"I'd better check on the bairn," she said.
Maisie nodded. Mrs. O'Halloran was already back at the bread. Margaret took a small pot of warm milk from the hearth, wrapped a cloth around the handle, and went back into the corridor.
The nursery was at the end of the east passage, a small room that caught the morning light well when the weather allowed. The door was pushed to, but not fully closed. She could hear nothing from inside, which meant Lilly was either asleep or quietly content, and either was a blessing at this hour.
She pushed the door open with her shoulder, the milk pot in both hands, and stopped.
Fergus was there.
He stood beside the crib with his back to the door, still wearing the same clothes he had on during the storm, his dark hair unbound and damp at the ends. He hadn't heard her come in. His entire attention was on the child in front of him, which, Margaret realized, was the only reason she was seeing what she was seeing.
Lilly was awake. She lay on her back with both arms raised, her small fists opening and closing in that slow, purposeful way she had when something had caught her attention. Her eyes were fixed on Fergus with the absolute, unblinking concentration of a bairn who has decided that this particular person is interesting and intends to investigate further. She stretched one hand toward him, fingers spread, reaching.
Fergus reached back. One large finger, extended slowly, and Lilly's hand closed around it with immediate satisfaction.
His jaw softened. Just slightly. Just enough.
Margaret had never seen that before. It was a raw, unguarded look. It was there and gone before he even knew she was watching.
So that is what ye look like when no one is watchin'.
He turned. The softness closed like an iron gate. His jaw clamped tight. His dark eyes locked onto hers, stripping away that fleeting vulnerability.
"Where were ye?" His voice was flat. Heavy. "She was cryin', and ye were nowhere to be found."
The words landed. Margaret felt the hit.
She didn't lower her gaze. She walked across the room, her skirts whispering against the floorboards, and placed the earthenware milk pot on the small table next to the crib. The wood scraped loudly in the tense silence.
He was doing it again. She could see it happening in real time, the distance building itself, brick by brick, as if last night had not happened. As if the rain, the shed, and his hands in her hair were things they had both agreed to set aside without talking about it. He was going to stand in this nursery, speak to her in that clipped, Laird-of-this-castle voice, and pretend that he had not kissed her twelve hours ago.
Nae today. Nay.
"We will feed her first," Margaret said, lifting the milk pot and turning to the crib with a calm she did not entirely feel. "And then ye are comin' with me."
Fergus straightened. "I've work to?—"
"Ye gave me yer word." She did not raise her voice. She did not need to. She looked at him over her shoulder, steady and direct. "Ye'll remember what that means."
A beat of silence.
Lilly made a small, impatient sound and reached again.
Chapter Eleven
"Right." Margaret lifted Lilly from the crook of her arm and held her out toward the door, where Maisie had appeared as though she had been waiting just beyond it, which, Fergus suspected, she had. "She is fed. Maisie will take her."
Maisie stepped forward, took the baby and left without a word. The door swung gently shut behind her.
Margaret turned to him.
"Ye gave me yer time," she said. "Yer presence. In all things, ye said." Her expression was entirely calm. "The castle runs on what this kitchen produces every mornin', and the people who run it have nae met their Laird properly. That changes today."
She tilted her head slightly. "Follow me."
She did not wait to see if he would.
Fergus stood in the nursery for one deliberate second before he moved. He told himself this was because he was a man who decided his own actions and not because the alternative was admitting that he had been following her with his eyes since the moment she walked in and had shown no signs of stopping.
