by Sabrina York
This snagged her attention. She peeped up at him. “Do you think they will have cakes?”
“I imagine so.” There seemed to be cakes every morning. “If Hamish hasn’t eaten them all.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh. We’d better go at once.”
“An excellent idea.”
Though she seemed inclined to leap over the rail to the library below, he was able to induce her to use the curling staircase. She did, however, slide down the banister like a hoyden. At the bottom, she paused to collect her bow. He didn’t miss the quick glower she sent him as she swung it over her shoulder. He didn’t mean to chuckle, but he did.
The morning room was just down the hall from the main floor of the library. It faced east and offered a view of the charming garden. The sideboard was covered with tempting offerings … but none of that captured Andrew’s attention as much as the woman sitting at the table.
His heart lurched as he saw her. And then, when she glanced up and caught his gaze, it thumped.
She was so beautiful in the morning light with her alabaster skin aglow, her green eyes sparkling and that naughty twist to her lips. “Good morning,” she said. It might have been his imagination, but her tone seemed infused with a sultry drawl.
“Good morning.” He offered the same.
A delightful pink crawled up her cheeks. To hide it—although it did no such thing—she turned to her daughter. “And what have you two been up to this fine morning?”
“Nothing,” Isobel mumbled, hooking her bow on the chair and heading for the buffet.
“Target practice,” he said.
Isobel shot him a quelling glare so he didn’t elaborate. Oh, he would have to warn Susana about her daughter’s antics, but he would prefer to wait until they were private. If he remembered. Once they were private. He did distract easily.
The look she sent him created a roil of hunger in his belly. And it wasn’t hunger for cakes. No doubt, once he got her in private, all thoughts of Isobel’s shenanigans would waft away in favor of shenanigans of their own.
The thought made him grin. He took the seat next to her and nudged her foot with his. Her blush blossomed. She tipped her head closer. “You were having target practice?” she murmured.
He rolled his eyes. “Isobel was.”
“Lord.” She glanced at her daughter, who was filling her plate with cakes. Apparently, all of them. “Do I want to know?”
“Probably not.”
Her leg relaxed against his. “Did you … sleep well?”
“Not at all.”
She quirked a brow.
“I was verra distracted … for some reason.”
“For what reason?” a cheerful voice chirped. He started when he realized Isobel had seated herself to his other side.
Susana muffled a chuckle. “Probably the patter of the rain,” she suggested.
Good enough. “It did rain all night. I was verra glad I wasna sleeping in the kennels.” For more than one reason. He and Susana shared another long, lingering look.
“I thought you were hungry,” Isobel said. “Aren’t you going to get breakfast?”
He studied her full plate, then snagged a cake. Though she screeched in outrage, he could see the smile behind it. “Mmm,” he murmured, taking a big bite. “Delicious.”
“You will need more than cake to sustain you,” Susana said in a motherly tone. It was rather off-putting to realize it was directed at him. “We have much to do today, if we’re to go over your plans and set the new campaign in motion.”
Ah, yes. The reason he was here to begin with. While he was gratified that he was finally making progress on his mission, he was swamped with the desire to launch a different campaign altogether.
Last night had been extraordinary. He was ready for another go.
Very ready.
Still, he stood and dutifully headed for the buffet and filled his plate with fluffy eggs, sausages, and bannocks. No cakes, though. They were all gone. As he retook his seat, Hamish entered the room, looking bright-eyed, well rested, and very pleased with himself. No doubt his bed had been very warm last night as well. “Good morn to you all,” he boomed. He headed for the buffet and surveyed it. Then he glanced at Isobel’s plate and frowned.
At his predatory surveillance, she picked up a cake and licked it. Then, in succession, licked them all.
Hamish blew out a sigh that might also have been a laugh and filled his plate with much less delectable choices. He took the spot across from Isobel. “It appears as though I slept too long,” he muttered.
“You have to be an early bird to get any cakes,” Susana said, nibbling back her grin.
“Aye.” Hamish’s eyes brightened as Saundra entered … carrying another platter of cakes, which she set before him with a dreamy smile. “Or make friends with the baker,” he said with a wink.
Saundra, still gazing at him with mooncalf eyes, bumped into the table as she exited the room.
Hamish leveled a triumphant grin at Isobel and then, as a precaution, he edged the platter out of her reach. In the case this wasn’t precaution enough, he picked up a cake. And licked it.
Isobel narrowed her eyes and made a sound like a growl, but Andrew could tell she was mightily entertained by his antics.
Before Hamish could lick all the cakes, she stole one.
They were very good cakes.
As they ate, they chatted about their plans for the day. The three adults had a full slate ahead of them, of course, but Isobel mentioned she planned to do more target practice and, when Andrew sent her a warning frown, she added it would probably be out of doors. If the rain stopped.
“If you go hunting, be sure to take Siobhan with you,” Susana said.
Isobel put out a lip. “He’s a boy.”
Susana frowned. “I doona want you out and about alone. Not until I know it’s safe.”
“Of course it’s safe,” Isobel sniffed, taking another bite of cake. It was amazing how much she could eat in one sitting.
Susana’s brow rumpled. “I dinna like the things I heard last night.” It was gratifying that his warnings had finally sunk in.
“I have my bow,” Isobel said with a shrug.
Susana sent Andrew a pleading look, though what that was for, he didn’t know. The girl certainly didn’t listen to him.
Still, he should probably say something. That pleading look and all. He cleared his throat. “I think your mother has a good point,” he said. At Isobel’s rebellious glower, he realized his mistake. “Granted, you are an excellent shot.” This seemed to mollify her, but not nearly enough.
Hamish shrugged. “If there are bands of ruffians camping in the woods, I would want another excellent bowman with me.” He tapped this lip. “This Siobhan, is he an excellent shot?”
“He’s fair.”
“Fair isna good enough if one needs protection. I would be happy to go hunting with you. Once our work is done.” Ah. That was an excellent tactic.
Pity it didn’t work.
Isobel rolled her eyes. “You’re old.”
The expression on Hamish’s face was priceless. “I most certainly am not old.”
“You are.”
Susana huffed a breath and sent them both a glance, which made clear her disgust at their puny efforts to manage her daughter. “Isobel, take Siobhan with you if you go into the woods. Or stay on the castle grounds.” Her tone left little room for dissent. Unfortunately, Isobel was a master at finding room for dissent.
She muttered something beneath her breath.
Susana narrowed her eyes rather fiercely. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, all right.”
While Susana seemed satisfied with Isobel’s apparent acquiescence, Andrew wasn’t convinced in the slightest. Perhaps it was the way she nibbled her lip, or the wicked gleam in her eye, or the way she swung her legs under the table.
Clearly, Isobel was going to do whatever the hell she damn well pleased, no matter what anyone s
aid. He made a mental note to check in on her regularly, no matter how busy they were today.
* * *
After breakfast, her daughter went her merry way, scuttling off with a concerning enthusiasm. Susana tried not to fret. Short of keeping her daughter by her side at every moment of the day, she couldn’t completely control her. Though she did take the precaution of asking Peiter to keep an eye on her. She hated assigning a guard—she knew Isobel would hate being watched—but with all she’d learned from Andrew about the holes in their defenses, and all the unsettling things that had happened in Reay of late, it made her feel better.
After sending Peiter on his mission, she joined Andrew and Hamish in the study to begin a thorough analysis of all the plans. Keir was supposed to meet them there, but he was late.
They began without him.
It surprised Susana how much she enjoyed the morning, talking strategy and tactics with Andrew. He had many clever ideas, and had insights she’d never considered. They found themselves engaged in long-winded debates about this option or that and as often as she acceded to him, he acceded to her.
In fact, he treated her as an equal.
More than that, he seemed to genuinely respect her opinion.
This was not new to her—she demanded respect from her men. But with Andrew, it was freely given.
Hamish, on the other hand, was annoying.
Not just because he was there, hovering, interjecting random observations into the conversation, and glorying in playing devil’s advocate. Susana couldn’t help noticing the way he watched them both with far too much interest.
Not that she felt she needed to keep her relationship with Andrew a secret—if, indeed, there was one—but knowing Hamish might be on to them made her uncomfortable. Especially when, at one point, Andrew unconsciously set his hand on her hip as he showed her a spot on the map, stroking her with his thumb. Hamish’s gaze locked onto the caress and he shot Susana a smirk.
She endeavored to ignore him.
Once they all had a firm grip on the changes they planned to implement, and were all in agreement on the critical points, Andrew suggested they ride out to review the spots that might be particularly troubling, as well as the locations they’d identified as good points to station patrols.
It had stopped raining and the air was cool, damp. It made her hair curl around her nape, but Susana gloried in it. She gloried in riding next to Andrew, too. As they made their way from the castle and through the fields, she pointed out landmarks and shared stories of her childhood.
At one point, she caught Hamish and Andrew exchanging what could only be described as a smirk.
She frowned at them, though there was no heat in it. “What?” she demanded.
Andrew shrugged. “It’s just that, hearing these tales of your adventures as a child…” He let the sentence dangle.
“What?” she clipped.
Hamish chuckled. “It’s just that…”
Andrew nodded. “Aye.”
“What?”
Andrew leaned in with a wicked grin. “It’s easy to see where Isobel gets it from.”
She bristled. “Gets what? From where?”
Hamish’s chuckle became a laugh. “She’s an unmitigated hoyden. Just like her mother.”
“She is not a hoyden.” And then, with slightly more bite, “And neither am I.”
They both eyed her dubiously, though there was a hint of humor and fondness in both the infuriating glances.
A week ago she would have skewered a man for suggesting her daughter was a hoyden. She certainly would have skewered Andrew for it. Now she couldn’t summon the outrage. Partially because they were probably right. But only probably.
“Did you climb the turret tower as a child?” Andrew asked. “Or hunt for books in the library?”
She ignored the heat rising in her cheeks; she’d done worse. Not that she’d admit it.
“Hoyden or not,” Andrew said, “she’s adorable.” That warmed her heart. Thawed her a little more, which was a lovely feeling, after being encased in ice as long as she had been. But it was likely not very prudent.
Still, she admitted, “She is, perhaps, a little undisciplined.”
“A little?” Hamish nearly choked on the words at her glower.
Susana sighed. “Papa insists it’s because she doesna have a father.” She resisted a glance at Andrew. “But I think that’s ridiculous. She has me and Papa…”
“Every child should have a father,” Hamish said.
Andrew stiffened in his saddle. “Not every child has a choice.”
Hamish glanced at his friend and grimaced. “I’m sorry, Andrew. I didn’t mean—”
Andrew waved his apology off. “I know it, Hamish. While it would be wonderful if each child had a father and a mother, life doesna always work out that way. We all just do the best we can with what we have. And I think Isobel is. She’s trying the best she can.”
Oh, lord, though his words supported her and her decision and her choices, though they defended her, how they hurt. Isobel could have a father. Should have a father. Did have a father.
All it would take was the courage to tell him.
But she wasn’t sure she had it.
She didn’t know what she was afraid of, but it was certainly something fierce and looming and dark. Aside from that, if she told Andrew the truth about Isobel’s parentage, it might destroy this fragile thing they’d built.
Then again, it might not. It could possibly launch them into a new direction, one she might find very satisfying indeed.
She fell silent as they continued on, down the track to the loch, mulling things over in her head. She knew she needed to tell him at some point. It was the when and the how and the consequences that froze her tongue.
That Hamish sent her speaking glances as they rode didn’t help.
* * *
They were nearly to the loch when a shrill scream rang in the air. Susana’s heart lurched painfully. She knew that voice. “Isobel,” she breathed. She sat straighter in her saddle, put her heels to the mare’s belly, and pounded down the path.
The vision she beheld as she rounded the last curve sent a bolt of cold lightning down her spine. Her bowels churned.
Isobel stood on the banks of the loch, surrounded by a coterie of beefy, burly men—who clearly hadn’t washed in some time. They each had weapons, pointed at her wee daughter, and they were closing in. That she had her bow raised and—even as Susana watched—let an arrow fly did not calm her mother’s heart. There were six grown men and only one small girl and she could only point her arrow at one at a time. It wouldn’t be long until one of them rushed her.
One man lay on the bank moaning and clutching at the arrow in his thigh. Clearly Isobel had found her mark on that bastard.
Fury raged within her and she pulled an arrow from her quiver. But before she had a chance to fire, Andrew launched himself from his steed with an enraged bellow. He and Hamish barreled into the clearing and, unsheathing their swords in a practically choreographed motion, they advanced on the scene in a trice.
Susana wasn’t far behind, with her bow and quiver in hand.
At Andrew’s cry, the men surrounding Isobel whipped around to face this new threat, but it was a mistake. Isobel let her next arrow fly. It landed in the larger one’s backside. He howled and whirled back on her, but she already had another arrow nocked.
Pride blossomed in Susana’s chest. She was only five, but her daughter was fierce. Not fierce enough to fight off six grown men, but fierce enough to try.
Andrew and Hamish advanced with their swords at the ready and engaged the uninjured men, drawing them to the left and away from Isobel. When she saw an opening, Susana ran to her daughter’s side.
“Mama,” Isobel cried, and launched herself into her arms. Susana held her tight. Thank God she was all right—
The villain Isobel had shot in the thigh crawled closer and attempted to seize her ankle. Susana halted him, brandishi
ng an arrow at his face. The man paled and eased back, but his narrowed eyes spat vitriol. She tugged Isobel toward the horses and safety, skirting around the melee, balancing her daughter and her bow with a practiced finesse.
But her bow wasn’t necessary.
Andrew and Hamish fought the four men who were still on their feet with astounding skill. Her eye was drawn to Andrew, the elegant swing of his sword, the clever ripostes and lunges. It was almost as though he were one with the battle, as though he anticipated his opponent’s every move, as though this were a well-practiced dance.
It was mesmerizing to watch. The ripple of muscle, the bunch of his thighs as he lunged, the ferocity of his expression as he battled to protect her daughter.
Something hardened in her chest and cracked a little.
It might have been six years of resentment. Or her childish desire to make him pay for his crimes. Or her unholy fear that he would break her heart again.
As unwise as it might be to let all that go, she couldn’t help but do so. At least a little.
“He’s verra good,” Isobel whispered in her ear.
Susana tightened her hold. “Aye. He is.”
They both were, but there was no doubt, Andrew was better.
It didn’t take the other men long to realize they were outclassed. One by one, they disengaged and ran into the woods. When Hamish charged after them, Andrew called him back. “We have these bastards,” he said, gesturing to the wounded men. “Let’s take them back to the castle and interrogate them. We can send patrols out for the others.”
Isobel wriggled and, certain the threat had been vanquished, Susana let her go. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she bounded over to Andrew and stared up at him with shining eyes. “That was brilliant!” she crowed, holding wide her arms and spinning around.
He chuckled and patted her on the head. Then he knelt before her and let her examine his sword. She expressed disappointment that there was no blood and they both laughed.
Susana’s chest ached, seeing them like that, their heads together in the afternoon sunlight. Their so-similar faces. Their matching dimples.
Ach, far too painful. She had to look away. Her gaze tangled with Hamish’s and she winced, reminded that he had noticed the similarities as well.
