the dog’s company. He understood a bit better why Ailsa had been so distressed by being locked in the tower room alone except for meals. Of course, she could see outside and her bedchamber was not as unpleasant as this dank dungeon. Still, it was easy to lose oneself in one’s own thoughts when there was no other distraction.

And when one’s thoughts drifted to where will I go when Fingal MacLennan refuses a betrothal and William disowns me, another living thing with which to interact was very good.

But where would he go?

And how could he live without her?

Maybe they should have handfasted as Ailsa had suggested. It was as legally binding as a betrothal. But it wasn’t impossible to set aside. And Lucas figured it would be better in the long run if Fingal were focused on whether he would allow a betrothal, instead of how to undo a handfasting.

He thought back to that moment of chaos in the bailey when Ailsa had clung to him sobbing. It had been torture to see her so distraught and know that not only was he the cause of it, he couldn’t do anything to console her. He had kissed her head and told her, “It will all work out. I promise ye.”

He shook his head and scratched Duff’s ears. “What, in the name of all that’s holy, made me make that promise? Am I destined to disappoint her, lad? Break her heart?” Although, if he were honest, he believed he feared losing her more than anything else.