Page 68 of When the Laird Conquers

“I didnae want to disturb ye,” he offered, a note of apology in his voice. “But I was passin’ by and heard that poem. It is so familiar to me, but I cannae figure out why.”

He glanced at the book in her hands, but the light was too low to read the title on the spine.

“William Blake,” she said tightly, closing the book. “I found it in one of your bookcases.”

“Are ye fond of Mr. Blake?”

She gave a small shrug. “Sometimes.”

“The bairns seem to like it.” He nodded toward the baby and the cub, then noticed the time. “Should they nae be abed by now? Or is this ye tryin’ to make them sleepy?”

An odd look fell across Agnes’s face, her gaze flitting to the door. “Truth be told, I am hiding from Iona. I know that she will be waiting for me in my chambers, and… and… and I simply cannot discuss gowns anymore. I cannot try on any more dresses. I shall go mad if I do, but she is so happy that I dare not dismay her.”

Her honesty disarmed him for a moment, a smirk lifting his lips before he could prevent it.

So, he was not the only one who had been trying to fend off Iona’s aggressive enthusiasm over the past days. Fortunately for him, however, he did not have to concern himself with matters of fashion.

“Ye cannae fall asleep here,” he told her, walking over. “Yer back will ache if ye wake up in that chair.”

She blushed a rather lovely shade of pink, though the hue was not quite as deep as it had been on the night he forgot himself. That was a color he would have done anything to see again.

“It is my hope that she will give up before long and I can sneak back into my chambers,” she explained.

He nodded and sat down on the floor, right beside the baby fox. Snout leaped into his lap and curled up in the well of his crossed legs.

Gordon did not have the heart to evict the tiny creature. Instead, he stroked the cub’s soft fur.

“Read somethin’ else,” he requested. “It’s been a while since I heard yer voice.”

Her brow furrowed. “And whose fault is that?”

“Ye’ll have to tell me.”

Her frown deepened, her lips puckering. “If you want to hear my voice, then you should not have asked for distance.”

Shaking her head and muttering something he couldn’t quite decipher, she opened the book again and began to read, regardless of what she had just said.

“Little Lamb who made thee, dost thou know who made thee, gave thee life and bid thee feed. By the stream and o’er the mead, gave thee clothing of delight, softest clothing wooly bright; gave thee such a tender voice, making all the vales rejoice!” She paused, glancing at him, blushing more furiously.

“Little Lamb who made thee. Dost thou know who made thee. Little Lamb I’ll tell thee, Little Lamb I’ll tell thee! He is called by thy name, for he calls himself a Lamb: He is meek, and he is mild, he became a little child: I a child and thou a lamb, we are called by his name. Little Lamb, God bless thee. Little Lamb, God bless thee.”

Gordon nodded slowly. “I liked the other one better.”

“Yes, well, I am not reading for you,” she remarked as Lizzy suddenly started to fuss. Her chubby little hands reached down toward Gordon, her body straining away from her aunt, her whines waking up the cub.

Instinct compelled Gordon to reach for her, though it was Agnes who released her into his hold.

“What’s all that grousin’ for, eh?” he asked, cradling her against his chest. “Did ye want yer aunt to read more poetry for ye?”

Lizzy ceased her whining and grasped curiously for his hair.

“Nay, ye cannae pull,” he warned with a smile, removing her hand before she could yank out some strands.

She wriggled in his arms and settled for a handful of his shirt instead, her chubby little legs kicking wildly. And as she did her strange little dance, she began to babble, little bursts that sounded like, “Da… Da… Da… Da.”

Gordon froze, a sharp pain shooting through his chest, right where his heart used to be, piercing straight through the high, thick walls he had built around it.

Deep down, he knew it was just the gibberish of a child who had not yet learned how to speak and had no notion of what noises she could make, but his heart wasn’t listening to logic.