Page 54 of The Laird’s Dangerous Prize (The Highland Sisters’ Secret Desires #1)

CHAPTER THREE

“ I ’m sorry, but as ye can see, the coachman’s out of action, and me and Duncan must search the woods tae check if there are any more of those brigands hiding hereabouts.

If I unhitch a couple of the horses, will the wee lassie be all right if ye ride tae the castle?

” Conrad asked, unable to take his eyes off of Agnes.

“Aye, she loves horses, she’ll be fine,” Agnes replied, though the little blonde-haired girl she was holding so tightly was still crying, shaking, staring at him mutely, wide-eyed with fear.

“Ye dinnae need tae be afraid, lassie, I’ll nae hurt ye,” he told her gently, giving the child what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

But it failed to have the desired effect, for she looked even more afraid.

Agnes spoke to her in low, soothing tones, while the child clung to her neck like a monkey.

Who daes the wee lass belong tae? he wondered, confused by how close the pair seemed.

“I need tae fetch the bag from the carriage,” the maid said, interrupting his train of thought.

She hurried to the open door of the vehicle and reached inside.

She came back clutching a bulging tapestry bag in her arms. There was a sudden shout from somewhere out of sight, which Conrad hoped was Duncan finally dispatching the last of the brigands that had attacked the carriage.

But he was still worried that more might be lurking nearby, and it made him even more anxious to get the women away to safety.

He herded them to the front of the vehicle and hurriedly unhitched a pair of horses from the four standing in the shafts.

He was unprepared for the jolt that ran through him when his hand brushed Agnes’ as he passed her the reins.

It suddenly hit him that it was the first time they had touched since she had left him five years ago.

It shook him up so much, he had to snatch his hand away, and he was certain she felt it too because she did the same.

And even in the moonlight, he could see her cheeks redden.

Sh e’s more beautiful than ever , he thought, his eyes scanning her pale, tearstained face, a familiar pang of agonizing loss lancing through him. Why did ye leave me like that, Agnes? Why did ye go and never even say goodbye, nae a word from ye in five long years?

Realizing she still had the same effect on him was deeply unsettling, unleashing a whole hornet’s nest of deeply buried emotions that threatened to betray his true feelings for her if he did not maintain rigid self-control.

He saw Agnes glance back worriedly in the direction of the cry and knew she was afraid for her brother. “Duncan will be all right, dinnae worry,” he told her, but her tense expression told him she was unconvinced.

“Here, take the horses and ride as fast as ye can.”

“Aye, thank ye, Conrad,” Agnes said, her voice shaking as she grasped the reins tightly, the little girl still hanging onto her for dear life.

“Soairse, will ye take her?” she asked the maid, gently disentangling herself from the child’s arms and handing her to Saoirse, the tall, capable-looking lass of a similar age to herself that always accompanied her.

Who is this wee lassie? Conrad wondered, confused by the interplay between the trio.

Agnes was acting as if he was the mother, but he knew that was impossible.

Or was it? She’s been away five years. Maybe she met a man in France.

Maybe she’s even married. Pain twisted in his gut to think of it, the burning pain of jealousy.

“Aye, give her here,” Saoirse replied, taking the child onto her hip, kissing and cuddling her while he boosted Agnes up into the saddle. He noticed how the little girl wound her arms around the maid’s neck, appearing to take comfort in her caresses.

“Who daes the child belong tae?” Conrad asked Agnes, looking at her searchingly, needing an answer urgently.

“She’s-she’s—” she muttered.

“She’s mine,” the maid interjected. “But me lady loves her like her own as ye can see,” she added, smiling at him as he bounced the child gently on her hip.

“She can ride with me, Saoirse,” Ages said, reaching down for the child. Saoirse handed her up, and Agnes settled her in her lap. She cast Conrad what he thought was an oddly shifty glance as she added, “I’m a better horsewoman. She’ll be safer with me than with her maither.”

“Aye, she will,” Saoirse agreed, putting down the tapestry bag to take the reins of the other horse and allowing Conrad to boost into the saddle. He passed it up to her. “Thank ye. And thanks again fer comin’ out tae rescue us,” she told him with obvious gratitude before wheeling the horse about.

Well, all right, he thought, his jealousy turning to relief. ’Tis the maid’s child. Agnes is soft-hearted and cares fer the wee yin, ’tis all. He looked up at Agnes and said, “Away with ye then, and dinnae stop for anythin’.”

“Nay, we’ll go straight to the castle,” she assured him, glancing worriedly again down the road after Duncan before skilfully wheeling her horse around in the direction of her home.

In Conrad’s eyes, her anxiety only heightened her pale, delicate beauty.

“Thank ye again, Conrad. We’re very grateful fer yer help. Bring Duncan home safe.”

“Aye, I will,” he replied, unable to help gazing up at her, still hardly believing she was back.

“And yersel’, of course,” she added, looking down at him.

“Ye can be sure of it,” he replied, secretly touched by the unexpected show of concern for him but determined not to let her see it.

She’s only bein’ polite, that’s all. Dinnae get tae thinkin’ she cares about ye . However much ye wish she did.

“Away ye go now,” he repeated.

“All right. Come on, Saoirse, we must hurry and get the little one tae safety,” Agnes told the maid, kicking up her horse and setting off at a canter, followed immediately by Soairse.

Filled with a mixture of warring emotions, Conrad stood and watched while the women sped off down the road towards the castle, until they were no more than vague shapes in the darkness.

Agnes rode almost without seeing the road ahead.

Her eyes were blurred with tears, her head full of Conrad.

Her heart was aching in her chest, not from the ride, but from the shock of seeing him again after such a long time.

Unable to cope with the welter of emotions their meeting had stirred up inside her, she tried to push them down as the towers of her old home loomed up before them.

Before they reached the gates, they had already swung open as if to welcome her home. She and Saoirse rode straight into the main courtyard, their horses’ hooves clattering noisily on the cobblestones.

Naethin’ has changed yet it feels very strange tae be back here again after so long , Agnes thought, glancing around the torchlit enclosure as she and Saoirse reined in near the entrance to the castle keep.

She looked around at the familiar scene while she waited for Saoirse to dismount and take Roisin from her.

“She’s a wee bit calmer after the ride,” she told the maid, who set her bag down on the cobblestones before Agnes carefully handed Roisin down to her waiting arms.

“Aye, she loves the horseys. That’s right, eh, little one?

” Saoirse murmured affectionately as she let Roisin pet the horses for a moment.

Agnes realized that, just like her, Saoirse was hoping Roisin’s love of horses would help wipe away the shock of her recent ordeal.

Agnes slid from her saddle to the ground and handed the reins over to a waiting groom, who led the horses away.

“Night night, horseys,” Roisin called after them winsomely, waving.

“We’ll go and visit them tomorrow in the stables, shall we, darlin’?” Agnes asked her. “We’ll take them some carrots and apples tae eat. Would ye like that?”

“Aye, Ma, I would!”

“Agnes! Where’s the carriage? Why did ye ride in like that? Is everythin’ all right?” Her mother came hurrying from the keep towards them.

“Aye, we’re all right, Maither,” Agnes told her as they went to meet her.

“We were attacked by brigands on the road, but Duncan and Conrad and some of their men fought them off. They’ve gone to check the woods to see if there are any more of them.

” As they walked towards the open doors of the keep, she explained about the injured coachman being the reason why Conrad had insisted they take the horses.

“Is Duncan all right,” her mother asked worriedly as they stepped inside. Duncan was her pride and joy. Deservedly so , Agnes thought.

She silently prayed he was safe, and she did not wish to alarm her mother by telling her that the last she had seen of him, he had been fighting furiously with one of the brigands. So, she just said, “Aye, he’s fine. He’ll be along shortly, I expect.”

“Och, thank the good Lord,” her mother exclaimed with obvious relief. Then, she looked at Agnes with a faint air of disappointment and said, “So, ye made it home safely then.”

“Aye, we made it home, Maither,” Agnes replied, quite used to being the object of her mother’s quiet dissatisfaction. It no longer bothered her. All that mattered to her was that her mother loved Roisin.

As soon as Roisin heard her grandmother’s voice, she wanted to go to her. “Grandma!” she cried, reaching out for her. “There were bad men on the road!”

Lady Fiona held out her arms to the child, and Saoirse put Roisin down so she could run to her.

The older woman scooped her up in her arms and hugged her tightly, peppering her face with kisses.

“Och, me wee angel, I ken. Ye must have been very frightened,” she told her little granddaughter soothingly, stroking her hair, clearly hiding her own alarm at what could have befallen her.

“She was very brave,” Agnes said, giving Roisin an encouraging smile as they entered the keep. “I was very proud of her.” She was rewarded by a bright, gappy smile from her daughter.

“I’ve had yer old chambers prepared fer ye and a room next door fer Roisin and Saoirse,” her mother said as they stood in the vestibule at the bottom of the sweeping mahogany staircase.

“We’ve arranged a special dinner this evenin’ in honour of Duncan’s safe return from battle.

This is the first time he’s been home since we came tae visit ye in France. ”

“He’s been away fightin’ fer six months?” Agnes asked, surprised. “I’m awful glad he’s come home safe. That’s cause fer celebration all right.” Something else occurred to her then. “Is that why Conrad’s here as well? I thought ye said he’d be away when I came.”

“Nay, they came back taegether,” Lady Fiona replied distractedly. “There was a change of plan, that’s all. The dinner will start at seven o’clock, and ye’d best be on time. Ye ken what yer faither’s like. He cannae abide tardiness.”

Agnes gave a wry chuckle. “Ye dinnae need tae remind me, Maither,” she said in answer to her mother’s warning look.

“Well, time’s getting’ on. Ye’d best go upstairs now and get the wee one settled in if ye’re tae be ready fer seven,” Lady Fiona replied. She put Roisin down, kissed her on the cheek, and said fondly, “Go on now, pet, I’ll come and say good night tae ye later, all right?”

“All right, Grandma. Dinnae forget though,” Roisin said as Agnes took her hand and they and Saoirse started up the stairs.

“Lord, what a day!” Saoirse sighed as they entered the room next door to Agnes’ old chambers. She put down the bulging tapestry bag she had brought from the carriage and rubbed her back.

“Aye, and what a night,” Agnes agreed, taking in the small bed that had been set up next to the one Saoirse would occupy during their stay.

The family had decided it would save them embarrassment if everyone thought Roisin was the maid’s child.

Even though Agnes did not like it, she knew she had no choice but to accept it.

“Are ye tired, wee one?” Saoirse asked, looking at Roisin, who was yawning and rubbing her eyes. “I’ll put her tae bed. Ye’d best go and get ready tae meet yer faither,” she told Agnes.

“Aye, thank ye, Saoirse.” While Roisin went over to test out her bed, Agnes leaned closer and whispered to the maid, “And thank ye fer nae givin’ me away tae Conrad. I couldnae believe it when I saw him standin’ there. Me heart was racin’ when he asked ye who Roisin belonged tae.”

“Aye, I bet it was,” Saoirse whispered back as they stood watching indulgently while Roisin bounced on the bed.

“’Tis better that everyone thinks she’s mine.

It would only be embarrassin’ fer ye all if anyone outside the family learned ye’re her maither.

I dinnae mind goin’ along with it fer yer sake, me lady. ”

“I hate lyin’ tae everyone, but ye ken what me family’s like. They still look on me as their shameful secret.”

“Well, there’s bound tae be a few tricky moments, but we’ll get through it as best we can,” Saoirse told her in her usual practical way.

She was the only one Agnes trusted enough to tell the truth about the identity of Roisin’s father, and Agnes knew she would keep the secret no matter what.

“Now, time’s gettin’ on, me lady,” her friend said, always looking out for her.

“Ye’d best go and make yersel’ respectable if ye’re gonnae meet yer faither at this celebration later. ”

“Aye, all right.” Agnes went over to Roisin, who had collapsed on the bed giggling, and hugged her. “Saoirse will get ye ready fer bed while I go and change, me darlin’. But I’ll be back in a little while tae kiss ye goodnight,” she promised.

“All right,” Rosin said, kissing her cheek and looking at her hopefully. “Can I have some milk and shortbread before bed? I’ve been very good, and I was very brave when the bad men came.”

“Of course, ye can, love. Saoirse will see tae it fer ye. Now, I must go and change.”

Agnes left the room and went into her old chambers next door. Lamps had been lit, and a fire burned in the grate, giving the room a warm, inviting glow. Her bed was still there, all made up with fresh linen. It felt strange, but at the same time good to be back.

Despite her trepidation about meeting her father again after so long, she found she was quite looking forward to spending time with her family and celebrating Duncan’s safe return. But her anticipation was laced with fear—fear of bumping into Conrad again.

He’s bound tae be at the dinner too. Ach, I’ll just have tae dae me best tae avoid him and keep him at arm’s length. Even if it pains me tae dae it…