Page 13

“ T he Laird and his men like to have their meals at regular times, and yer job is to ensure that happens as well as running the castle and ensuring that we dinnae starve in winter,” Missus Norah went on, as she had since their morning lesson began.

“The Laird and I have seen to this, but now that ye are here, ye’re expected to relieve him of this burden. ”

Who will relieve me of mine?

Mabel hadn’t expected to start her lessons so soon or to be educated by the woman who had had a judgmental look on her face ever since she had slept in. To think she had assumed her days would be spent caring for the bairns only…

She suppressed a sigh before the housekeeper could notice and tell her again that it was unbecoming of a lady to sigh.

She had hoped the incident with the bairns was only because she was still an outsider, but Missus Norah had made it clear that it would be a while before she earned her trust.

Not that Mabel could blame the woman.

The lessons had only shown her the many ways she was lacking, and while she hoped to learn, she dreaded that she wouldn’t be able to learn as soon as she needed to.

She hadn’t needed to help with the running of MacLennan Castle, as her mother and Scarlett had seen to it rather effectively. She had received training, but with the Laird’s large household, it was almost insufficient.

She grew to appreciate his large household with the lectures, but she also started dreading it. She had agreed to marry the Laird because of the bairns, but she had forgotten the other responsibilities that came with being the lady of a clan.

She suspected it was her constant worry about the boys that had her unable to focus on her lessons, but it was to be expected.

She hadn’t been able to see them much at the wedding, and she worried that, now that her parents had left, there would be no one else able to efficiently care for them as they had.

“We will proceed to yer embroidery lessons, but ye shall wait here while I fetch the materials,” Missus Norah instructed.

Mabel’s heart soared with delight as the housekeeper scurried off, seeing her exit as an opportune moment to make her escape. She kept her steps light as she moved in the opposite direction, trying to find her way to the boys’ chambers.

When she stood outside the doors, she heaved a long sigh, putting her dismay at her failure in the day’s lesson behind her. She didn’t want to burden the boys with her grief.

Their matching smiles were a balm to her grieving heart, so she rushed to them, placing kisses on their hair.

“How are ye today?” she asked, elated.

She wished they would greet her more effusively, but she took their acceptance of her caresses as a win. She was overjoyed at the progress she was making with them.

They began to tell her about their day, and she was grateful to hear that they had eaten their meals. She wished they had more activities to fill their time with, but until she proved herself capable of running Muir Castle, she would not be able to begin their education.

“Yer name is familiar,” Ollie said finally.

“Me name?” she asked with a smile.

“Aye. Me ma told us about ye.”

They had said that before, but perhaps they wanted a better explanation as to how. She figured it would help them trust her better.

“Indeed? I am glad, then, because I am yer godmaither,” she explained. “I ken all about ye because yer maither told me about ye in her letters. I saw ye only once at yer baptism, but I havenae been able to visit ever since.”

She had hoped the news would cheer them up, but their mood plummeted at her casual mention of their mother. She bit her lip, inwardly chiding herself for her insensitivity, and tried to think up a way to cheer them up.

Suddenly, she bounced in her seat.

“How about we play a game?” she suggested. “Have ye been to the gardens?”

They shook their heads.

“Willnae the scary lady stop us again?”

“She cannae stop me, now that I’m married to the Laird,” she said with a cheeky smile.

They giggled mischievously and got to their feet, hurriedly putting on their shoes. She smiled and ruffled their hair, taking their hands.

She cast furtive glances around the corridors to ensure they weren’t caught, and as soon as they spotted the gardens, she pulled them into a small run, which caused them to giggle.

They had not lost their love for play, after all.

She smiled and led them into the shade of a fragrant orange tree.

“What game shall we play?” She tapped a finger on her chin, pretending to think. “Shall we play blindman’s buff?”

They nodded, and she produced a kerchief.

“Who wants to be first?”

They raised their hands excitedly, and she smiled.

“Ollie,” she picked, and he rushed forward.

They played a couple of rounds, and she began to grow exhausted from all the running, but the boys were the most excited she had seen them, and their laughter brought warmth to her heart.

“‘Tis yer turn, Aunt Mabel.”

“Mine? Nay, this game is for ye.”

“Are ye scared?” Ollie teased. “Dinnae be. I willnae let ye fall.”

She lifted a hand to her chest and laughed, nodding. “I will trust ye, then.”

Once the blindfold was on, she reached for the first small arm that she could reach. But when she heard their distant giggles, she smiled.

“Ye have gone too far, lads,” she teased. “Come a little closer.”

“Nay!” they cried, sounding so close.

She giggled again and reached out, only to feel something firm and warm against her hand.

She wondered if she had perhaps grabbed a tree trunk. She tried to feel her way, but a warm hand on hers stopped her exploration.

Had she been touching someone?

A hand yanked at her blindfold, but before her vision could clear, she opened her mouth, ready to spew an apology as well as a plea not to inform the Laird of the incident. However, when she saw it was none other than the Laird himself, she heaved a sigh of relief.

“Me Laird,” she breathed, her eyes darting around in search of the boys.

She spotted them a little way back, but gone was the mirth in their eyes and the smiles on their faces. It was enough to make the Laird frown.

She pitied him at that moment.

“‘Tis a good day to be outside,” she said, trying to fill the awkward silence.

“Aye. ‘Tis why I have come,” he answered. “‘Tis me turn to be the blindman.”

Mabel felt her heart stop and then pound furiously at his words, her mind painting a rather funny picture of the Laird running around blindfolded.

He smirked and then stepped back from her.

“Have I startled ye, lass?” he asked. “I do play games.”

“I… I… Nay, Me Laird,” she stammered.

“Come, lads,” he called. “Shall we play a few more rounds?”

The boys looked at each other, then at him, then at Mabel. She was about to nod in reassurance when a voice suddenly spoke from beside them.

“Me Laird, Me Lady,” Missus Norah greeted, cutting the mood as effectively as a knife through butter.

“Missus Norah,” the Laird returned. “Why have ye disturbed us?”

The housekeeper flushed briefly. “I was looking for Her Ladyship. I have been searching for her, since we didnae finish our lessons,” she answered with a pointed look. “‘Tis time to prepare the evening meal.”

Mabel lowered her eyes, not wanting to seem inadequate in the Laird’s eyes. It was one thing to be regarded lowly by the staff. But in front of her husband, whom she had assured she would fulfill her role, she couldn’t bear it.

Tears pooled in her eyes, but the feel of the Laird’s hand on her arm made her look up.

“Ye can handle the meal as ye always have,” he ordered with a frown. “I will be spending time with me wife this evening.”

“But Me Laird…”

The housekeeper’s protests died in her throat at the glare he shot her. Mabel wasn’t even at the receiving end of it, and she could already feel its heat.

Pride surged through her as he defended her against the woman, but she hid her smile until she could gloat alone.

She would have borne the housekeeper’s disapproval on her own, but now that the woman had seen fit to disparage her in front of her husband, she decided that she needed to assert her place as the lady of the clan.

But she would wait until she had sufficiently passed all the woman’s threats.

“Ye may escort the boys to their chambers, and see to them for the evening. They should be fed, as they are exhausted from their day,” the Laird continued. “The Lady and I will be going on a walk, and we arenae to be disturbed. Anyone who does so should be ready to sleep in the dungeons.”

Mabel flushed at the tone with which the words were delivered and hid her face so that neither of them would realize the direction her thoughts were heading. She also wanted to protest retiring the boys so early, but she saw them yawn and smiled. They had indeed exhausted themselves.

“Aye, Me Laird.” Missus Norah curtsied, a bitter look on her face. “Come, lads, there’s a tray of fresh bread and milk waitin’ for ye.”

Mabel watched the boys leave with the housekeeper before turning to the Laird, who had a small smile on his face.

He offered his arm, shocking her. “Shall we?”