by Laura Glenn
Leah nodded and reached for it, throwing Anna a grateful look. Anna smiled before leaving them alone to finish their meal in a comfortable silence. As soon as Leah drained the water in her goblet, Rathe stood and offered her his hand.
He picked up the package of herbs as she stood. “I will secure this in your satchel.”
She nodded, silencing the shame that arose. She was only protecting her chances of going home, after all. She had nothing to feel guilty about.
But then he slipped her hand into his and squeezed it, sending a pleasing chill of delight through her skin, before leading her toward the door. Remorse wormed its way back into her. Her eyes turned watery and she swiped at them with the back of her hand before he had the chance to turn around and see something was wrong.
Rathe’s men were ready and waiting in the courtyard when Leah and Rathe exited the keep. Rathe tousled Alec’s hair and chucked Isabella under the chin before he and Galen clasped each other’s forearms, speaking in low tones in Gaelic.
Anna pulled Leah into her arms and gave her a warm hug. “It was wonderful meeting you, Leah. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to know someone like me is nearby. You must come visit. Please? It will be a while before I can go anywhere.”
Leah laughed and nodded. “I will. Thank you for all you’ve done. I don’t think I could ever repay you.”
Anna pulled back and looked her in the eye. “Just give him a chance,” she whispered. “Not just for his sake, but yours too. Regret is a bitch.”
Leah gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll think about it.”
Anna released her and placed a small ceramic pot into her hand. “Here. Some honey salve for your and Rathe’s stitches. Make sure you clean and re-bandage his arm tonight. If it starts to feel hot or reddens, send word to me. Infections are not something to mess with, especially here.”
Leah nodded. A heavy, folded-up piece of paper shifted beneath the container.
Anna placed her hand over the pot and raised her brows. “The recipe,” she whispered. “I’ve not met anyone here who can read English, so you should be safe if you’re discovered with it. But you should commit it to memory and burn it at the earliest chance, just in case.”
A hand slid across Leah’s lower back and she jumped.
“Ready, love?” Rathe murmured into her ear.
His breath heated her skin, sending a shiver down her spine to clash with the unwelcome guilt still plaguing her. She nodded and gave Anna’s hand a squeeze just as something nudged her head from behind.
She turned to find Bran bowing his head before her. He nuzzled her hand and she laughed in delighted surprise, scratching him under the chin.
Rathe chuckled in her ear. “I have competition for your attentions now, eh?”
She gave him a brief sideways glance, a shy smile playing across her lips as she turned her gaze back to Bran. Resisting the urge to berate herself once again for no flirty comebacks, she relaxed into her silence and swayed toward Rathe until her shoulder hit his chest.
He tucked her hair behind her ear and bent to place a quick kiss at the corner of her mouth before assisting her up onto Bran’s back. He handed her the reins and then crooked his finger at her, motioning her to lean down toward him.
Thinking he wanted to tell her something, she gave him her ear. But then he grabbed her jaw and turned her until her mouth pressed into his. Undemanding, slow and drugging, the comfort and warmth of his lips buzzed through her skin. Whoops and laughter arose from the men around them, sending the heat of her blood to her cheeks.
Rathe pulled away, an arrogant grin plastered to his face. He threw her a seductive wink before swaggering over to his own horse. In one, graceful movement, he settled himself into the saddle and guided his steed over to her.
She dared a peek at Anna and Galen. Anna had crossed her arms and now sported an I-told-you-so smirk. Galen, who’d been as unreadable as a rock ever since Leah met him the day before, remained just as stone-faced as ever. Leah tore her gaze back to Bran’s mane, failing at all attempts to keep a smile from forming on her lips.
Rathe patted her thigh, gaining her attention. “Time to go home, lass.”
Chapter Seventeen
Home.
Leah trailed her gaze up from the base of the dark, formidable stone keep up to the roofline. The dying light of the day cast imposing, cold shadows across the structure’s surface. Increasing numbers of eyes weighed upon her. Her stomach churned. Oh God, what had she gotten herself into?
With a gentle tug, Rathe pulled Bran’s reins out of her grasp and handed them to a young man off to the side. He pulled her hand up to his lips and pressed a light kiss into the backs of her fingers.
One word fell in a whisper from his lips. “Finally.”
The air left her lungs in a rush, her head spiraling with strange, barely connected thoughts. Swords. Blood. Faceless children. Hot tea.
She was supposed to spend her life here?
“Dadaidh!” came a small voice from somewhere in the crowd.
And all at once the thoughts stilled, her vision focusing on a small girl of about five years of age in a blue shift dress running toward them as fast as her little legs would carry her. Her black curls bounced in wild abandon around her cherubic face.
Rathe released Leah’s hand and caught the girl, who leapt up at him without any obvious fear she might not be saved from falling to the ground. He swung her up into the air and she giggled until she was secured in his arms.
Dadaidh? Daddy.
Daddy.
Leah had heard that right, hadn’t she? She caught the little girl’s eyes as she laid her head upon Rathe’s shoulder. She smiled at Leah, her green eyes twinkling with pleasure.
Leah smiled back, attempting the most placid facial expression she could muster. There was no mistaking the relationship between the two. Hair color, eye color, smile. Only the girl’s features were more delicate, her skin paler than her father’s.
Her father. Why had Rathe not mentioned this? With all of the talk about him needing a son, it hadn’t entered Leah’s mind that he could be a father already.
Damn it, Rathe.
He didn’t talk about himself unless she asked him a question and she didn’t ask many questions of anyone, preferring not to pry. In truth, they’d spent little time alone together except when they were having sex. Even if she’d gotten over her fear of prying, there were always people around them and little opportunity for her to satisfy her curiosity about the man holding her in a strange sexual enthrallment from which she had no desire to escape.
Rathe kissed the top of the child’s head and said something in Gaelic. The girl nodded and slid to the ground, turning her large eyes up to Leah.
She curtseyed in front of Leah. “Halò.”
Leah repeated the greeting and there was a pause as the two stared at one another.
Rathe crouched down next to the girl and spoke, looking up at Leah as he finished. Any useful understanding of the Gaelic language, though now familiar to her ears, still eluded her. She could only pick up words and phrases here and there and only if the speaker slowed his or her elocution. But one word he’d spoken stuck in her head. She’d heard it before, but it didn’t hit her until the girl’s face lit up as Leah repeated it.
“Mamaidh?”
Mommy.
Oh. Shit.
Rathe stood and tilted his face as he studied Leah. “This is my—”
“Daughter,” Leah breathlessly stated, her heart fluttering. “Your daughter. I—”
“She is called Màiri.”
“You have a daughter.”
He nodded, drawing a hand down Leah’s back until it rested on her waist. “I did not tell you. I should have.”
The warmth of his touch soothed her, drawing some of the tension from her body. A soft, little hand slipped into hers. Màiri gazed up at her in open curiosity.
“Tha thu brèagha.” She smiled, her lids fluttering up at Leah and melting h
er heart.
“Gu dearbh,” he replied, giving Leah’s waist a gentle squeeze. “She called you beautiful. And she is right.” He leaned in and placed a kiss on Leah’s temple.
Leah’s lips parted but no words came out. A tumult of thoughts and emotions whirled through her. This was getting complicated. It was one thing to contemplate leaving Rathe, as gut-wrenching as it might be, in one year’s time if it meant a safe, comfortable life in the twenty-first century. But now there was a child holding her hand. A child who had just called her “Mommy”.
A chubby blond toddler in a brown shift made his way out of the crowd and slipped his hand into Màiri’s. He sucked on the fingers of his other hand and lifted wide, nutmeg-colored eyes up to Leah and Rathe.
Rathe gave the boy a warm smile and tousled his hair as he spoke in a gentle tone to him. The boy grinned around his fingers.
Now Leah was confused. Hadn’t Rathe told her he needed a son? If so, who was this child?
“My last wife’s son, Daniel,” he murmured into her ear as though reading her thoughts.
“How do you know he’s not yours?” she creaked out in a whisper.
His finger traced her spine, sending shivers along in its wake. “I was in France for over a year. He was born two weeks before I arrived home.”
She opened her mouth, spurred to question him further. To demand he sit down with her and answer everything about which she was curious. But men approached him and spoke, their voices tinged with apprehension, right after they gave Leah a respectful bow.
Rathe’s hand dropped from her back as he turned his attention to the men, firing questions at them. She glanced down at the children, amazed at their dutiful patience as the adults conversed.
“Leah,” Rathe said, turning to her, “Get the children fed and tucked in. I may be a while.”
Panicked, she grabbed his hand. “What? Why? What’s going on?”
He shook his head, a grave shadow overtaking his features. “I do not yet know. Do not worry, love.” He kissed her head and took a step away.
In a flash of boldness, Leah pulled him back. His brows arched in surprise as he stared down his nose at her.
She took a deep breath, attempting to gather her scattered thoughts. “I don’t know what I am doing. I-I don’t know where the food is or what they like. I don’t know where they sleep. What if they don’t want to eat? What if—”
He shook his head and sighed. “Calm down, lass. The servants know. They will guide you.”
Irritation surged through her. It was all very simple in his orderly, structured world where everyone did his bidding all of the time, wasn’t it? “But I don’t speak Gaelic or have you not noticed that fact?” she hissed, her brow furrowing.
He chuckled and cupped her face in his hand. The pad of his thumb smoothed the worry from her brow. “It will all be well. You will see.” He looked down at Màiri and spoke in Gaelic.
She gave him a dutiful nod and tugged on Leah’s hand as he called to someone in the crowd.
A rounded, matronly woman came forward with two younger women at her heels. All three smiled at Leah and curtsied before motioning her to follow them.
Rathe gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze and released it. “I will not be gone overly long.”
He walked away and was soon engulfed by a crowd of men as they moved toward the opposite side of the courtyard.
Màiri gave Leah’s hand another tug and the little boy started fussing. Màiri heaved a dramatic sigh.
He released her hand and tumbled toward Leah, raising his arms. Leah grabbed him before he could fall face-first into the dirt and swooped him up to settle him on one hip. He wrapped one chubby arm around her neck and laid his head on her shoulder, stuffing his fingers into his mouth once again.
Màiri took Leah’s hand again and they started off after the three women who were making their way into the keep. True to Rathe’s word, the women settled Leah with the children at a wooden table in the middle of the kitchen and ladled a brothy soup with bits of root vegetables and meat into wooden bowels. Daniel cozied up on Leah’s lap, uninterested in sitting on the bench on his own or in feeding himself. Màiri scooted in next to Leah, chattering away.
The older woman approached her, holding a spoon. She patted her chest and said, “Mòrag.”
Leah smiled, placing her hand on her chest and saying her own name.
The woman beamed and nodded, dipping the spoon into the soup and bringing it to Daniel’s lips. The boy took his fingers out of his mouth, revealing a sweet little cleft in his chin, and accepted the bite. Mòrag then handed Leah the spoon and motioned toward Daniel with a tilt of her head.
Leah adjusted the boy on her lap and continued the feeding. Màiri patted Leah’s arm and pointed to her bowl.
“Sùgh.”
Leah paused in midair with another bite for Daniel. She nodded and smiled.
“Sùgh,” Màiri said once again, her eyes widening in expectation.
Daniel fussed and Leah hurried to give him the bite of soup before turning back to the little girl. “Sùgh?” she repeated in a slow, deliberate tone.
Màiri’s face brightened as she nodded. Then she held up her spoon. “Spàin.”
Leah smiled and laughed. The girl was trying to teach her Gaelic. Rathe had probably given her instructions to do so as they stood in the courtyard. She repeated the word, much to the little girl’s pleasure.
The language lesson lasted throughout the meal. Màiri finished her soup well before Daniel and ran around the kitchen naming everything from the floor to the herbs suspended upside down as they dried from the rafters in the ceiling. The women laughed and assisted her in finding objects to bring to Leah and name.
Overwhelmed, Leah was grateful when the women indicated it was time to move on from the kitchen. Màiri continued to point out things as they walked down darkened corridors and then up two flights of stairs. It wasn’t until they’d entered a tiny chamber with a small bed and a fire crackling in the hearth Leah understood what was happening.
Mòrag poured water from a pitcher into a bowl as the two younger women pulled the shifts over the children’s heads. Then she turned down the bed while the children’s hands, faces, and feet were scrubbed clean. Mòrag handed a brush and ribbon to Leah and motioned toward Màiri.
Leah sat on the bed and the little girl ran over, throwing herself onto the mattress next to her and then crawling into her lap. Leah was very gentle as she brushed out the girl’s hair, remembering all too well her mother’s impatient strokes as she had brushed Leah’s hair before school. Assuming the ribbon was meant to secure Màiri’s hair, Leah wove the locks into a braid and tied the ribbon in a bow at the end. Màiri turned and threw her arms around Leah’s neck, giving her a big squeeze.
Leah hesitated, surprised by the sudden sentiment. But then the ease with which the little girl poured out her affection dismantled Leah’s natural guard and she slipped her arms around the child, hugging her close.
Satisfied, Màiri gave her a peck on the cheek and pulled away. “Oidhche mhath leibh.” Then she smiled and added, “Mamaidh,” before crawling into the middle of the bed.
Good night. Mommy.
Shit. Was she ready for this? Instant motherhood?
Daniel tugged at her skirts and she lifted him up, settling him next to Màiri, before pulling the covers up over both of them. On instinct, she leaned over and kissed them both on the forehead, pausing between children as the shock over the strange naturalness of the motion washed over her.
As she stood and turned, she was met with the smiles of all three women standing behind her. Mòrag sighed, her hand over her heart and nodded, motioning for Leah to follow her again.
Leah fell into step behind her. The rustling of someone behind her drew her gaze over her shoulder as they stepped into the hallway. One of the younger women had followed along and was closing the door behind them. She caught a glimpse of the other young woman tucking the covers around the c
hildren and smiling at them just before the door shut.
Leah followed in silence as they padded down the corridor to a different set of stairs. This one was wider and more centrally located in the keep. Masculine voices carried up the stairs as the women descended.
Passing through an archway, she saw an expansive room spread out before her. A fireplace large enough for a man to stand in graced one side of the room and three long, wooden tables with benches took up most of the middle. The center table had one chair at the end of it, in which Rathe sat with his back to the fire and facing the large door that served as the main entrance to the keep from the outside. Brodie and Ros sat on benches to either side of him.
Rathe turned as the women made the final descent down the last set of stairs. He smiled and stood along with Brodie and Ros.
As she caught his gaze, a weariness passed over his features. It surprised her. He’d always been so energetic and full of life. Almost as if he were superhuman. Had something happened?
Or was it his arm? Had the cut become infected? She bit her lower lip, her gaze sweeping up and down his form for any clue.
He kissed her cheek as she approached and pulled back, his brow furrowing. “Is everything all right, lass?”
She nodded. “You?”
“Of course.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
He shrugged, shaking his head in seeming bewilderment. “Like what?”
Her gaze drifted to his arm. “Just, you know, tired. Does your arm feel okay? Any pain?”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “I promise, you will be the first to know if my arm needs tending. Is a man not allowed to be tired in his own home after several days of rather eventful travel?”
Soft chuckles escaped from both Brodie and Ros, driving her to keep her apologetic response quiet.
Brodie stepped forward. “It is time for us to take our leave.” He bowed his head before Leah. “Welcome home, Lady Sinclair.”
