“And what sort of activities will you be engaging in?”
“I was thinking we would do a few things that would leave her feeling confident that many things haven’t changed,” Oliver said. “A walk up the meadow, a bit of flower-sniffing, perhaps a gentle ride if I could borrow a pair of horses.”
Jamie stroked a bit more. “Do you know how to ride, Master Phillips?”
“I’ll learn quickly.”
Jamie did smile then. “Perhaps your gel can help you with that on a different day. I believe she already has plans for you today.” He stepped back and held the door open. “Go have a look.”
Oliver accepted the offer whilst it was still good, then came to a full stop at the sight of the absolute chaos that greeted him.
The children—well, more particularly Robert and Patricia—were bouncing around Mairead like puppies whilst Young Ian was trying to settle them down. He spared a wish that he’d asked Ambrose for some particulars on the art of keeping younger children from horning in on his time with his future, er, well, whatever she would be willing to be, but that moment had definitely passed long ago.
Patricia saw him and raced over to throw herself into his arms. He hugged her, grateful that at least one MacLeod female was glad to see him, then set her back down on her feet.
She slipped her hand into his. “Treat or a card?” she asked brightly.
He nodded toward Mairead. “I brought you a treat there.”
Patricia laughed and tugged. “Come see her. She’s had a wee makeover, so you might not recognize her.”
Oliver suspected that might be true, which could throw a spanner into his carefully considered works. He walked with Patricia across the hall and had to take a moment to gape at the woman standing there in front of the fire, looking particularly at her ease whilst he felt particularly not at his own. He wondered if Emily had been hard at work or if Mairead had merely raided Elizabeth’s closet.
She was dressed in a flowy black skirt that ended at her ankles, a tunic-like blouse adorned with flowers in a riot of colors, and a very lovely sweater covering it all that he would have bet good money was cashmere, which meant it had come from Emily given that that was her favorite fabric. He imagined he would get a bill for the whole thing which he would pay many timesover for the sight of a vintage clanswoman occasionally looking at the things she was wearing—more particularly her chirpy little flower-patterned trainers—and giggling.
He suspected the day had already begun to get away from him.
Patricia abandoned him to go take Mairead by the hand. “You’ve met Oliver before, haven’t you?”
“I have,” Mairead said with a happy smile. “You look very braw in those new pieces of demon garb.”
“And you,” he managed, “are absolutely gorgeous.”
She laughed uneasily, then looked at Patricia. “I’m not, but this wee one did help me choose these lovely things this morning.”
“And I’ll help you with the rest of the day,” Patricia said brightly. “We’ll have heaps of fun!”
Oliver suspected his lady’s introduction to the current age had just been co-opted by a seven-year-old who was sprinkling her very capable Gaelic with a few modern English terms that she was doing her best to translate. She had help with that in the persons of her brothers who were obviously striving to make Mairead’s transition into the future as smooth as possible. He cleared his throat.
“What about a walk in the meadow?” he offered.
“You can do that in any century,” Patricia said firmly. “We want to show Mairead the beauties ofthiscentury.”
It occurred to him then just what had bothered him from the start. He wasn’t quite sure how to voice the thought without either sounding completely daft or cluing Jamie’s children in to things they shouldn’t have known, but he thought he should at least make the attempt.
“But it isn’t as though Mairead is from, erm—”
Patricia reached out and patted him. “We know, Oliver.”
He looked around for aid and found that Elizabeth had come to stand next to Young Ian.
“Not all family secrets are bad,” she said with a smile.
“And I just learned our great, whacking one last night,” Patricia said, her eyes wide. “But I’m to be eight in a month, so it was time.” She looked at Oliver seriously. “I can be trusted with important things.”
Oliver imagined she could be.
“So let’s go to the village,” Patricia finished. She looked up at Mairead. “There might be things that seem odd, but just hold my hand and you’ll be fine.”
