“I even snuck in and slept by Kade’s cradle,” he said, smiling at the memory at how foolish he’d been. “Needless to say, the nursemaids had something to say about that.”
“You know, despite your bests efforts to convince the world otherwise, you’re really a very nice man.”
He threw her a glance of mock astonishment. “Perhaps I should get the doctor back in here? I’m sure you’re suffering from a fever.”
She narrowed her gaze. “To quote your grandfather, bugger you.”
“Tsk, tsk. Such language in front of a baby.”
A chuckle was her only reply.
He gazed down at the slumbering infant and couldn’t hold back a smile. She was a pretty little lass and looking at her made the world seem like a better place. Carefully, he reached in and touched her wee fist.
“Have you given her a name yet?”
When silence met his query, he turned to look at Ainsley, who was staring down at her lap.
Royal frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I . . . I haven’t named her yet,” she said, finally meeting his gaze.
“Why not?”
“I didn’t think I had the right. After all, I’m not going to raise her. What if the people who take her hate the name?”
“Then they can change it,” he said. “But she’s your daughter, and she’ll always be your daughter. You have the right to give her a name.”
“No, I don’t,” she said in a quiet voice that held legions of sorrow.
“Ainsley,” he said, taking a step forward.
She blew out a breath, as if annoyed with herself. “There’s no need to fuss, Royal. I’m perfectly f . . . fine.”
That little wobble in her voice all but killed him. “Oh, my sweet lass,” he said, starting for the bed.
She held up a hand. “Would you please bring her to me? I’m sure she must be hungry.”
Her abrupt tone brought him up short. Ainsley hated feeling vulnerable, and the glint in her eyes signaled a clear warning. But as much as Royal knew anything, he knew she needed comforting at the moment.
She forestalled him by shaking her head. “Please, Royal. I just want my baby, for as long as I can have her.”
He turned back to the cradle. He’d sacrifice anything for Ainsley—walk through the torments of hell to love her. But she didn’t want him. And what she did want—or need—he could never give her.
Staring blindly down at the infant, he wrestled himself under control. This wasn’t about him. It would never be about him, when it came to Ainsley. All he could do, as her aunt suggested, was be her friend. That would have to be enough.
“Royal?” Her voice was tentative. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said, throwing a smile over his shoulder. “Just trying to remember how to do this.”
“Very carefully.”
He huffed out a chuckle and reached down to slide his hands under the blankets.
As soon as he touched the wee lass, her eyes popped open. Her gaze wide, the baby stared up at him. Royal felt a jolt in the center of his chest. Her eyes were a deep velvety-blue, and the color of violets.
Exactly like her mother’s.
He had to swallow hard before he could speak. “Well, there you are, little lady. Would you like to see your mamma?”
When she flapped her tiny arms, as if answering him, his heart thudded again. “You’re a bonny lass, aren’t you? All right, here we go.” He gently picked her up.
“Make sure you support her head,” Ainsley said.
“Yes, my lady,” he replied with an amused snort. He was damn sure he’d held a lot more babies in his life than she had.
“You needn’t be so smug, Royal Kendrick,” she said as he carried the baby to her. “I know you have miles more experience than I. But I am trying.”
“You’re doing splendidly.” He gently deposited the baby in her arms.
He couldn’t help staring at the beautiful picture they made. Her face soft and vulnerable, Ainsley smiled down at her daughter, oblivious to everything but her. The wee mite peered back, her focus locked on her mamma’s face. They were an absolutely perfect pair, and never had Royal wanted to be a part of something more in his life.
But never had he felt more shut out, as if an unbreakable wall was between him and the only thing that mattered.
Suddenly feeling like a voyeur, he wandered over to the window, fiercely concentrating on the untrimmed rhododendrons in the garden below. The grounds were quite beautiful and would make a magnificent frame for the dignified old manor house if someone paid more attention to them.
He spent a few minutes mentally trimming bushes and reordering paths to his satisfaction before glancing back over his shoulder. Ainsley was watching him with an expression he couldn’t decipher.
“Do you want me to go so you can feed her?” he asked.
She smiled. “No, I want you to come sit with us.”
Oh, he recognized that smile. His lovely lady was scheming. “What are you up to now, lass?”
She patted the bed. “Come sit. I’m sure your leg needs a rest.”
He scoffed. “You’re the one who just had a baby. You should have the rest, not me.”
“As you would say, I’m fine.” She patted the bed again, this time more firmly. “Please, sit.”
He eased down on the side of the bed, being careful not to jostle her. “Don’t blame me if your aunt comes in and kicks up a fuss because we’re in bed together.”
“Because no doubt we’d be engaging in frolics,” she said with heavy sarcasm.
“What else would we be doing in bed?”
“Idiot. Here, take the baby. You can’t do anything outrageous as long as you’re holding on to her.”
Surprised that she would relinquish her, Royal arranged the baby in the crook of his arm.
“You really are good with infants, aren’t you?” Ainsley said.
“All right, that’s at least two compliments from you in the last ten minutes. What’s afoot, lass?”
“Really? I can be nice too, you know.”
“No, you can’t, so you might as well just spit it out. What is it you want?”
“You are so awful,” she said.
He simply raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, very well,” she said. “I suppose there’s no point in trying to soften you up, especially since what I have to ask is so enormous.”
In the back of his mind, a faint warning bell sounded. “Then you’d better just get it out.”
She sucked in a deep breath, as if for courage, pushing her lovely breasts against the lacy trim of her dressing gown.
“I want you to take my baby,” she said. “And stop staring at my chest.”
He jerked his gaze up. “What . . . what did you just say?” He stared at her, his brain scrambling to make sense of her words.
“I want you to take my baby.”
Good God. She was serious. Even though she calmly regarded him, he could feel the tension pouring off her in waves.
“You don’t mean, permanently, do you?” he asked.
“Of course I mean permanently, you dolt.” She closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself. When she opened them, she grimaced an apology. “I’m making a hash of it, I know. It’s because I’m so nervous.”
Royal forced himself not to overreact. “It’s all right, love. I’m just trying to understand. Why would you think it a good idea to give the baby to me, especially since your aunt already found a suitable family?”
She touched her babe’s cheek with a gentle fingertip. “I can’t bear the idea of her going to strangers. I suppose that’s stupid, since that’s how these situations are typically handled. But I simply cannot do it.” Her desperate gaze begged him to understand.
“It’s not stupid at all,” he said. “But surely you can trust your aunt to have this right.”
She made a helpless gesture. “I don’t know. I’ve never met them, and I can never meet them
if I want to keep her safe. If Cringlewood ever found out, he would use the baby against me. He would force me to marry him, and that I cannot abide.”
“Ainsley, I would gladly take care of that bastard, if you’d let me.” And he would enjoy every moment of it.
“You would only make things worse.”
“But—”
“Please don’t argue with me about that,” she said firmly. “And stop upsetting the baby.”
He glanced down. The mite had once more fallen into slumber, her mouth sagging open as she made little baby snores.
Ainsley gave him another sheepish smile. “I told you she was a good sleeper.”
“So you did.” He thought for a few seconds, and then nodded. “All right. I will respect your privacy on this particular issue—for now.”
She went back to looking huffy. “You don’t really have a choice.”
“I do if I’m to take your baby.”
She froze for several long seconds. “Does that mean you’ll actually do it?”
Dammit . He’d walked right into that one. “I’m still trying to understand why you’re asking me, of all people.”
“Because you’re my friend, Royal, my true friend. I haven’t got many of them. And I trust you to keep my secrets.” She pressed a hand to his shoulder, leaning forward a bit. “I trust you to keep her safe.”
The intensity of her gaze robbed him of breath. He wanted to believe she had no idea what she was asking of him, but that was nonsense. Ainsley knew exactly what she was doing. She always did.
“All right, you trust me. But how can you think I could possibly take care of an infant? I’m hardly in a position to support myself, much less a child.”
“But you wouldn’t have to do it alone, would you?” she argued. “You’d have your entire family to help, especially Victoria. I can’t think of a better family to protect and raise her than the Kendricks.”
He stared, incredulous. “But I thought you hated most of my family.”
“Well, I do hate your grandfather,” she admitted. “But the rest are quite nice.”
“Even the twins?”
“They’ll probably be all right once they get older.” She hesitated for a moment. “Probably. But the rest of you are quite splendid.”
Royal felt like he’d been run over by a herd of wild boar. “And you’re willing to have your baby raised in Scotland?”
“Better than in England on Cringlewood’s estates,” she said, her voice taking on a bitter tinge. “I know she will be safe at Castle Kinglas, as safe as she could be anywhere on earth. And since the Kendricks rarely travel south of the border, any possible connection to me will quickly fade.”
It took a moment for the full weight of her words to sink in. When it did, he felt the blow through his entire body.
Ainsley abruptly withdrew her hand, her gaze sliding sideways. “It does mean, of course, that we can never see each other again. It would be too great a risk.”
When he cursed under his breath, she faltered. “Or . . . or at least not for a long time. It’s the only way to keep me safe, Royal. To keep my baby safe.”
“You mean keep your blasted reputation safe.” When she flinched, he mentally cursed himself. “I’m sorry. I had no right to say that.”
She shook her head. “No, you have every right. And I do want to protect my reputation, which is admittedly selfish of me, but it’s more than that. The only true way to protect my baby is to pretend that I never gave birth to her.”
“I understand.”
He did, too. But it did nothing to patch the hole in the middle of his chest.
“I’m so dreadfully sorry,” she said quietly. “I have no right to ask this of you. If it’s too much . . .”
Royal knew he was the one being selfish. After all, he’d promised Ainsley countless times that he would do anything to help, anything to protect her. That had to mean a willingness to take on any sacrifice or pain, any responsibility, even one this enormous. If not, the promise had meant nothing.
“Of course you should ask me,” he said, “and I’m honored you did.”
She ducked her head. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re incredibly kind.”
He didn’t feel kind. He felt like cursing the heavens, raging at the injustice of it all—for him, for Ainsley, and for the innocent babe.
Looking down at the bundle in his arms, he studied the sweet, slumbering child. Something both terrible and wonderful stirred in his chest, filling the dark hole just a wee bit.
“So, I’m to walk into Kinglas with this little lass and say what, exactly?”
Ainsley’s head jerked up, her eyes going wide. “Does that mean you’ll do it?” She sounded breathless.
He gazed at the woman he adored—the woman he was losing all over again, and this time forever. “Aye, lass. I’ll take your daughter, and I’ll cherish her like my own.”
Chapter Six
Ainsley stood in the shelter of the staircase, watching the bustle in the entrance hall. Today Royal would take her baby away. From this day forward, Ainsley would have no say in her daughter’s life.
She glanced at the darling bundle in her arms. Her daughter, asleep as usual, was wrapped against the gusting breeze off the loch, a soft knit cap on her little head and a cashmere blanket softly swaddling her. Royal had sent an express to his brother, requesting Arnprior’s coach. Along with the wet nurse, he and the baby would make the journey to Kinglas in safety and comfort, guarded by the earl’s grooms.
But Ainsley still worried. Her daughter was but four days old and shouldn’t even be out of her mamma’s arms, much less taking a carriage journey. But escaping as soon as possible to avoid discovery was paramount.
She sucked in a harsh breath to stem the tears. Not only was she losing her child, she was losing Royal and all they might have been to each other. He was the only man she’d ever thought she could love.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered to her daughter. “It’s my fault. I should have been smarter and braver.”
No matter how hard she pummeled her brain, she could see no path forward but this one.
Her daughter stirred, her rosebud mouth gaping open in an endearing yawn. Her eyelids fluttering open, her deep blue glaze unfocused and soft with sleep, she stared up at Ainsley for several long seconds, then snuffled a bit as her eyelids drifted back down. Soon, her breathing evened out and she slumbered once more.
“Oh, you are the best baby.” Ainsley couldn’t hold back a watery laugh. “It’s a miracle how splendid you are.”
No matter what, she would never regret bringing this blessed child into the world.
“Now, lass, what are you up to over here in the corner?”
She glanced up, mustering a smile for Royal. His voice was gruff and his brogue strong—a sure signal his emotions were running high.
“Please tell me you’ve finally come up with a name for my daughter. She cannot leave here without one.” She’d left that decision up to him, but he’d been annoying reluctantly to make a choice.
He’d also been avoiding her the last few days, only coming to see her to discuss specific details of their plan. While he was always polite and kind, it was obvious he wanted to spend as little time in her company as possible. Even though she understood the reasons why, his subtle rejection stung like a swarm of bees.
Ainsley understood that he was struggling with a complex stew of emotions—including sorrow and anger—so she couldn’t blame him for staying away. After all, she was all but gutted by what she was feeling. There was also a great deal to be done before they left, and the responsibility for all that fell on him.
Royal placed a hand on the baby’s head. His touch was so gentle that it made Ainsley’s throat go tight. Whenever he’d come to see her, he’d made a point of holding the baby, pacing slowly back and forth with her in his arms as he and Ainsley thrashed out tricky logistics.
“I want the lass to get used to me, and to know I’ll always b
e there for her,” he’d explained.
He’d always be there for the baby, but not her. After he’d left the room, Ainsley had buried her face in a pillow and bawled like a child.
Royal smiled. “Ah, yes, the name. I think I’ve finally got it.”
“Do you hear that, my girl?” she said, gazing down at her daughter. “You’re finally going to get a name.”
“I think we should call her Tira,” he said.
She glanced up, startled. “Isn’t that your mother’s name?”
“Aye. It’s a good one, don’t you think?”
“That’s . . . that’s very special,” she stammered. “Are you sure?”
“She’s a special lass, so she needs a special name. My mother would have loved her, just like her mamma loves her.”
Ainsley could practically hear the cracks sundering her heart. “Royal, I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.
He briefly cupped her cheek, his palm rough and warm on her skin. “I know, lass. It’s a hard—”
“Sir, I’m right sorry, but I need a word,” interrupted one of the grooms, coming up to them.
Royal cast an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Sorry,” he said to Ainsley.
“It’s fine. I’ll just wait here until you’re ready.”
He stepped back and ran an assessing gaze over her figure. “Are you sure you should be standing here on the stone floor? Shouldn’t you still be resting?”
“I’m fine, and if I have to stay in bed another moment, I’ll shoot myself.”
Besides, once Royal and the baby left, she would probably crawl into bed and spend the next three weeks crying her eyes out.
“Well, we can’t have that,” he said with a quick flash of a smile. “It won’t be much longer, but make sure you and Tira stay out of the draft.”
The lump in her throat became a boulder at the sound of her daughter’s name. It was a beautiful name. His mother’s name.
“You may not have noticed, but there’s a roaring fire less than ten feet away from me,” she said tartly, trying to cover up her distress. “I’m practically expiring from the heat.”
Royal gestured to Hector, who lurked behind an old suit of armor in the corner, doing his best to avoid any work, as usual. “Bring her ladyship a chair,” he ordered before striding off to speak with his groom.
The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1) Page 10
