Page 17 of An Outlaw’s Desire

His conscience nudged the door to the past open wider, to recollections of the willowy maiden who’d stolen his heart: beautiful, unforgettable Blythe.

His gaze shifted to the snow-covered field by the castle. Moonlight brushed the stone circle. A powerful stirring of remorse ran through him. In the whisper of the wind, he heard Blythe’s sighs as he’d kissed her within those standing stones.

Strange, how the ancient site seemed to be calling to him now; as if he’d kept a tiny piece of it within his soul.

With near-silent footfalls, he left the trees. Keeping to the darkest shadows, he headed across the field. Might as well check that Lord Montgomery still posted guards at the stone circle.

Chapter Three

“’Tis a lovely little sparrow.” Leaning back against the pillows on her bed, her arms around Clarine, Blythe kissed the girl’s hair. “’Twill be perfect for our surprise.”

The child swooped the cloth bird through the air. “Chirp. Chirp.” The fabric wings, hanging on by clumsy stitches, appeared ready to fall off. Clarine had devoted much of the afternoon to making the ornament: cutting the shape out of felt, stitching the eyes and beak, sewing the pieces together, and plumping the bird into the right shape by stuffing it with down from an old pillow. The child had found so much joy in the project, Blythe hadn’t wanted to diminish her happiness by fixing the flaws in her handiwork.

“I could make a whole flock of sparrows,” Clarine said.

“Indeed, you could.” Blythe smiled. “’Twill mean a lot of sewing.”

Nodding, the girl switched the bird to her left hand and swooped it back. “I might make some robins too, and a few jays.”

Blythe chuckled. “We will be overrun with birds.”

The girl looked up. “Do you not like my idea?”

Blythe hugged the child tighter. “Oh, I do.”

“Good. I could start—”

“Aye, first thing on the morrow.”

Clarine pouted.

“’Tis growing late,” Blythe said gently. “You need to sleep.”

“I do not like sleeping. ’Tis boring.”

Blythe fought not to grin. One of her favorite pastimes was to read long into the night and sleep late the following morning. Clarine was still learning to read, but if Blythe was right, the girl would grow up to share her passion for books. Clarine had enjoyed flipping through the tome Blythe had borrowed from Lord Montgomery’s collection.

“Mayhap tonight,” Blythe murmured, “you will have a marvelous dream.”

“About birds?”

“All kinds of birds.”

Clarine’s shoulders rose and fell on a heavy sigh. “All right.”

The child climbed down off the bed, and Blythe followed. After leaving the cozy nest of bedding and pillows, the chamber seemed cold, despite the blaze in the hearth.

Mayhap she was just weary. She’d been unable to dismiss the misgiving that had weighed upon her since she’d waved goodbye to Rosetta and the others earlier. However, if she felt chilled, Clarine no doubt did too. Blythe would hate for the little girl to be unwell at Christmas.

“Why do you have the blanket?” the child asked.

“Let me show you.” Blythe draped it around the little girl’s shoulders then tugged it over her head to hide her face. “There. How is that? Are you nice and warm?”

Clarine giggled. “I cannot see.”

“Ah. Like a baby starling trying to fly in the dark.”

“Aye!” Clarine clearly liked thinking of herself as a young bird.