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Ainsley settled the comforting bundle within her arms. Her daughter snuffled a bit against the ruffles of her pelisse, then nestled closer with a little yawn. Her eyelids fluttered for only a moment before the baby snores resumed.
“Told ye,” Angus said. “She kens who ye are now, like I said she would.”
“You never said that. You called me utterly hopeless on more than one occasion.”
“Aye. I can be wrong—on the rare occasion.”
“I must engrave this moment in my memory. Angus MacDonald admits he was wrong about me.”
“I wasn’t wrong about the Ainsley ye was. I was wrong about the Ainsley ye are.”
“That’s a rather murky distinction.”
“Makes perfect sense to me. Now, just sit ye quietly and let the lads worry about Lord Sneaksby. We’ll kill the bloodySassenachbastard before we let him hurt ye or Tira.”
Since she’d nursed murderous thoughts herself, she couldn’t scold Angus for actually voicing them.
“The marquess is an influential man, even given his current money problems. He could make our lives exceedingly hellish.”
“We’re used to the English tryin’ to get the best of us, lass. The Kendricks can handle one poncy marquess.”
“Yes, but—”
He put a firm hand on her arm. “Ainsley, I ken yer worried, but ye’d best let Royal take care of this. It’s his job to protect ye and Tira.”
“But I want to protect him, too.” She was terrified of Cringlewood’s vengeful nature, and dreaded what he could do to Royal.
“Ye’ve got the rest of yer life to protect him. For now, just let Royal and the lads do what they do.”
The fact that she had little standing under the law, and was almost entirely dependent on Royal and the family to protect her, was a frustrating state of affairs.
“If you say so, Grandda. But it’s hard to sit and do nothing.”
“Ye be takin’ Tira and yer old grandda for a spot of fresh air—and trustin’ Royal. I know it goes against the grain, but he won’t fail ye.”
She carefully shifted Tira and turned to smile at him. “I know, and thank you for spending time with me. I know it’s mostly about Tira, but I still appreciate it.”
“Fah. Did ye not just call me Grandda?”
Ainsley mentally blinked. “I believe I did.”
“There ye go, then. Now, just sit and enjoy the fine day while ye have the chance. The weather will be turnin’ soon enough.”
“That’s a happy thought.”
“Yer the one who married a Highlander and moved to Scotland.”
“What was I thinking?” she joked.
They sat in companionable silence until they heard raised voices behind them. Angus looked around.
“Who’s young Will talkin’ to?” he asked.
Hoisting Tira onto her shoulder, Ainsley stood and peered toward the street that fronted Kendrick House. Royal had made it clear that she was not to venture outside without an escort, not even for Tira’s daily airing in the little square. Ainsley had felt rather silly about the whole thing, with an undoubtedly armed Angus by her side, and the brawny William only yards away. The whole staff of Kendrick House was close by too.
Still, it was good to be prudent, ergo the pistol in her reticule.
“I’m not sure.” She studied William and the man in a greatcoat. “There’s a carriage right there. Maybe the man is asking for directions.”
