Moira’s hands slowed. “What of him?”
“He should be there, should he nae?”
“If the Laird allows it.”
Violet looked down at John’s little face, his mouth slack now that he was drifting off to sleep. “He is John’s father.”
Moira folded another blanket. “Blood can be a strange claim, can it nae?”
Before Violet could answer, a voice came from the doorway. “That it can.”
Lachlan stood there, one shoulder leaning against the frame. He had made an effort with his clothes, though the effort did not hide the wear at the cuffs or the faint tremor in his fingers before he tucked one hand behind his back. His face brightened when his gaze found John.
“I didnae mean to intrude,” he said.
Moira glanced at Violet, then excused herself to fetch more linen from the adjoining room. Violet shifted John higher against her shoulder.
“Ye may come in,” she allowed.
Lachlan took two steps into the nursery. He looked at the baby’s blanket and reached toward it, then stopped with his hand hanging midair. “May I?”
“Carefully.”
His mouth curved. “I am trying to make that a habit.”
He touched the edge of the blanket with two fingers. John opened his eyes and caught Lachlan’s finger in his small fist. Lachlan went still.
Violet watched his face change. The charm thinned, and grief cut through it. His fingers trembled again, and this time she did not think he noticed.
“Jane would have laughed,” he rasped.
Violet swallowed. “She would have claimed that he had excellent judgment.”
“Even if he was chewing on his own blanket?”
“Especiallythen.”
Lachlan gave a soft laugh, and for a brief moment, it sounded clean. “Aye, she would.”
A maid entered with a tray and set a cup near the christening clothes. “For ye, me Lady. Moira said ye have hardly eaten.”
“I didnae ask for anything,” Violet said.
“She also mentioned that, me Lady.”
“Drink it,” Lachlan urged lightly. “All the excitement since the wedding would wear down a stronger woman.”
“Everyone keeps telling me I look tired.”
“Then perhaps everyone has eyes.”
Violet shot him a glare that was meant to be both stern and playful.
Lachlan smiled a little longer than the jest required.
Violet took the cup, as refusing would cause more fuss than drinking. She sipped once, then set it beside the folded cap and forgot it there when John stirred.
Lachlan watched her adjust the baby’s blanket. “Has Connor been kind to ye?”
