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“ T hat will be all,” Campbell told the men who had gathered in his study for their monthly meeting, rising as he did so.

They had just given him reports about the current state of the borders and the crime rate in the villages, as well as the necessary repairs he needed to make so the villagers could survive the winter.

He wished to claim that he had heard every word of what had been said during the meeting, but his mind had been squarely on the newest responsibilities that had been foisted on him without any warning.

A frown creased his brow as he recalled that he was now the sole guardian of his brother’s orphaned sons.

He hadn’t seen his brother in years, and now to be saddled with such a responsibility when he had put off having children irritated him.

“Me Laird?” A feminine voice startled him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even realized he wasn’t alone anymore.

He looked up to see his housekeeper, Norah, looking down at him with a worried look.

“Have I disturbed ye, Me Laird?” she asked.

He had tasked her temporarily with watching over the boys while he continued his search for a governess to oversee their care. It was necessary that he give them the best care he could, since they were his only link to his brother.

“Nae at all, Norah,” he answered. “How are the bairns?”

She shook her head with a dour look. “Nae verra well, Me Laird,” she answered. “They didnae eat again. I worry for them. I tried offering them sweets, but they didnae even look at me. They will waste away if this continues. It has been days already.”

“Ye were supposed to make them, Norah,” he scolded. “Ye have had bairns of yer own; surely two lads should hardly be a challenge.”

“Me Laird, I?—”

“Ye may take yer leave now,” he interrupted, not needing more excuses. “I will see to them meself.”

She curtsied and took her leave.

He didn’t miss the quiver in her lips or the tears in her eyes, but he could scarcely care. He had given her a task, thinking she would prove useful, but she had failed.

Still, could he blame her?

The woman had practically raised him since infancy, yet she had been unable to bond with the children, who had experienced grief that would break even the strongest men.

Campbell sighed as soon as the door closed, eyeing the pile of correspondence on his desk that he had to attend to.

The new bottle of whiskey that his friend, Kian, had gifted him sat on his sideboard, drawing his attention.

But it was too early for a drink, and he didn’t want to meet the boys smelling like a drunkard.

He skimmed through the letters, frowning when he saw the envelope bearing his grandfather’s seal.

What does he want?

They had not spoken since he had been born, and the oddness of his recent correspondence was irritating.

He tossed the letter onto the growing pile of his grandfather’s old and opened others. He responded when necessary and eyed the time. He was using the letters as an excuse to delay his visit to the boys, and guilt was eating at him with every letter he wrote.

He sighed, rising grudgingly to his feet. It wouldn’t do to delay any longer. If anyone could make headway with the boys, it would be him. After all, he was the only one who could likely draw them out of their grief. The stubborn Muir blood that ran in their veins ran in his before.

He went to Ollie’s room first, hoping that the younger twin would be more impressionable and inclined to trust. But when he found the bed empty, panic flared in his chest, which caused him to burst into Connor’s room with more force than he would have liked.

He found the two boys huddling close to one another in fear of him.

They looked so much like Aidan had been at that age, with ruffled brown hair and eyes, and a stubborn edge to their jaws.

But while so similar, there were still slight differences.

Connor had ruddy cheeks rounded with youth, while Ollie had a sharper jaw line and slightly smaller build.

Campbell sighed and relaxed his shoulders, trying for a smile—an act he hadn’t attempted in years—but it came out as more of a grimace, frightening them even more.

“How are ye, lads?” he asked.

But they watched him with wide, unblinking eyes.

Ollie eyed him warily before burying his head in his brother’s shoulder.

It wasn’t hard to discern the reason for the action. Even Campbell was sometimes repulsed by the scar that ran along the side of his face. But when he remembered it was a small price he had to pay to ensure his clan’s survival, he ignored the sentiment.

“I hear ye refuse to eat anything,” he started softly. “Why?”

They didn’t answer.

“I willnae hurt ye. I am yer faither’s braither. Yer uncle. I only want to protect ye, but ye must eat.”

He took a step forward, but when they shrank back, he lifted his hands in surrender and stepped back.

“I worry verra much for ye both, but I willnae force ye,” he murmured. “I can only try, but yer faither wouldnae have wanted ye to starve.”

At the mention of their father, Ollie started crying, and tears pooled in Connor’s eyes.

“I didnae mean to make ye cry,” Campbell soothed. “Please dinnae cry. Ollie…”

He watched the boy cry, unsure of what to do to make it stop. He had never had to handle crying children, hence his helplessness in such a situation.

He tried to reach for the boys again, but they shrank back. Their vivid rejection sent a stab of pain through him.

“Me Laird?” Magnus, his man-at-arms, walked in, eyeing the scene with concern.

Campbell knew the man wanted to offer advice, but he didn’t need advice, not when he was so frustrated. He hated seeing the boys in pain and not knowing how to comfort them.

“Aye, Magnus,” he answered, trying to hide his frustration.

“There is a lass here to see ye.”

“A lass?”

“Aye,” Magnus confirmed. “She wouldnae tell me her business, but she asked to see ye.”

“What did she look like?” Campbell asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Young and unsuitably dressed for the weather. She would have caught her death if it had been less warm,” Magnus answered. “But she has fine manners and is bonny.”

Perhaps she has come to apply for the position of governess.

Campbell had sent out word that he was seeking a governess to help care for the boys and comfort them in the way he couldn’t.

His only way of handling grief involved training with the sword until he felt too sore to remember the reason for his grief. Tears and tantrums weren’t anything he was accustomed to.

“Alright,” he muttered. “Where have ye put her?”

“Yer study, Me Laird.”

“Verra well. Keep an eye on them for me.”

Magnus nodded, stepping away from the door.

With one last look at the boys, Campbell stepped out of their chambers, hoping that by the end of his meeting with the strange woman, he would have a solution to the conundrum of his starving nephews.

Campbell didn’t know what he had been expecting when Magnus had mentioned the lass, but the one in front of him was nothing like he had expected.

Magnus had been correct in saying that she was bonny, but he had severely understated how so. With her flaming red hair and green eyes, she almost looked like a fae creature. But the poise with which she held herself told him she was anything but.

Her face was soft, with eyes that screamed innocence, but the shape of her lips said anything but. Full and pink from the cold, they were shaped to stir a man’s lust. Campbell found himself wanting to test the softness of her ripe mouth.

Even though she was on the shorter side, she had a figure a man would enjoy thoroughly, with round, pert breasts and a narrow waist that flared into hips a man would spend days worshipping with his lips.

Campbell liked his women taller, but the lust that roared inside him now gave him pause.

Ye dinnae even ken if she’s married.

She didn’t look too young to be married, and it was a strong possibility, but the thought wasn’t at all appealing to him the longer he studied her. Everything about her screamed innocence, and if she were married, it would have been tainted with her husband’s instructions in the bedroom.

His hand itched as curiosity to test his theory of whether she was as innocent as she appeared overcame him, but he pushed down the emotion to conduct a more thorough appraisal, beyond lust.

He decided to try to deduce who she was, still not wanting to make a mistake.

She was dressed simply and not warm enough to have traveled to his clan, but her garments were of fine quality, which meant she was not a mere villager.

She couldn’t be a laird’s daughter, or she would never have traveled so far alone.

The longer he studied her, trying to figure out her story, the more he grew puzzled. Everything about her revealed different things, and he didn’t like how he was walking blindly into the conversation.

She had a determined look on her face as she stared up at him, but her posture and the way she wrung her hands betrayed her nerves. She looked more like a child who had been caught doing something naughty than a lady applying for the role of governess, but he could be wrong.

Looks could be deceiving.

He stepped closer, and her eyes widened. He noted she had a light dusting of freckles across her nose, which made her look even younger than he had assumed.

He had hoped to intimidate, but the look in her eyes unsettled him. Her eyes held a look of intrigue, and he searched their depths for a sign of fear, but there was none.

Usually, his appearance inspired panic in the fairer sex, but only curiosity sparked in this woman’s eyes.

Just who is she?

He frowned, clearing his throat, and moved to his seat, needing to regain control of the situation.

“Have ye come to apply for the position of governess?”