Page 47 of The Laird's Wicked Game
“Will I too?” Lyle asked, glancing up from where he was still writing. The lad sat next to Kylie this morning upon a long bench.
“No,” Ailean replied with a snort. “Ye are too wee. I shall write with a quilllongbefore ye do.”
In response, Lyle muttered an oath and was about to jam his elbow into Ailean’s ribs when Kylie caught his arm.
“Of course, ye will,” she said firmly. “Yer brother is only riling ye.”
“Baby,” Ailean muttered, and Lyle’s blue eyes started to gleam with unshed tears.
Kylie cut Ailean a quelling look before she focused on his little brother once more. “Ailean will always be yer elder,” she said gently. “And ye must get used to it.”
“But I want to learn to ride … to write with a quill,” he replied, his voice a trifle querulous.
“And ye shall.” She paused then before giving a rueful shake of her head. “I have two elder sisters and two younger … I know what it’s like to compare yerself to a sibling.” Confusion shadowed his gaze at these words, so she continued. “My two elder sisters, Sonia and Alma, are beauties … while my two younger siblings, Liza and Makenna, have fiery natures that make them impossible to ignore. Growing up, they received all the attention … while I sometimes felt invisible.”
“Ye are bonnie too, Lady Grant,” Ailean piped up then, his voice contrite. He didn’t like being ignored in favor of his brother. “Andfiery.”
She flashed Ailean a smile before focusing on Lyle once more. “The point remains that in families there will always be rivalry.” Her mouth quirked again. “And there are somebenefitsto being the younger sibling, ye know?”
“There are?” Lyle looked doubtful.
“Aye, yer father will be harder on his firstborn and more lenient with ye. And ye can learn from Ailean’s experiences and mistakes too … and avoid some of them.”
“I can?”
“Aye.”
“I won’t make any mistakes,” Ailean said boldly.
Kylie huffed a laugh and reached across, ruffling his mop of auburn hair. “Aye, ye will, lad … wealldo.”
“That is a lovely tune … I haven’t heard ‘Wild Mountain Thyme’ in a long while.”
Seated on the window seat in the lady’s solar, continuing the embroidery that Makenna had left behind, Kylie glanced over at where Tara had just entered the chamber.
“Thank ye,” Kylie replied, embarrassed. In truth, she preferred to sing when she was alone. Her voice wasn’t as good as some of her sisters’, or her mother’s. “It’s always been my favorite.” Her gaze shifted to the tray Tara carried, bearing a jug and two wooden cups. “What have ýe brought?”
Tara flashed her a smile. “The first of the apple wine … I thought as the mist is finally clearing, we could share a cup.”
Kylie grinned back. Indeed, it was a relief to see the world again. The last tendrils of fog were now rolling out to sea, revealing one of those autumn afternoons when the light was golden, and every detail outdoors stood out in sharp relief. From her vantage point by the window, she had an arresting view over the pastures and tilled fields that rolled west of the broch. The sight had been so bonnie that she’d been compelled to sing.
Casting aside her embroidery, she made space on the window seat while Tara placed the tray on a nearby table and poured them cups of wine.
“How are ye faring since yer sister left?” Tara asked, bringing over the wine and perching next to her. The sunlight burnished the woman’s red mane, making it look as if it were aflame. Kylie had never seen anyone with such bright hair.
“Well enough,” she answered with a half-smile. It wouldn’t do to appear too exuberant, or Tara would wonder at the reason. “Although, I do miss Makenna.” She paused then. “I worry about her too.”
Tara’s mouth curved, even as her silvery gaze shadowed. “That is only natural … all of us fret about our siblings.”
“Aye … but Makenna is a proud one and wedded to serving in our father’s Guard.” Her brow furrowed, and she took a sip of the sweet apple wine. “I fear yer brother may be disappointed in his bride.”
Tara snorted. “On the contrary, Makenna is likely exactly what Bran needs.” Her mouth kicked up into another smile then. “A strong-willed man requires a woman to match him.”
Kylie smiled, even as she thought about her own marriage. Errol had been dominant, yet she’d smothered her feisty nature to please him. It hadn’t worked. Perhaps if she’d shown more spirit, things might have been different between them. Shaking herself free of a past she couldn’t change, she eyed Tara. “Well, it’s fortunate for Jack that ye have a nature to match yer hair.”
Tara threw back her head and laughed, and when her gaze met Kylie’s once more, it sparkled. “I’m glad ye came to live with us,” she said, still smiling. “As much as I love it here, I’ve missed having someone to talk to.” She paused then, sobering. “Donalda and I were never close … but I can be myself with ye.”
Kylie took this admission in with interest. “What was she like?”