by Paula Quinn
They both turned to Lily standing in the doorway with her brother behind her.
“I told her to stay with Ruth, Laird,” Will said, looking worried. “She wouldna listen.”
“’Tis all right,” Lachlan told him, watching Mailie go to her.
“’Twas yer wish that I could be yer mother?”
“Aye, and I dinna care if I spoke it. The laird will—” She stopped speaking and her mouth dropped open as her eyes took in Annabel’s room.
“Whose room is this?” she asked, stepping inside, bringing breath and life with her.
Lachlan inhaled deeply. “’Tis my daughter Annabel’s chamber.”
Lily stopped at the dollhouse and turned to look at him. “Did she no’ die?”
“I have recently discovered that she might be alive.”
Lily didn’t respond but cast a longing look at the dollhouse before moving on. “What are those?” Her feet hurried to the shelves where a dozen cloth dolls sat, long forgotten.
“Those are dolls, my love,” Mailie told her. “Dinna tell me ye’ve never had one.”
Lily shook her head and then gasped, moving on to a small chair with a special doll sitting in it. Made of plaster, the doll had a painted face and a fashionable French hairstyle made from fine wool. That is, it was fashionable when Lachlan had purchased it for Annabel the year she was born from a merchant traveling from France. The dolls were not meant as toys but to display to the general public the latest fashions from France or Italy. The apparel was finely constructed with linings, pockets, petticoats, and boned stays.
“What’s her name?”
Lachlan shook his head. “She doesna have a name.”
“No name?” Lily echoed, her eyes poring over the doll. “Can her name be Lily?”
He smiled at her. “But yer name is Lily.”
“Aye.” She dipped her chin to her chest and stepped away, glancing at the doll from the corner of her eye. “She’s no’ mine anyway.”
“Poor, wee doll,” Lachlan said. “No name and no one to love her.”
Lily spun around. “I would love her!” She ran back to the doll and was about to scoop it up when she stopped and turned to Lachlan. “But she’s Annabel’s.”
“I’m certain Annabel would want ye to have her.”
Lily grinned, then ran to him to hug his legs. Before he could respond, she took off again and lifted the doll carefully in her hands and brought it to her chest.
Lachlan watched her introduce “Lily” the doll to Ettarre. He smiled and caught Mailie’s eye. This felt good. This felt right. He wanted this family, complete with a dog. Every moment he spent with them made him feel more alive, more able to stop running and face what he needed to face. Mailie had given him strength for it and made him hungry for more. Hungry for more of her. Did she want to share this life with him? Was he being too presumptuous in thinking she’d want to stay with him, become his wife? Could she love him despite his lacking the qualities of Malory’s knights? He could make her happy. He could make Will and Lily happy, and the reward would be his own happiness. It might not be quiet, but it would be peaceful. He knew he was mad. It came as no surprise. It still scared the hell out of him. He was afraid to completely let go of what was left of him. If he did, there was no coming back. He’d go through the MacGregors if he had to.
One by one.
It was a glorious afternoon, Mailie thought, walking through a windswept vale on the other side of the glens with Lily and Ettarre. Spring heather burst through the melting snow and fragranced the air. She almost wished Lachlan were here to see Lily traipsing through the heather, the sun in her hair, her doll in her arms, and a smile on her face. But after lunch he’d taken Will with him to the bay for some fishing.
Ruth had insisted on staying to tidy up while they were all out. Mailie was grateful, but beginning tomorrow Will and Lily were going to clean up after themselves. And there were chores to be done. She’d ask Lachlan what they were and assign them fairly.
She thought about him while she picked heather. He’d taken her to Annabel’s room, let her inside that part of his life, his heart. She hadn’t thought she could love him any more than she did, but watching him breathe in his daughter’s chamber, seeing the strength in his shoulders, his expression as he faced the past and let go of it, filled her heart to bursting. He was strong and he loved with all his heart.
He’d said he’d already decided on a better plan involving Sinclair. He hadn’t yet told her what it was. He’d decided not to hand her over. She should be overjoyed. She was. It proved that Lachlan was better than any knight. He made her want to give up everything for him.
Anything but him.
But nothing changed. Annabel was still lost.
If Lachlan wasn’t bringing her to Sinclair, then what was his plan to find his daughter? He had done all this for Annabel. She couldn’t let him give her up, or delay his search further.
She had to pen a letter to her father and get it to him before he found them on his own. She would tell him about Lachlan’s true character and about his daughter. She would not tell him where she was and put the people of Avoch in jeopardy. She’d beg him to forgive Lachlan for all the trouble and worry he’d caused, and try to enlist his help in finding Annabel.
Encouraged by her plan to stop Lachlan’s demise, she decided the day was too glorious to waste it on worrying. With Lily’s help, she picked three more bundles of heather. She set them down with the rest of what she’d collected at the base of a wide rock about four feet high. It was the perfect place to rest before returning to the castle. The hill at their backs shielded them from most of the wind. She helped Lily climb up the rock, then sat behind her and pulled her arisaid around the gel to keep out the chill. Ettarre made it up on her long legs and settled down beside them.
While they shared an apple, enjoying the call of birds overhead between the peaceful silence, Mailie thought about how fortunate she was to have found a child like Lily. The babe’s wish resounded in her heart, breaking every barrier. Aye, she would be Lily’s mother, and Will’s too if he wanted her.
“He isna sendin’ me to Ranald,” she said softly against Lily’s ear. “Thank ye fer yer help with that.”
Lily turned to cast her a happy grin but it faded soon after. “I was thinkin’ aboot that. What aboot his wish? I know what it is now,” she announced before Mailie could reply. “’Tis fer Annabel to be alive, aye?”
“Most likely, aye.”
Lily turned forward again and leaned her back against Mailie’s chest. “I didna mean to stop him from gettin’ his wish by speakin’ of it.” She pouted. “But now that I know what ’twas, I’m glad I ruined it.”
“Lily,” Mailie said, not surprised or disheartened by Lily’s declaration. She was six, with plenty of time to learn the value of sometimes putting others first. “Ye didna ruin anything. If Annabel is alive, he will find her, and if he does, he will be verra happy. But his feelin’s fer ye and yer brother willna change.”
“How d’ye know?”
“I know because ye’ve entered his heart. Can ye no’ feel it?”
Lily nodded and hugged her doll closer to her. “Aye.”
“I dinna think he lets many enter. Do ye?” When Lily shook her head no, Mailie continued. “He willna let ye go. I know it because he’s fair and kind. He’s—”
Lily turned to her again, her smile intact. “A certain kind of man?”
Mailie laughed, remembering what she had told the children about the man she would marry. “Aye, my love, he is most definitely a certain kind of man.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mailie had grown up picking heather and getting it back to Camlochlin without losing a single blossom. She carried five bundles now, most of it in her arms and the rest fastened to her back with her arisaid.
When she passed the yard with Lily, she saw a bundle of herring hanging from a pole near the shed. Angling went well, then, but they were back sooner than she’d expect
ed. She’d hoped to fill all the vases and spread the heather around the castle before they returned.
Lily ran by her and entered the castle first, with Ettarre at her heels. “Greetings, Laird!” she heard Lily call out.
Mailie’s heart fluttered at the thought of seeing him again. She waited a moment to slow her breath but it was no use. She gave her hair a pat and stepped inside as Lachlan was making his way down the stairs. With all the halls and the curved staircase lit by sunshine and candlelight, she had a better view of his wide, brawny shoulders, his indomitable jaw, and his gaze that gleamed when he saw her.
He stopped with a few stairs to go when he realized what she was carrying in front and in back of her. The glimmer faded a wee bit.
It made her grin. It made her heart want to claw its way out of her flesh and leap for him. He wasn’t used to all this. She’d changed the poor man’s whole life, including his home. She’d pulled him, with him resisting every step of the way—resisting still—back to the present. She knew the dragon was strong, but Lachlan was stronger. And he fought it for her.
“That’s a lot of heather, Mailie.”
“’Tis a big castle, my lord,” she replied, hoping that he saw in her eyes everything she felt for him. “Some life will do it good.”
Whatever tried to pull him back broke away as he descended the rest of the stairs and came toward her. His eyes on her were warm and filled with the promise and the hope of something new. “It already has.”
She wondered how she could have ever thought him a beast.
He moved forward as if to kiss her, then backed away from the heather between them. “Let me help ye with that.” He reached for the bundle and took it from her arms.
“Did ye smell it?” she asked him, moving on toward the kitchen.
“I canna help but smell it. ’Tis fragrant.” He bent to her and inhaled her neck. “It smells better on ye.”
At his nearness, the hairs on her nape stood to attention. She wanted him closer, to cover her the way the scent of the heather did.
When they entered the kitchen, she noticed right away that there was another chair at the table and the settee was gone. There was also a group of about ten vases stacked against the wall.
“Where’s the settee?” she asked him, untying herself from her arisaid and the heather.
“In the study,” he told her, setting his bundle down on the table and then reaching for the rest.
“Will and I moved a few things oot of the storage rooms abovestairs. I brought doun a chair fer Ruth.”
“That was thoughtful of ye. And ye put the settee in yer private study why again?”
“’Twill be more comfortable when ye read to the children. And…ehm…all the books are right there fer ye.”
She went to him, unable to stay away another moment. When she reached him, she lifted a finger to a stray lock of hair that had fallen over his brow.
“Ye’re verra sweet.”
“Sweet?” he laughed. “There’s a word I’ve never heard to describe me.”
She thought him breathtaking whether brooding or cold as stone. But she wanted to see him laugh more often. She wanted to be the one who made him do it. She stepped into his arms and felt sane again when his hands encircled her waist.
“Get used to it.” She touched her fingers to his lips and looked into his eyes. Oh, she was lost. She loved him. She wasn’t falling. She had already hit the ground hard. “Lachlan, I want—”
She closed her eyes and smiled at the sounds of the children and the adult-sized hound thundering down the stairs.
“Aye,” he promised, bringing her fingers back to his lips for a kiss. “Whatever ye want, the answer is aye.”
“Mailie, come look! Come look!” Lily plunged into the kitchen out of breath, with Ettarre at her side and Will right behind her.
Mailie did as Lily bid her, breaking from his hands and turning to look at him as she left the kitchen.
“Mailie, look what I found in the storerooms.” Will stepped beside her as she followed Lily and Ettarre up the stairs. He handed her a wooden cup with a string attached to a small leather ball. “’Twas the laird’s when he was a lad. He gave it to me.”
Mailie gave the offering her full attention and smiled. That was two childhood toys he’d given away today, Annabel’s and his. She’d hoped he’d come to care for the children. She’d told them he did. It had been a gamble, but she had faith in her dragon. “My brother Patrick had one,” she told Will. “He was quite good with it. Have ye been practicin’?”
“Aye, watch!” He took the ball and swung it upward, then caught it in the cup. His wide grin sliced across her heart. She had to protect his heart from her kin.
“Well done!” she cheered. “Ye are a quick learner and will be a great help to yer laird.”
Will looked behind them. Mailie did too. Lachlan was not there. “He fancies ye, Mailie.”
She stopped and tugged on his léine. “What?”
“I asked him if he would consider ye fer a wife, and he said aye.” His grin grew wider than the one before it. “Me and Lily dinna want our new parents to live in different places.”
“We want us all to live together,” Lily agreed from a few steps up, smiling at her.
They melted Mailie’s heart over and over again. She wanted that too. But where would they live? She didn’t want to leave Camlochlin, but this was Lachlan’s childhood home. The villagers depended on him.
“Will ye be his wife, then?” Will asked.
She laughed softly. “Let’s think aboot it if or when he asks.”
Would he ask? Would she say aye?
“Mailie said he is a certain kind of man,” Lily informed her brother with a satisfied nod.
“All right, then, come now.” Mailie shooed them upward. “Show me what ye wanted me to see. I’ve nae time fer yer silly antics.” She tickled Will under his chin and he laughed and hurried away. She chased Lily next and they all ran laughing up the rest of the stairs.
She noted that Lachlan had hung some paintings in the halls and set a half dozen well-made chairs along the walls. It was a start. It was beginning to look more lived in, more inviting.
She followed them to a room, fourth door on the right. It was smaller than Annabel’s, with walls paneled in the same polished wood. There was a wooden bedstead draped in matching curtains and linens set against the center of the wall. A dozen of Annabel’s dolls rested against a small mountain of pillows. The frame and canopy were carved in floral and spiral etchings. A chest of drawers carved in the same design was close by, along with a chair by the roaring hearth. He’d brought down another cushioned settee, this one low-backed and upholstered in blue linen, and placed it by the window.
“The laird said Lily can have this room when she’s ready to sleep alone,” Will told her. “And this one will be mine.”
He brought her to another room opposite his sister’s. She stepped inside and inspected his bed, much like Lily’s. There was a large chest placed at the foot, and chairs and a small table. “He said we could go into the storerooms and see if there’s anything else we want to bring doun.”
This was permanent. He wanted this, Mailie thought and bit down on her tongue to keep from crying in front of the children. She wanted this too. Here, in his castle with his bairns. She would pray her father would forgive her. She would never cease being sorry for what she put him through, but she wouldn’t leave Lachlan.
“I think they both look quite splendid right now.”
She heard Lachlan’s footsteps in the hall and stepped out of the room to see him. “Everything looks verra nice,” she breathed, feeling a little flush.
He came to stop before her, bringing the fragrant scent of heather with him. “The lad mentioned havin’ a room of his own, so I just moved some things here and there.”
Just moved some things? She felt like giggling—God, help her. All of this because Will mentioned having his own room? What would he do if she mentione
d sharing a bed with him? She didn’t know when she’d become so bold. No man had ever made her feel the way Lachlan did. She wanted to touch him, taste him, tame him beneath her, and then let him try taming her. She smiled at him as if she didn’t care what a scandalous wench she’d become.
And in truth, she didn’t care. She loved this big, beautiful man, even with his faults. “Will tells me that ye would consider me fer a wife.”
She managed to resist smiling while he cringed before her. She was glad William wasn’t in the hall to see the stunned disbelief and denial vying for preeminence over his laird’s features. Mailie almost felt sorry for the oaf. He was skilled in hunting and combat, he could carve wood with a master’s hand, and kiss like a beast that meant to ravage her soul. But when it came to more delicate things, like complimenting her in the morning, or dressing a child in her cloak, he seemed less sure of himself.
She held up her hand to put an end to his suffering. She knew a perfect way to help him with delicate things. “Wait here.”
She went back inside the room and asked the children to follow her into the playroom. She sat them at the table and was happy, but not surprised, to see a small stack of parchment waiting. She was surprised and delighted though at the jars of paint and brushes laid out beside it.
“Hannah used to paint,” Lachlan told her when she smiled at him entering the room. “I had it in the storerooms.” He paused to smile back when she said storerooms at the same time.
“How big are these storerooms?” she laughed. It seemed as if his entire life was up there. She wanted to go up and look around.
“Well, this is certainly better than coal.” She handed each child a sheet of parchment and a paintbrush. “I wish to speak with Lachlan dounstairs alone.”
Lily looked up from a jar of blue paint and cast her a furtive smile. “Are ye goin’ to tell him that he’s a certain kind of man?”
Mailie felt her face go up in flames. She loved Lily. Lily was six, she reminded herself. Lily wanted them all to live together. “Mayhap, dearest,” she said, managing a smile. “If ye’ll stay here with yer brother and paint something to hang on the walls, aye?”
