Page 29 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

Skye had her sister growing up, so she had never been lonely. Freya always made time for her and looked out for her. Over a bowl of freshly made porridge, they’d tease each other until their brother joined in. Older than them, he would sometimes be drawn into their antics.

Lily had her grandmother and father, but saw little else of the outside world. Skye wanted to bring a smile to her face. Find a way to make her giggle and enjoy herself.

Surely Kenna would be able to help.

Skye found her in the small sitting room, her needlework abandoned in her lap, staring into the fire with an unfathomable expression.

“Lady Kenna?”

Kenna was wearing a gown of deep forest-green wool, simple but well-made, the fabric worn soft from years of use rather than from any lack of means. A shawl made of her clan’s tartan was pinned at her shoulder with a small silver brooch, weathered with age—likely a keepsake from her late husband.

Her grey-streaked hair was pulled back beneath a modest wool cap, the kind favored by widows of her station, practical rather than fashionable. A string of plain wooden beads hung at her throat, and her hands, roughened from years of needlework and running a household, rested now forgotten in her lap atop the abandoned embroidery, her rings loose on fingers that had thinned with age.

She started, then softened when she saw Skye. “In here, lass.” She patted the seat beside her.

She had been so kind to Skye at dinner yesterday, reminding her of her mother. Skye’s memories of her were sparse. She could recall glimpses of flaming red hair, the kindest of green eyes, and a smile that was crooked on the right side. Then there was her laugh, gentle and soothing, lulling her into a happy place.

It was all Skye could remember. Everything else was told to her by her elder brother and sister. Memories they forged.

Now she crossed the room and sat, smoothing her skirts to give her hands something to do. She had donned a gown of soft dove-grey wool, simple for daytime wear within the castle walls, the sleeves fitted to the elbow before falling loose in a modest drape.

A thin band of her family’s tartan crossed one shoulder, pinned neatly in place, a quiet reminder of Castle Muir even here beneath another man’s roof. Her dark hair had been left mostly loose that morning, pinned back only at the crown to keep it from her face, a few loose curls framing her cheeks.

She wore no jewelry save a small ring that had belonged to her mother, and her skirts, when she smoothed them with her nervous hands, fell in plain, unremarkable folds. It was the sort of gown meant for sitting quietly with one’s thoughts rather than drawing any eye.

“I hoped I might find ye, Lady Kenna. I’ve been thinking, and I wanted to hear yer opinion on something.”

Kenna smiled. “Ye look like a woman who’s already decided and only wants me blessing but go on, then. What is it ye want me opinion on?”

“A treasure hunt. For Lily.”

Kenna blinked, her lips curling into a smile. “A treasure hunt? Please elaborate.”

“Aye.” Skye leaned forward, warming up to the idea now that she’d said it aloud. “Little clues hidden around the castle, leading to something small at the end. Ribbons, or sweets, or whatever ye think she’d like best. She’s cooped up within these walls so much, and I thought…” She hesitated, wringing her fingers, unsure if she was overstepping.

Kenna leaned forward. “Please continue. I want to hear what ye have to say. Me granddaughter is involved, after all. Do I nae have a right to ken?”

Skye met her gaze, still careful. What was she to Lily, truly? The girl might think she’d get a mother soon, but Skye was only here for a month. A month of this farce, and once she had an ending to her story, she would break off the betrothal and leave.

But it did not mean she couldn’t make the most of her time here. She could try to cheer up the girl.

“I thought she deserved a day that was only hers. Nothing political about it. Nothing anyone needs to whisper about.”

Kenna was quiet for a moment, studying her carefully. Skye was now sure she’d overstepped again… the way she kept doing since the day she’d arrived.

Last night’s argument with Dougal was an example of that. She should not have pushed, but the temptation to learn more about the man, to learn what was behind the walls he had built up and the rumors, had been too great.

Kenna reached over and squeezed her hand. “I should have thought of it meself years ago. Lily will be thrilled when she learns what we have planned for her.” She shook her head, something rueful crossing her face. “Ye’ve a fine mind for this, lass.”

“Truly?” Skye couldn’t help the small, pleased smile that broke through her earlier gloom.

If all she could accomplish in her short time here was bringing a smile to Lily’s face, then she would settle for that. Lily was a dear girl, and though they had spent only a few hours together, Skye wanted to do what she could to make her happy.

“Truly.” Kenna rose, crossing to the writing desk in the corner. She pulled out a scrap of parchment and reached for a quill. “Lily has toys enough, tutors enough, but naught that feels like an adventure. Nae since her faither locked half the castle away from the world.” She glanced back, catching herself. “Forgive me. I didnae mean to say that unkindly.” She shifted her gaze out the window, regret flashing across her face.

Skye had the feeling the older woman did not often speak out of turn, especially when her son was concerned. But the moment had overwhelmed her.

“I ken ye didnae, Lady Kenna,” she said gently. “It will remain between us. I promise.”