Page 39 of Forever My Lass

Ainslie was the first to utter a shout of delight as she pointed toward the stakes and wire wickets Angus had helped him set up a short time ago. Grace released a loud cry of pleasure that was completely out of character for her, and Iain eyed her in astonishment.

Color invaded the child’s cheeks as she glanced over her shoulder at Madeline who smiled with approval. Immediately, his oldest turned back to him and shrugged slightly. A wide grin on her sweet face, Grace ran after Ainslie, who had reached the tall box of croquet mallets. While the two girls talked excitedly with each other, Iain arched his eyebrows at Madeline in a silent demand as to his daughter’s unusual reaction.

“I’ve told Grace it’s perfectly fine to be enthusiastic in certain situations. She needs to enjoy being a child.”

At the explanation, Iain nodded as he turned back to his daughters. Madeline had succeeded where he had failed. In a relatively short time, she’d helped Ainslie control her impulsive, unrestrained behavior, while encouraging Grace not to be quite so reserved. The change in his daughters was remarkable, which pleased him greatly. The twins whirled away from the box of mallets and threw themselves at him with renewed cries of excitement and happiness.

“Oh, Faither, it’s wonderful,” Grace exclaimed with a wide smile, while Ainslie hugged him tightly.

“It’s magnificent, Faither. Thank you.”

The girls thanked him several more times before they returned to the croquet set to select their mallets. With a teasing grin, Iain gestured toward the tall wooden box.

“Would you care to join us, Madeline?”

“I’ve never been good at sports, so I think I’ll just cheer everyone on from the sidelines.” Her reply was accompanied by a wry twist of her lovely mouth.

“But ye must play, Madeline. It will nae be as much fun without ye.” Ainslie darted forward to tug on Madeline’s arm and tried to pull her toward the wooden box of mallets.

“Aye, Ainslie is right. Please say ye will play, Madeline.” Grace echoed her twin’s plea as the girl flanked her governess to aid in her sister’s efforts to drag Madeline to the box. Iain eyed her with amusement.

“Perhaps Madeline is afraid to do battle with us, lassies.” His mouth twitched with amusement as she resisted his daughters’ efforts to convince her to play.

“Oh, I’m not afraid,” Madeline said with a laugh as she wrapped an arm around the shoulders of her two charges. “I just know the minute I pick up a mallet, I’ve already lost the battle.”

“Which battle?” Iain chuckled and nodded toward his daughters as another round of pleading filled the air. “The game or their determination to have you join us?”

“All right, all right, I’ll play.” Madeline capitulated with laughter as the twins pulled her to the croquet set.

“The lassies already have their choice of battle weapons, so I’ll allow you to choose your mallet before me.”

Iain smiled at the impish way Madeline scowled and wrinkled her nose at him in mock irritation. Heaving a sigh of resigned amusement, she stared down at the remaining four mallets, then pulled one out of the box. The girls cried out with glee and led Madeline toward the starting point.

More than an hour and a half later, Iain murmured an oath as Madeline’s ball sent his rolling off the playing field. The cheerful smile she sent in his direction made him glare at her with exasperation.

“I thought ye dinnae play this game verra well.”

“I don’t,” she said, and her smile broadened to a grin at his frustration. “I’ve just been lucky.”

“Lucky?” he muttered in annoyance. “Lucky is when I win a wager on a beast that is a longshot.”

“Stop grumbling, and go get your ball,” she laughed.

Still muttering to himself, Iain stalked away from her to where his ball had landed outside the boundaries. As he picked up the ball and carried it to the edge of the course, then watched Ainslie knocking her ball through the final arch and hitting the stake. His partner ran to his side with an encouraging smile.

“Ye only have the last arch to go through, Faither. Madeline cannae reach it before ye do.”

Iain nodded at his daughter’s confidence, as he watched Grace send her ball through the last arch and hit the stake. His palm wrapped around the head of the mallet, Iain pressed the top of the stick against the ground to lean on it slightly. For a long moment, he studied the course, debating where to send his ball with his next whack.

Suddenly, his gaze fell on Madeline’s ball, which was lined up perfectly to go through the next to last-arch. Iain studied its placement for a long moment, debating whether he could knock it out-of-place while still lining his own ball up for the last arch. The sound of Madeline’s laughter floated toward him.

“I think you’re about to lose, my lord.”

At her light-hearted gloating, Iain lifted his head to meet her gaze. With a mocking smile, he pointed his mallet toward her ball in a silent promise that he intended to knock her out of place. Beside him, Ainslie gasped, but remained silent as Madeline’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Don’t you dare,” she protested with a note of pique in her voice.

Without replying, Iain lined himself up for the shot, and a moment later, a loud crack split the air as his mallet hit his ball. Straightening, he watched it roll speedily toward Madeline’s ball and land with a gentle bump against hers. Ainslie released a shout of disbelief and admiration at the successful strike and enthusiastically hugged him.