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“Yes, things got a bit complicated there, but you’ll simply have to trust me. Keeping Ainsley safe from the Marquess of Cringlewood will keep Tira safe, too.”
Angus frowned over that for a few moments, then nodded. “Ah, well, anyone named Cringlewood is bound to be a scaly one, so I’m with ye, lad. Ye know that.”
“Then you need to be a little more patient with Ainsley, Grandda. She’s doing her best with Tira.”
“Doing her best is one way to put it. The lass has been that fashed these last few days, trying to manage the bairn.”
Tira had been particularly fussy these last few days, suffering through both a new tooth and a case of the sniffles. It was a mild case, to be sure, but enough to send Ainsley into a quiet frenzy, as if something awful might happen if she let Tira out of her sight. His poor wife had spent most of the past two days and nights in the nursery, driving everyone batty, including the nursemaid.
Angus had been the only one with consistent success in getting Tira to calm down and sleep. That fact had done nothing to improve Ainsley’s mood, and Royal feared she was on the edge of an emotional explosion.
Unfortunately, Angus was particularly efficient tinder to her spark.
“I repeat, if you could muster a little patience to allow her to sort it out, I would be grateful,” Royal said. “Ainsley has had a difficult time of it and needs our support.”
“And ye love her, don’t ye, lad?” Angus said with a sly wink. “Nay, don’t try to deny it. I’ve read ye well ever since ye were a bairn with a full nappie.”
The average schoolroom dunce could probably have deduced that Royal was madly in love with his wife. “I could never pull the wool over your eyes, could I, Grandda?”
“Does the lass ken how you feel about her?”
And therein lay the irony. Yes, she knew Royal was smitten with her, and had been for a long time. But love was different. What he felt for Ainsley was deep and abiding, something that would survive the ending of the world and beyond.
“She knows I care for her,” he said, as if it didn’t really matter.
When the Louis XIV clock on the sideboard chimed out the hour, Royal frowned. He’d expected Ainsley to join them for tea at least twenty minutes ago. Since she’d hardly touched her lunch—which was highly unusual for her—she must be famished.
“Speaking of yer missus—” Angus started.
“Grandda!” Royal said, exasperated.
His grandfather rolled his eyes. “Fine, then. Speaking of herladyship, will she be gracin’ us with her presence for tea?”
Royal hauled himself to his feet. “If you would keep an eye on Tira, I’ll go—”
He paused as the door opened and Ainsley hurried in, fussing with her cuffs and tugging them into place. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I closed my eyes for a few minutes and fell asleep. I’m entirely crumpled, but I didn’t want to take the time to change and leave you waiting.”
Royal glanced at her pale blue muslin dress, which displayed nary a wrinkle. Then again, no dress of Ainsley’s would have the temerity to wrinkle without her permission.
“Och, we don’t stand on ceremony when it’s just us,” Angus said in a gruff tone that for him passed as friendly. “If ye came down in yer dressing gown we wouldna care.”
Ainsley cast him a wary glance, but quickly shifted her notice to Tira wriggling around on the blanket. “Should she be down on the floor? Isn’t it too drafty?”
Royal and Angus both looked at the roaring blaze in the hearth. “It’s quite warm in here,” Royal said. “She’ll be fine.”
“But she’s just getting over a cold,” Ainsley said. “Her nose was still runny this morning.”
“Nae, she’s just breakin’ a tooth, lass,” Angus said. “Sometimes that makes them sniffly.”
Ainsley scowled. “How can teething make a baby sniffly?”
“Royal was the same when he was a wee bairn. Every time he broke through a tooth he kicked up a grand fuss, just like Tira. Takes after her father, she does.”
Ainsley fortunately refrained from pointing out the obvious flaw in that theory.
“And it’s a very mild day out, love,” Royal added. “There’s hardly a breeze off the loch, so no drafts. In fact, I was thinking of opening a window to let in some fresh air.”
“Fresh Highland air never hurt anyone,” Angus said as he relit his pipe.
