by Sabrina York
She fell asleep, deep in prayer that she had not lost the best thing that had ever happened to her. Without him, her life would be a dreary prison, with her shambling pointlessly from day to day.
She didn’t think she could bear it.
* * *
Andrew woke with a weight on his chest and a searing pain in his shoulder. He grimaced and shifted, but the weight didn’t lessen and it only made his shoulder throb more. He cracked open an eye. He wasn’t surprised to see a familiar shock of silver-blond hair spread out over his person. More than once, since he’d arrived in Reay, he’d woken to find Isobel draped over him. It was a surprise, however, to see that adorable, wee moue puckered in sleep.
A delicate snore to his left caught his attention and he turned his head—though slowly, as it sent pings shooting through his neck. Susana was slumped in the chair by the window, also asleep.
While he didn’t mind waking to either face—he truly loved them both—it confused him. Then he remembered the scene in Scrabster’s woods. The shot that had downed him.
He glanced at his shoulder to find it bare and bandaged and he winced. Bluidy hell. The bastard had shot him.
And worse … he’d been aiming for Isobel.
A blinding rage, unlike any he’d ever known, scalded him. His muscles bunched as his mind whirled. He would kill the bastard. Eviscerate him with a spoon.
How dare he point a pistol at a child? This child? His child?
He stilled. Shock stole his breath as the realization, certainty, flooded him. His gaze whipped back to Isobel and he studied her features.
In this light—and in light of the revelations about Mairi—it was undeniable.
Aye, he knew. Somehow, he’d always known.
From the hair that was too much like his for it to be a coincidence, to the fierce glower that so often reminded him of his brother, to the eyes that were far too familiar. She was his.
But it went far beyond the physical likeness they shared.
It was an affinity of spirit. The day he’d met her, he’d known her. Felt some tenuous connection. He’d adored her nearly from the start.
With a trembling hand he stroked her hair. Some emotion welled within him; it filled his heart until it hurt. It was probably love, but there was some fear twined within it.
He recalled that day on the tower when she’d nearly plunged to her death, and the incident where she’d teetered on the railing in the library, and this last debacle where someone had crept into her room and stolen her in her sleep.
Within moments of knowing the joy that he was a parent, he was poleaxed and paralyzed by the sheer clawing terror of it.
She could have been killed or injured any one of those times.
He could have lost her.
Dear God. He didn’t know if he had the fortitude for parenthood. He didn’t know if he had the strength. It was horrifying. Petrifying.
And then she opened her eyes. Their gazes met and melded; she smiled. Dimples sprouted on her cheeks, dimples so like his. And he knew. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how frightened this made him, how vulnerable he felt. It didn’t matter if he was strong enough to face the challenge. He would.
Because he loved her.
“Good morning,” he tried to say, but it came out as a croak.
“Good morning,” she whispered, patting his cheek.
“I’m verra glad you are safe.” It was all he could manage and to his mortification, it was almost a wail.
Her smile broadened. “I’m verra glad you’re not dead.”
He chuckled, though it hurt. “Me too.”
“Mama shot him, in case you were wondering.”
“Shot him? Who?”
“Scrabster.” And then, as an afterthought, “Oh, and Keir, too. In the arse.”
He chuckled, then winced. “Ah. I’m verra glad to hear it.”
“They willna be bothering us again.”
“I’m verra glad to hear that, too.” He glanced around the strange room. “Where are we?”
“Brims.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s boring here, but Mama wanted to stay until you were better. She hasna left your side for days.”
“Has it been days?”
She rolled her eyes. “Forever, practically. Did I mention it’s boring here? But now that you’re better, we’ll be going home.”
Home. The word made prickles rise on his skin. He’d thought of Dunnet as his home for the entirety of his life. He’d planned to live out his days within the walls of Lochlannach Castle. Now he wasn’t so sure that was where he wanted to be. It seemed empty and hollow. Without her.
Susana was lovely in the soft light of dawn, with her mouth slightly agape in her sleep. Though it seemed there was no room in his chest whatsoever, his heart swelled more. How he loved her. How he always had. He loved them both. Beyond bearing.
Funny how painful it was.
Not as painful as when Isobel leaned her elbow on his chest, though. He winced and she shifted off his wound. She was nothing if not sensitive, his Isobel. She sent him a look beneath unnaturally long lashes. “Are you going to leave us now? Now that Scrabster has been defeated?”
Pain and determination lanced him.
Not if he could help it.
“Dounreay still needs defenses.” Was that a hopeful note in his tone? “Your mama needs a new captain of the guard…”
“Do you want to stay?” Isobel asked, for some reason, in a whisper.
Andrew glanced at Susana and nodded. “I do.” In fact, a growing resolution rose within him. He would not be leaving. Even if he was wrong and she didn’t have tender feelings for him, no one and nothing could make him leave her—leave them—again. He would stay here forever, even if she didn’t want him, just so he could be close. Just so he could keep her safe. Just so he could watch Isobel grow.
At that thought, he couldn’t help but reach out and trace her cheek. Her skin was soft and tender. Her expression innocent and sweet. There was so much he could teach her. So many ways he could guide her as she became the woman she was meant to be. It humbled him that he might have the chance. In her features he saw himself and Susana combined. That did something strange to his soul. Something beautiful.
She nibbled on her lip, much the way Susana might when she was contemplating mischief. “I’ve been thinking,” she said.
Something skirled in his gut. It was always concerning when Isobel had been thinking. “What?”
“Do you still like her?”
“Och, aye. I do.”
“Do you want to marry her?”
A nod. He couldn’t manage the word.
Isobel grinned. It was one of her impish grins, but because it was apparently for his benefit, he didn’t worry so very much. “If you like her and want to marry her, you should probably kidnap her.”
He blinked. “I … what?”
“Kid-nap-her. It’s what Scotsmen do when they want to woo a difficult woman.”
“Wherever did you get an idea like that?”
“I read it in a book.”
“One of the books you skewered?”
Her smile was crooked, but she didn’t answer, other than to issue a heinous chuckle.
“Do you really think I should kidnap her?”
“There’s a nice island in the loch. It has a hut. That’s where all the lads take their kidnapped ladies.”
“All the lads…” he sputtered. It was concerning to have a daughter with such knowledge. And she was only five. He could only imagine her at fifteen. At the same time the thought confounded him, it created a queer warmth in his belly. She would be a beauty. No doubt. Men would buzz around her like bees. He should probably begin sharpening his sword now. “How do you know these things?”
Impatience simmered in her glare. “I listen. But that is beside the point.”
He sighed. “Was there a point?”
“Aye. You should kidnap her. Make her marry you.”
“No one makes Susana
Dounreay do anything she does not want to do. Have you noticed? Aside from which”—he indicated his shoulder—“I’m hardly in the condition to kidnap anyone.”
Isobel glanced at his wound. “That is true. You should probably wait until you are better.”
Andrew frowned. He didn’t want to wait. He didn’t want to wait to claim her.
Isobel grabbed his ears and forced him to meet her eye. “I should verra much like to have you as a father.”
Something lurched, shifted within him.
She wanted him as her father. Not because they were flesh and blood, but because she wanted him. He grinned. “Not Hamish?”
She blew out a breath. “Hamish is a fine man. He would be a fine father. But I like you best. And Mama doesna like Hamish.”
“She doesna? How do you know?”
She blew out a breath. Her hair riffled. “When she looks at him … it’s not there.”
“What’s not there?”
Isobel shrugged. “I doona know what you call it. But when she looks at you, it’s there. Also, when Hamish kissed her, she pushed him away.”
What? He jerked up; pain screamed through him. Probably because of his wound. Or not. “Hamish kissed her?”
“Aye.”
“When?”
“Ages ago.”
And then, “You were watching?”
“I’m always watching.”
Oh, good lord. That was a warning if there ever was one. Disquiet trickled through him. “What … else have you seen?”
She tipped her head to the side. “Is there anything else? Other than kissing?”
“No.” One word. Hard and fast. Just … no.
Isobel put out a lip, as though she didn’t believe him.
Heaven help him. Heaven help them all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Susana woke to find Andrew awake and talking softly with Isobel. The sight warmed her heart. Not just because he was awake, but because she very much delighted in the sight of their heads so close together. That, and the expression of complete adoration in his eyes.
He would be an excellent father. If he chose to accept her proposal.
And aye, over the past few days, she’d come to the blinding realization that the past was the past. She needed him, wanted him in her life forever.
And Isobel did need a father. She was far too undisciplined. Andrew would be just the influence she required.
But if she was being honest, it wasn’t Isobel’s desires that drove her, it was her own.
She watched the two whisper away, in some intense and earnest conversation that she wasn’t a part of, and she wanted to laugh and sing. They had come through this, all of them, whole.
They would have their second chance.
Andrew glanced at her and stalled mid-whisper. His Adam’s apple worked. “Susana,” he said in a rough voice. “You’re awake.”
Isobel sprang away and sent her a guilt-ridden frown.
Oh, lord. What had those two been plotting? She could only imagine.
He held out his hand to her and she rose and took it, gloried in the fact that it was warm and vibrant. “How are you holding up?” he asked and she nearly snorted. She hadn’t been shot.
“I’m fine. How do you feel?”
His grin was entrancing. “As well as can be expected.” His thumb traced her skin, sending a shiver rippling over her nerve endings.
“Isobel,” she said softly. “Will you go tell Hamish that Andrew is awake? He needs food and water, too. Can you see to that?”
Isobel frowned. “I doona want to leave. You go.”
Annoyance riffled through her, but before she could repeat her command, Andrew set his hand to Isobel’s shoulder. “I am verra hungry. And … your mother and I need to talk.” This he said in a meaningful tone with a speaking look.
Isobel’s expression tightened, then she nodded with a sigh. “All right. But I’ll be back.”
She edged off the bed and to the door. Before she left she shook her finger at them and said, in a warning tone, “You two behave.”
Once they were alone, Susana suddenly didn’t know what to say. She had no idea why tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m glad you are all right,” she said, though the words hardly did justice to the emotions raging within her.
He tried to tug her down beside him, but she resisted. “Sit.” A command.
“I doona want to hurt you.”
His eyes glimmered. “You could never hurt me. And we do need to talk.”
Aye. They did. She sat gingerly at his side, trying very hard not to jostle him. She was aware of his attention on her face; it burned her. There was so much to be said, but she didn’t know where to start.
“Susana,” he said.
“Andrew.”
“I need a kiss.” He put out a lip. “I’ve had a bad week.”
“Nothing compared with mine,” she said, “I assure you.” But she leaned in and kissed him tenderly. His scent filled her. His taste inflamed her. She fisted her fingers in the covers to hold back, to keep from sinking in. She’d missed this so. Needed this so. She’d despaired she would never know this bliss again. “God,” she huffed, pulling away and setting her forehead on his chest. She was careful to avoid his wound. She loved that his arm came around her, holding her close.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
“You were unconscious.” A warble.
“My dreams were lonely. Susana … There’s something I need to ask you.”
Her stomach tightened. He’d realized the truth about Isobel. She knew it in her heart. Nae. Nae. She couldn’t allow him to ask. She owed him the courtesy of telling him first. She sat up and put a finger to his lips. “Before you do, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“But—”
“Please, Andrew. Let me tell you.”
He fixed his gaze on her and nodded.
Ah, lord. Where to begin?
“I was verra young and foolish when I was in Perth.”
“It wasna so verra long ago…”
She frowned at him. “Nevertheless, I was young and foolish and verra much in love.” His lashes flickered at that, but she continued on. There was much to tell and she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted. “When I saw you kissing Kirstie, I shouldna have run.”
“I dinna kiss Kirstie Gunn.”
She stilled. “I saw you.”
“She kissed me. I was horrified when you saw that. I knew you’d thought … I tried to find you. Tried to explain, but Kirstie said you dinna want to see me.”
She blew out a breath. “I dinna.” That, at least, was true. She had refused to see him.
“And then you left.” There was a woebegone thread in his tone at that. “You were gone. Really gone. Forever, gone.”
She sighed. “Kirstie and I were friends. Or I thought we were. After I saw you in the woods, she told me you and she…”
“Aye?”
“That you were lovers. That the two of you were laughing about what a fool I’d made of myself over you—”
His face went red. “That was a lie.”
“I realize that now.” She forced a smile. “Did I mention how naive I was back then? Far too gullible.” She swallowed. “Who told you Mairi died?”
“Kirstie.”
Though somehow she already knew the answer, confirmation made rage walk through her. She clenched her fists. “Kirstie was a liar.”
“She lied to both of us, Susana.”
She had. And oh, how it had cost them.
But it wasn’t too late.
“Andrew … There’s something else.”
“Aye?”
“On my way back home I realized…”
“Aye?”
She swallowed and looked away. She couldn’t bear to see his face. But he tipped her gaze back to him and waited patiently. Tension hummed between them. “I realized I was with child.” Though she whispered, he heard.
“I
sobel?”
Susana nodded. “She’s your daughter.”
He smiled. It was tender and sweet. “I know.”
Cold prickles crawled over her skin, and then they turned uncomfortably warm. “I thought you might have figured it out. I … How do you feel about it?”
“I love her verra much.” He touched his chest. “I love her so much it hurts.”
Ah, she knew the feeling.
“She adores you, too.”
“Susana … You realize I canna leave Dounreay. Not knowing I have a daughter here. Not having found you again.”
Her heart thudded. “Do you … Are we … Can we…”
Ach! Frustration racked her. Why could she not just ask?
He tipped his head to the side. “Can we start again?”
Aye! That was it. “Would you … like to?”
“I would like to verra much. I never stopped loving you, Susana.”
“Nor I, you.”
He stared at her, his eyes alight and glistening with something that might have been tears. His lips parted, as though to respond, but no words came out. She knew. She knew the feeling. No words were necessary, just this glorious welling connection between them.
She couldn’t help it. She had to kiss him. His wound be damned. When the kiss ended, he continued.
“I know I’m not perfect. I know I’m a tad too arrogant—”
“A tad?”
“And I know I have much to learn about being a father. But, Susana, I would verra much like to … woo you.”
“Woo me?”
“Isobel suggested I kidnap you and take you to the island in the loch.”
“Is that what you two were conspiring about?”
“That and other things.” He frowned. “Did you really kiss Hamish?”
“Hamish kissed me.”
He issued a snort.
She couldn’t resist teasing him, just a bit more. Her lips tweaked. “Hamish is verra handsome. It was a nice kiss.”
“Nice?”
She shrugged. “But not as nice as kissing you.”
“I am gratified to hear it.” His arms came around her in a possessive manner. She quite liked it.
“Did you really kiss Lana?”
He went pink to his ears. His lips flapped. His expression was so amusing, she laughed, although it wasn’t funny in the slightest. But his chagrin was so pained, she decided to show him mercy.
