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Tossing my head, I lift my chin. “Okay, good. Because it seems like you are in need of someone with an abundance of patience and kindness, who also has an attention span longer than yours.”
“I’m not sure what that's supposed to mean.” He pins me in place with his gaze.
“It’s supposed to mean that your daughter clearly needs your attention when you are here. I think that she acts out in order to make you look at her.”
He rolls his eyes. “You know an awful lot about us for a little girl who only arrived here yesterday. Is there anything else that you want to make sure that I know? Anything critical of my parenting technique?”
My cheeks redden. “No…”
Keir shoots me a hot glance and stands up, dropping several pieces of magazine to the floor.
“I think it would be wise if you didn’t attempt to put yourself into this situation. It’s complicated enough without you adding extra turmoil from your own life.”
My expression hardens. Without another word, I turn toward the staircase that I just descended and begin climbing the stairs. Keir watches me as I go, his expression stony.
How did I get myself into this situation? And more importantly, what do I have to do to get myself out again?
CHAPTERSEVEN
“Isla?” I call down the hallway.
My voice reverberates between the stonewalls and I continue forward through the gloom. Up here on the third floor of the castle, there is very little to see. No furniture, no windows to speak of, and certainly no little girls. I am about to turn around when I hear the faintest scuff against the stone floor. Pausing, I listen intently.
Silent footsteps sneak carefully across the stone floor somewhere a few yards behind me. Turning, I catch a glimpse of Isla’s wild red hair and one tattered black pant leg. If it weren’t for that, I would think I had been hearing things.
Sucking in a breath, I slipped out of my shoes and pad over to the doorway in my bare feet. Isla actually peaks her head out of the room right before I round the doorway and we both get a start. Her eyes widen and my heart is racing in my chest.
“Jesus,” I say. “Isla, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why are you hiding up here all alone?”
Her face is so expressive, instantly turning pouting. “I’m not hiding. I’m just busy.”
I briefly close my eyes, my hands forming fists for the briefest moment. I definitely don’t want Isla to see that she’s winning but it’s hard to repress my outward emotions.
Opening my eyes, I give her my most placid smile. “I’ve heard you say that before. What are you busy with?”
She shrugs. “All kinds of things. Secret things.”
Nodding slowly, I kneel down so that our eyes are almost level. “Your dad will be back today. Are you excited about that?”
She puckers her lip. “I guess so. I don’t like it when he leaves.”
“I wouldn’t either. That would make me feel isolated and like I was all by myself. Is that how it makes you feel?”
Isla’s eyes narrow on my face. “Maybe,” she shrugs. “I’m not sure.”
I know that she has to be feeling something, because I spied her crying two different times when she thought no one was looking. It’s only been four days since Keir went to Glasgow for business, but I think I have a good grasp on exactly what makes Isla tick. That is, everything that I can know from observation and in lieu of asking her questions about her mother and how she and Keir came to live here.
“Mrs. Wolf sent me to find you. She says that she has a special treat for you when you go down to eat lunch.”
Her eyes light up. “Is it Oreos?”
“It could be. Are you going to go find out?”
“Yes!” She shouts. She pivots and pushes past me, running as fast as her feet will carry her. I look after her, feeling tired from just being in her presence. That kid can really burn off some excess energy.
I head down the stairs after her, my mind sticking on one question.
Who is Isla’s mother? Where is she?
