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CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Home stood tall ahead of Laird McKay as he rode, bearing down the slopes of the land. Despite the dull appearance of the castle, he had grown up within its walls and loved it.
The sun was still not shining brightly, which pleased him as he'd already checked on the sick farms so now he had time togo through the clan's financial records. But as he rode, all he could think about was his wife.
Amelia. Despite how eagerly he rode for home, he hadn't missed her. It was her cooking. The woman could certainly fill his stomach!
Then there were the times when she probed him more than any other woman had. She would not remain silent and endure any treatment she deemed unjust, which pleased him. The people of the clan would benefit greatly from her.
Jonan was not disappointed when lunch was served. He suspected Nora had a hand in the meal because it was foreign to him. And the smell was divine.
Seems to be a stew, he thought to himself as he swallowed a spoonful. It had a mild, herby taste that he enjoyed. He devoured the meal in a flash. He contemplated savoring its flavor but decided against it. It tasted wonderful, but his thoughts were elsewhere..
Perhaps, she has broken her fast already.
When the door opened, his gaze was drawn to it, but it was only a footman.
When the door opened again, Jonan couldn't help but look back. Callan was holding a large plate of food and coming to sit beside him.
“Nae a word?” Jonan asked dryly.
“Figured ye were out to see the farmers. Either way, ye cannae blame me. Our lady has entrapped me with her meals,” Callan said with an exaggerated sigh.
“So, ye break yer fast for the second time?”
“Nae. I missed breakfast hour. I was, er… occupied.” He grinned.
Jonan knew what the look meant. “Which wench graced yer bed?”
Callan laughed. “One of the chambermaids. She’s made eyes at me since she began working here.”
Jonan remained silent. Instead, he focused on the tasks at hand. It was simple for himto find motivation to keep working as their luck was finally turning around.
“Things are lookin’ prosperous for the clan,” Jonan said thoughtfully.
“Aye, milaird. I reckon there would be plenty for the clan when harvest comes,” Callan agreed. “The momentum is good for the men. When we train in the mornings, it is as if they have renewed their energies. There are rumors spreadin’ around that yer new bride might be the blessing that has saved us all.”
Jonan was speechless becausehe had had the same thought, butrefused to entertain it. She, like him, was a pawn forced into marriage.
"Where is Leah?" he asked, pretending to ignore Callan's words and muchtoo arrogant to acknowledge that his new bride might be special.
“I shall fetch a maid to get her at once, milaird,” the footman said. Before long, a rumble came from the stairway.
“Papa!” Jonan heard before he saw his daughter.
Leah ran up to him, a bright smile on her face and gowndrenched in water at the helms. He extended his arms to embrace her, lifting her off the ground.
“Ye had a wonderful day, nae?” he asked and she wrapped her little arms around his neck.
In recent times, Jonan had not been so openly affectionate to his daughter, but he enjoyed her hug, nonetheless. Her little arms conveyed the love she had for him.
Jonan lifted her and set her on his lap.
“Hello, little lass,” Callan smiled.
“Uncle Callan!” Leah beamed.
The door opened to reveal Amelia. “Welcome home, my lord.”
