Page 15

T he days following their walk were more of the same, and even though she still woke up alone in her bed every day, she could sense that something had shifted between them.

The proof was there in the soft look in his eyes during the rare times when they were together with the boys, enjoying breakfast or tucking them into their beds.

Whatever it was that was brimming between them, the Laird seemed hellbent on avoiding being alone with her.

She understood the reason for his actions, but it did not quell the disappointment deep in her gut, neither did it prevent her from waking up every morning sweating, her breathing labored from a scalding dream which featured several variation of scenes where her husband kissed her passionately and touched her, fanning the flames of her desire.

With every dream, she worried that her self-control had grown thin and that she might attack the poor man just to satisfy that desire.

She had married the Laird in order to stay close to Connor and Ollie, but she found herself getting distracted by him. A part of her felt guilty about her distraction, but she consoled herself with the fact that the Laird had gotten closer to the boys over the past few days.

They had shed some of the trepidation they felt around him, but she could still feel that they did not trust him completely. It was in the restrained way they greeted him. In the guarded way they accepted his help.

Even if she couldn’t do anything about the state of her marriage, she was sure she could do something about the relationship between the boys and their uncle.

After much thought, she decided that since children bonded more over play than anything, they needed to play with their uncle outdoors, in the bright sunshine.

She was going to organize a picnic, she thought with a smile. She just needed to convince the Laird first.

Squaring her shoulders, she marched towards his study. When she stopped before the wooden door, she took a deep breath and knocked twice in rapid succession.

“Enter,” his deep voice came from within.

She opened the door and stepped inside, all her rehearsed speech flying to the four winds when she met his eyes.

He was sitting behind his desk, which was overflowing with correspondence.

His linen shirt hung open at the collar, and the sleeves were folded back to reveal a bronzed forearm peppered with hair.

His hair was slightly tousled, evidence that he had run his hand through it many times—possibly in frustration.

A smile formed on her lips at the thought of this tightly controlled man giving in to frustration.

She decided he looked even more irresistible when he was disheveled. In fact, she would have very much loved to be the cause of his disheveled appearance. Even now, her hands itched to touch his hair. To see if it was as soft as it looked, or if it was prickly like his owner.

When her eyes met the stunning blue of his, she realized that she had spent quite some time ogling him shamelessly. She could feel a blush of mortification rise to her cheeks.

“Did ye require anything from me, Me Lady?” he asked, curiosity creasing his brow.

“Huh?” she muttered dumbly, completely forgetting why she had come into his study in the first place.

His frown deepened, and she could see that he was impatient to return to the papers before him.

“We are blessed with good weather today,” she tried. “I thought ye might want to enjoy it with the bairns. They have been itching to go outside.”

In response, the Laird turned his head to look out the window.

He had said he wanted to get closer to the bairns, and what better way than to do it where they couldn’t be bothered by the stares of the clansmen?

“I didnae realize that the sun was already that high in the sky,” he said, looking back at the paperwork in front of him ruefully. “I wouldnae mind spending some time with the bairns, but I have a lot to do.”

He then looked up, steely determination in his eyes. “Inform the cook; she will provide everything ye need for the picnic. I’ll try to finish me work within the hour.”

He turned back to the papers on his desk, effectively dismissing her.

Not wishing to disturb him, Mabel backed out of the study, closing the door behind her. She leaned against the smooth surface and heaved a sigh of relief in an effort to rid herself of the tension that seemed to plague her whenever she was in her husband’s company.

In the hope of distracting herself, she moved to the nursery, where she was welcomed with squeals of delight.

Connor and Ollie clung to her skirts excitedly.

“We didnae see ye when we broke our fast this morning,” Connor complained, tilting his little head back so he could fix her with an accusatory look.

“I am terribly sorry, lads,” she said, lowering herself to her knees so they were at eye level. “I woke up later than usual. I promise I have something very interesting planned for today.”

She gave a mischievous grin to pique their curiosity, and they bounced on their heels.

“What did ye plan?” Connor asked.

“‘Tis a secret,” she intoned, suppressing a giggle at the gleam in their eyes.

“Tell us!” Ollie cried.

“Please!” Connor added.

“Aye. Aye. Alright.” She nodded. “Will ye promise to eat all yer food today? Even yer porridge?”

They were picky with their food, and they especially hated porridge, which she needed them to eat to gain the weight they had lost.

“Ye ken we dinnae like porridge, Aunt Mabel.”

“Then I willnae tell ye,” she said with a pout.

They hugged her skirts tighter and nodded.

“We will eat our porridge,” they promised.

“Good. I will tell ye, then.”

Their eyes were wide with anticipation, and she knew her words would be received well.

“We are going on a picnic,” she announced.

Their eyes lit up, but that spark dimmed as quickly as it appeared.

“Missus Norah willnae let us go outside,” Ollie muttered glumly.

“Worry nae, me dears.” Mabel gave them a mischievous smile. “She cannae stop us today. This picnic is the Laird’s order. Even Missus Norah cannae disobey yer uncle.”

At her reassurance, their excitement returned, and they hurried back to their nurse, so giddy and eager to dress up for the new adventure that they had forgotten to ask if the Laird was coming along.

In about half an hour, the twins were dressed smartly, their usually unruly hair schooled into a semblance of order.

Mabel was contemplating going to the Laird’s study to remind him of his promise, but before she could take a step in that direction, she saw him strolling towards them, impeccably dressed in a fresh linen shirt and trews that clung lovingly to his muscular legs.

Mabel did her best to drag her eyes away from his magnificent body, but it took a lot of effort.

“I believe the cook had everything at hand. Everything we need is in a wagon outside,” he said to her. “Are we ready?”

“Aye,” the boys chorused, reaching for his fingers to drag him along, their eagerness coaxing a chuckle from him.

They walked down the path in companionable silence, the boys skipping ahead and the Laird pulling the small wagon along. When they got to the river, he helped her set up the picnic while laughing at the twins’ antics.

Soon enough, the twins dragged him into the game. Mabel laughed as she watched them try to outrun him, their little legs flying so fast as they tried to escape him, their giggles of pure enjoyment and excitement filling the air.

Mabel decided that this was how she loved the twins best: happy, carefree, and healthy as any bairns their age. She resolved to do everything in her power to keep that joy on their faces.

“Aunt Mabel,” Connor called, a tinge of panic in his voice as he ran towards her. “Me shoe fell into the river.”

Fat tears were rolling down his cheeks.

Her heart constricted. She looked around for the Laird, but he was far away, helping Ollie build something with mud. It looked messy, but they were both happy and too distracted to be of any use. Time was of the essence.

She stood up and followed Connor to the riverbank.

The shoe in question was quite close to the bank, and she was confident she could reach it if she extended her hand a little. She knelt down and stretched out her arm, but just before her fingers could touch the shoe, the flowing water shifted it a little.

She tried to catch it before it was dragged downstream. Instead, she tripped on the hem of her dress and fell into the river.

Connor’s scream of horror grew more distant as the water dragged her under. She should have known better than to get close to a river when she was a poor swimmer at best. She thrashed, but it was no use, and with every second, she was convinced that she was going to die soon.

Suddenly, she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist and drag her to shore. She coughed while her rescuer thumped her back, forcing her to eject the water she had swallowed.

“Ye daft woman,” the Laird’s exasperated voice grunted in her ear. “Ye could have died, ye ken?”

It was true. If her husband had even been a moment late, she might have drowned.

She resolved to thank him as soon as she caught her breath.

When she looked up, she saw the twins huddled together, sheer terror in their eyes. They had barely recovered from the grief of losing their parents; she could imagine the fear they had felt, seeing her almost drown.

When they saw her looking at them, they ran towards her. Connor reached her first, throwing his small arms around her neck.

“I am most sorry, Aunt Mabel. This happened because of me. Please dinnae die,” he sobbed.

His pleas made tears spring in her eyes.

With a shaky hand, she rubbed his back soothingly. “Ye didnae do anything wrong. It isnae yer fault. ‘Tis mine. I should have asked for help.”

“Aunt Mabel is well now,” the Laird interjected, coming to kneel beside her.

He pulled the crying child away and took him in his arms.

“Ollie, help Aunt Mabel up, will ye?” he called to the other boy, who still held on to her skirt, tears rolling down his cheeks.

At his command, Ollie stood up, wiped his face with the back of his hand, and offered her his hand.

The gesture brought a proud smile to Mabel’s lips, and while she knew he could not bear her weight, she made a show of taking his hand while the Laird wrapped a strong arm around her waist and lifted her.

She must have misjudged her balance because she swayed when she stood. The Laird caught her against his hard chest while adjusting Connor in his other arm.

Even with the child between them, Mabel could not ignore the delicious shiver that ran through her when she touched his chest. The man was pure muscle, and with his wet clothes clinging to his body, she could appreciate his virility even more.

She looked up guiltily to find that her husband was not unaffected by their proximity. His eyes roved down her body, sparking heat where it touched, reminding her that the dress she had worn was now transparent and perfectly outlined her body.

Connor suddenly started squirming to be let down, feeling restless. His writhing managed to break the tension.

The Laird cleared his throat loudly and bent to let Connor down. Not for the first time, he was grateful for the presence of the children. A bit more time spent with his wife’s delectable body pressed to his, and he might have given in to the desire that had plagued him mercilessly for days.

“It is time to return to the castle, lads,” he called. “Come help me pack this up.” He gestured to their forgotten picnic.

In no time, the picnic was packed, and they strolled back to the castle. The boys were skipping up ahead, and once again, he was left alone with Mabel, who was doing her best to avoid his gaze.

“Mabel,” he said in an amused tone.

“Aye, Me Laird?” she answered, looking everywhere but at his face.

She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips, only adding further to her mortification. Why did he have to be so darn handsome?

She was still struggling to compose herself after being so close to his warm, hard body, and she hoped he would attribute the red hue on her cheeks to the chill she had caught from the dip in the loch.

“Ye seem to be avoiding me gaze. Dinnae tell me ye are embarrassed that I had to save ye from drowning?”

Mabel only replied with a rueful smile, her eyes downcast.

“There is nay need to be bashful. Ye can learn to swim if ye wish. Besides, ye are me wife; it is me duty to protect ye,” he said reassuringly.

Mabel nodded mutely.

Perhaps it was better that he thought her embarrassed by her poor swimming skills than find out how mortified she felt for being caught lusting after him.