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“I’ll not be long.”
He turned and strode out of the room.
Come back to me…
Attie’s husband was capable of taking care of himself on the mountain and returning unscathed—but did he understand the real question she’d asked? Would the man she’d married—the man she had fallen in love with—ever return?
Delilah rose to her feet and offered Attie her hand.
“Come, sister!” she said, her voice overly bright. “Let’s see about making that dreary old hall a little more festive.”
Attie took the proffered hand.
“He will come back to you,” Delilah whispered. “Christmas is a time for appreciating what we have. And if he needs a little help, that’s what families are for. We Harts are a force to be reckoned with.”
*
Delilah let outa shriek of laughter, and Attie looked up from the pile of fir sprigs in her lap.
Fraser stood in the archway dressed in a bright green coat and matching breeches. Springs of holly hung either side of his face, suspended from a crown of antlers.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Do I make a good Yule King?”
“Papa!” Flora leaped up from the hearthrug where she’d been showing Campbell and Sebastian how to tie a holly wreath and ran to her father. “You look wonderful—doesn’t he, Sebastian?”
Sebastian nodded, his eyes wide. The deerhound lying in front of the fireplace opened one eye, then closed it again—clearly unimpressed with his master’s attire.
“What do you think, Master Sebastian?” Fraser asked. “Do you think the children will run away in fear from the Yule King, or will they realize it’s just yer uncle indulging in a bit of horseplay?” He raised his arms and let out a roar.
Sebastian scrambled toward Attie, who lifted him onto her lap.
“You’re scaring him, Papa!” Flora cried with a tone of authority that mirrored her mother’s.
“I’m sure both you and your mama will admonish me heartily,” Fraser said. “But, for now, why don’t you take your brother and cousins into the kitchen where Mrs. McLeish has a batch of freshly-baked bannocks.”
“Ooh, bannocks!” Campbell cried. He trotted over to Attie and took his cousin’s hand. “Come along, Seb, you don’t want Flora eating them all, do you?”
“Don’t you eat them all either, Campbell,” Delilah said. “They’re for the children’s party, remember? Mrs. McLeish has enough to contend with without having to make an extra batch—and I don’t want you spoiling your supper.”
Sebastian looked up at Attie, his wide expressive eyes so like his father’s. “Can I go with them, Mama?”
“Of course you can, my darling,” she said. “Why don’t you see if Francine would like one as well? She’s in the nursery with Lizzy and baby Maighread.”
The children exited the room with a clatter of excited feet, leaving Attie alone with her sister- and brother-in-law.
“He’s a fine boy, your son,” Fraser said.
Attie smiled. “That he is. He loves his sister, but I know he wishes he could spend more time with his cousins—especially Campbell.”
“Then you must visit us more often,” Delilah said. “The beauty of our estate here is that the children can run as wild as they wish, and there’s enough room for us to seek solace from the noise.” She lifted up her handiwork—a wreath fashioned from fir sprigs. “What do you think? I could add some of those dried orange segments for a splash of color.”
“It’s beautiful,” Attie said. “But are you sure you’re not working too hard?”
“Nonsense!” Delilah replied. “I’m determined to make this the best Christmas ever for the children. Last winter was particularly harsh. We lost six men in an avalanche on the mountain in February.”
Attie’s stomach clenched. “The mountain?”
“Oh, forgive me!” Delilah cried. “Devon’s in no danger. The avalanche happened after a long build-up of snow on the mountain—we hadn’t seen anything like it for years. And you know Devon—if my brother’s anything, he’s a survivor.”
