Page 20 of Wedded to the Twisted Highlander

“Well, if ye keep up like this, we’ll nae have anyone left to look after him. Then what? Ye think God will negotiate and let us have him for a while longer?” Alba asked, her cheerful demeanor shifting.

Thomas grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Faither is in good hands,” he said. “I promise ye. But right now, I’ve got a lot on me mind, and I need time to think.”

“So, there is something that’s distractin’ ye,” she said, arching an eyebrow that could pierce through the thickest fog. “Go on, tell me what it is. Ye ken very well that I like to help.”

“I ken, but I dinnae think this is something ye can help me wit’.”

“Well, if ye change yer mind, ye ken ye can always come to me,” Alba offered.

“Aye, but ye ken that I willnae do such a thing,” Thomas said, a hint of sympathy lacing his voice.

“If nae me, then someone else,” Alba said. “I worry about ye. I worry about our clan. Did ye ken that Clan MacTavish has three bairns and four more on the way?”

“And what am I supposed to do wit’ that knowledge? So there are more bairns cryin’ and droolin’ over there. So what?” Thomas asked as he watched Astrid take Melody’s little hand and lead her out of the room. His plan to talk to her was thrown out the window.

“Do what ye will wit’ it and find yerself a lass to wed and bed. I want grandchildren, Thomas. The council wants an heir. And from what I’ve heard, this lass is quite a beauty.”

“And ye believe what people say?” Thomas asked, arching a knowing eyebrow at his skeptical mother.

“Ye ken very well I dinnae,” she huffed as she swatted at him as if he were a fly. “Yer braither paid me a visit this morning.”

“And there it is,” Thomas said. “And what, pray tell, did he tell ye?”

“That she was lovely but looked as if she’d been lost at sea,” Alba said, her voice laced with concern. “Ye ken that ye’re a fine laird. Nay one in the clan will say otherwise. But just make sure that what ye’re doin’ benefits the clan.”

“She’s a fine healer who will be lookin’ after Faither,” Thomas explained. “Now, I’m sure she doesnae want to bring up her past,so I dinnae want ye or any of me siblings bombardin’ her wit’ questions. She’s been through enough as it is.”

“Why, Thomas. If I didnae ken any better, I’d think that ye’re actually blushin’.”

“Dinnae start readin’ into things as if they were omens,” Thomas groaned.

“Aye, ye never did believe in signs. But that doesnae mean they dinnae happen. A tree can fall in the field, but what if ye were there?”

Thomas arched a skeptical eyebrow at her, immediately silencing her. As much as he loved his mother, he couldn’t handle her superstitions at times.

“I ken ye dinnae believe,” she continued as she swatted at him again as if he were a gnat and not the Laird she had raised him to be. “Yer faither didnae either.”

“Wait, is he…?”

Panic shot through him. Why hadn’t Astrid informed him of his father’s passing?

Anger overtook the panic as his mind jumped to punishments he could dole out to her. That tricky minx… he should never have let her stay.

“Nay,” Alba answered, oblivious to the impact of her words.

Thomas exhaled sharply at that.

“He’s comfortable at the moment, thanks to the healer. Where did ye find her, by the way?”

“In the village,” he answered vaguely.

Did he dare tell his mother that he’d allowed a thief to roam the castle? It would no doubt rattle her to the core.

Thomas had learned the delicate art of skipping between the lines of fact and fiction. What she didn’t know, he wasn’t going to divulge.

“Well, she’s worth every coin ye’re payin’ her. Ye are payin’ her, aye?”

Thomas nodded.