“Where’s Seamus?” Nicholas asked.
“He fell asleep,” his sister answered, nodding at the back of the wagon.
“And not a minute too soon,” Roban said darkly. “I thought I’d have to tie him down or he’d fall out.” He rubbed his throat. “This journey’s made me thirsty. I wonder if that Mairi’s got more of theuisge beathashe makes so well?”
“I believe she has, although why you prefer that to wine, I’ll never understand,” Nicholas answered gravely. In spite of his serious mien, Riona could hear amusement in the lord of Dunkeathe’s voice.
“Well then, if you’ll excuse me,” Roban replied, “I’ll step over to the village, since I don’t think you’ll be needing me anymore today.”
“No, go ahead, and have one for me,” Adair said.
As Roban headed for the gates, whistling a rollicking tune, a tousled haired, towheaded little boy about four years old stuck his head out of the canvas covering of the wagon.
“Uncle Nicholas!” he cried as he climbed over the seat. He stood up and threw out his arms. “Catch me!” he ordered—and then he launched himself at Nicholas.
With a gasp, Riona started forward, while Nicholas lunged and caught the boy in midair.
“Seamus, you’re getting too big for that,” Lady Marianne admonished as Riona halted and backed away, trying not to feel like a complete fool. “One of these days you’re going to fall or hurt your uncle.”
Man and boy both looked at Lady Marianne, the boy with skepticism and the man as if she’d called both his honor and his masculinity into question.
“Nevertheless, your mother could be right,” Nicholas reluctantly admitted as he looked down at the boy, “if you keep growing the way you are.”
“Oh, I can’t hurtyou,”the little boy said, not a whit disturbed by his mother’s admonition as he smiled up at his uncle. “You’ll always catch me.”
Yes, yes, he would, Riona thought. Nicholas would never fail to protect anything he loved, whether it was this castle, or his nephew, or his sister. Or his wife, whichever woman could win him.
“He does that every time,” Polly noted. “Didn’t I say he was an imp? God love him, though, he’ll be a brave one, like his father and uncle.”
Adair Mac Taran ruffled the lad’s blond hair. “Now then, young rapscallion, will you go with your mother and uncle into the hall, or help me with Neas?”
“Neas!” Seamus cried, jumping up and down. “Can I ride him? Please!”
The Scot laughed, the sound like a deeper version of the boy’s merriment. He scooped up his son and deposited him on the back of his horse. “Hold on tight, Seamus. Our family honor will be besmirched if you fall off.”
“I won’t fall,” the boy declared. He looked so determined, he reminded Riona very much of his uncle, and she was quite sure he’d stay on the horse no matter what.
Lady Marianne held her baby out to her brother. “Here, take Cellach,” she ordered.
“Give me your hand and I’ll help you down,” Nicholas answered.
“Don’t be silly,” Lady Marianne chided, and again, Riona heard that hint of familiar resolve. “Hold Cellach and I’ll get down by myself.”
With a pained look, Nicholas complied, taking the little bundle of baby awkwardly. As his sister climbed down off the cart, he gazed at the wee bairn nestled safely in his powerful arms as if she were a miracle.
He might be imposing—and he was—and he might be intimidating—and he was—but as Riona watched him, her throat tightened, and she was filled with a burning, bitter envy for the woman who would bear his child.
Once Lady Marianne was on the ground, Nicholas immediately went to give the baby back to her.
“Why don’t you hold her a while longer? You seem to have a way with her,” Lady Marianne said as she slipped her arm through his.
He looked as if he’d rather walk through fire. “You take her.”
His sister blithely ignored him. “Now tell me all the news,” she said as they started toward the hall.
Suddenly, Lady Marianne looked Riona’s way. Their eyes met, and in that brief instant, the lady’s curious gaze seemed as penetrating as her brother’s, capable of reading the secret desires of Riona’s heart.
Riona silently cursed herself for lingering in the courtyard when she had so much to do. “Come along, Polly,” she said briskly, hurrying away. “We’ve wasted enough time already.”
