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She scrunched up her little nose. “Are you going to marry Mabel?”
Warmth bloomed in his chest, and Mabel’s face turned scarlet. “Pippa,” she hissed. “You mustn’t say such things.”
The little sprite sighed, exhausted with her elders and their games—or so it appeared.
“I will see you shortly,” Mabel said, slipping past Mac and down the steps. Her scent drifted in a faint cloud behind her, delicately charming him. He wanted to inhale deeper, but Pippa’s shrewd gaze was fixed on him.
“What are your intentions, Mr. Mac?” she asked, crossing her dainty arms over her chest.
“My intentions?”
She nodded.
Mac chuckled. He’d never heard such a grown-up question from such a small child. “I would like you to call me Mac. Most everyone does.”
She nodded, but her eyes remained narrowed.
“Are you joining us on our walk today?” he asked.
“No,” she said, sighing. “I must finish my studies.”
“What a good, young pupil you must be.” He stepped forward, crouching low, much as he’d seen Mabel do. “Do you like to ride, Pippa?”
She pulled back, slightly narrowing her eyes. “Yes, sometimes.”
“Would you like to go for a ride with me later today?”
Her face lit up. “Yes! With pleasure.”
“Good. I shall return for you later this afternoon. But only if you complete the tasks your sister has set out for you.”
Determination set over her young brow. Would Mabel’s daughters look so very much like her, as her sister did? Mac hoped so.
Pippa returned to her table to work, and Mac went to his room. He’d forgotten why he’d come up here in the first place. Mabel and her conversation had completely distracted him. But he didn’t mind. She was worth the distraction any day.
