Page 94 of Fang & Fury

“Aye … thanks.”

He poured them both some more and then settled down opposite her.

“Sorry, you haven’t seen much of me of late, lass,” he said then, meeting her eye.

Ailsa shrugged, although her gaze was veiled now. “It’s hardly surprising … the fort’s been in chaos.” She paused then, her fingers flexing around her cup. “But you’ve been in your element, haven’t you?”

He harrumphed. “I don’t know about that … I’ve certainly been throwing my weight around.”

“Does the queen listen to you though? I’ve caught her looking askance at you more than once.”

He sighed. “Lara wants me to prove I’m not my brother. I’ve yet to do so.”

“When this is done, is she likely to offer you the crown of Braewall?”

He raised his eyebrows. “No idea … but one thing at a time. We still have to rip it from Niall’s head first.”

She waved him away before taking a large swallow of wine. “Just pretend it’s all over with for a moment. Niall’s dead. His army is dealt with. Will you kneel to Lara … will you become her overking?”

“Of course.” He answered without hesitation. There was only one answer for him. He was a member of Braewall’s ruling family. “It’s my birthright.”

Silence settled between them.

Ailsa lowered her cup. She cleared her throat then. “I’m aware I’m getting ahead of myself here … but this is your environment, not mine.”

He almost brushed off her comment—almost said that none of that mattered, how she’d have a place at his side regardless. However, something in her expression stopped him.

He was suddenly aware of how caught up in it all he’d been over the past days. His focus had been on the training yard, councils, and ensuring his voice was heard. He should have sought her out long before now.

“Ailsa.” His voice roughened. “I haven’t been paying attention, have I? What’s wrong?”

29: WILD THINGS

“I DON’T THINK I’d be happy in your world.”

Darach frowned. He hadn’t yet asked her to marry him, although there was no doubt in his mind that Ailsa would make a fine queen consort. She was dignified, proud, and had a strong sense of justice. However, she wasn’t talking about whether she’d suit the role, but whether she’d enjoy it. Another matter entirely. “Why not?”

She stretched her legs out before her, crossing them at the ankles. “That life just looks like a cage to me.” He raised his eyebrows, and she sighed. “If Braewall’s broch is anything like this one, I’d be clawing at the walls within days.”

“I’d never trap you,” he replied. “Surely, you realize that?”

Her lips lifted at the corners. “I know you wouldn’t … not deliberately.”

He stilled, his gaze roaming over her serious face. She wasn’t playing with him, but deadly earnest. This really was bothering her.

“What are you saying … that you’d prefer a life like Fern’s?” he teased, trying to lighten the mood a little.

She harrumphed. “It has its appeal.”

“So, you prefer the mercenary to the prince, do you?”

When she didn’t answer, he leaned in, taking her cup and setting it down with his on the hearth. He then reached for her hands, threading their fingers together. “I’m still the same man.”

She stared back at him. “Are you?”

“Of course.” He halted then. “Actually, let me rephrase that … since meeting you, I’m a better man.”

Her fingers stiffened against his. “Darach—”