“So glad to see ye could join us this mornin’,” the Laird replied. “I feared ye’d stay abed with yer sister.” He motioned for her to sit in the empty chair beside him.
Trying to hide her unease, Lavina circled the table and sat, acutely aware of every pair of eyes in the room. She was the outsider, the foreigner, the strange woman whispered about in corners.
“I take it ye slept well, then?” the Laird asked, pushing a plate of warm bread toward her. “Ye must eat. Ye look like naught but skin and bones.”
Without hesitation, Lavina reached for the pastries. The first bite sent warmth through her chest, the flaky crust and sweet jam melting on her tongue. Each bite was more delicious than the last.
Maisie would love these.
She should probably sneak a few into her pocket for later.
“Aaron told me that yer sister pulled through the night,” the Laird continued. “But I’m sure ye’re curious to ken who this girl is.”
He turned his head slightly, his eyes softening as they landed on the child.
There was no need for introductions. Lavina had already pieced together who was who and instantly understood that she had no allies around this table.
“And that’s yer daughter,” she said with a nod toward the girl as she reached for another pastry.
“Aye,” the Laird confirmed. “Her name is Amber. As part of yer duties as Lady McGowan, ye’d look after her. As ye can see, the lass needs a maither’s touch, and I have none to give. I’m nae fit to raise a girl on me own.”
Lavina wiped the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin. “And what exactly do ye wish for her to learn? Manners? French? Latin? Are ye tryin’ to shape her into a lady of the court?”
“I’d be grateful for whatever ye can teach the wretched thing. I’m sure she needs to learn good manners,” the Laird said flatly. “But dinnae expect her to talk to ye. She hasnae said a word since shewas dropped at me door six months ago. Though I cannae say I blame her. I frighten the poor thing.”
Lavina glanced toward Amber, her heart twisting.
The girl hadn’t taken her eyes off her once. There was confusion in her eyes. Longing, too.
It baffled Lavina that the Laird had kept the child at all. A hardened man like him raising a daughter? Yet there she sat. Unkempt, maybe, but alive, and not unloved, even though he didn’t know how to show it.
“If teachin’ her manners is what’s required,” Lavina said quietly, “then that’s what I’ll do. If this is how ye wish for me to repay ye, then so be it.”
The Laird took a slow sip from his mug. “Is there something wrong?” he asked, eyeing her over the rim.
Lavina pressed her lips into a tight line and shook her head. The words sat on her tongue like honey. “It would’ve been nice to ken that ye had a daughter, is all.”
“And how would that have made a difference?” he pressed. “Would ye have turned me down?”
Before she could answer, another voice rang from the doorway.
“Laird McGowan.”
Lavina’s attention shifted to the thin man approaching the table. He had shaggy brown hair and sharp green eyes. He stood like a sentinel, his posture rigid, his clothing worn from travel.
“Stephen,” Theo greeted, nodding. “What news have ye from the realm?”
Stephen paused, his eyes flicking briefly toward Lavina. The unspoken question lingered between them.
Theo rolled his shoulders back. “Stephen, this is Lavina. Lavina…”
“Lewis, of clan McBride,” Lavina supplied.
“I take it she’s the one whose sister is in the infirmary?”
“Aye,” Theo replied. “One and the same. Lavina has agreed to be me wife.”
Shock registered openly on Stephen’s face. His mouth fell open as if his jaw had lost a hinge. “Say it again?”
