Page 25 of When the Laird Conquers

The baby giggled, her hands flailing around, trying to grab Agnes’s hair. And as the next raspberry unleashed a fresh burst of merriment from her, Agnes could not help but giggle in return.

No matter what happened or what she dreamed about or how cold and dismissive Gordon might be, as long as Lizzy was safe enough to keep laughing like this, then Agnes knew she would never have a reason to be melancholy.

Lizzy had gotten her through Christine’s death, and she would get her through whatever was to come, too.

“Regardless of how grumpy that man might be, this is going to work,” Agnes whispered, smiling.

It has to.

Gordon halted abruptly as laughter drifted out into the crisp night air. His head snapped up toward the open window two floors above the path where he patrolled, for though he had meant to spend most of the night in his tower, duty had called him away.

“I cannot be stopped!” Agnes’s voice rang out, more high-pitched than usual. “No, I cannot!”

An odd sound followed a second later, the sound he used to make as a boy by pressing his lips to the back of his hand and blowing. A noise that used to make his only friend laugh without fail.

Laughter exploded out of the window once more, the unmistakable sound of a baby’s shrieking giggle.

She shouldnae leave that window open at all.

He frowned, uncomfortable with the memories that those childish sounds and laughter were dredging up from the mire of his brain. Indeed, he had half a mind to shout up to her to close the window and return to bed at once.

But who was she disturbing, really? The barracks were on the other side of the castle, and the men sleeping there could sleep through anything except their commander’s shout.

He leaned against the wall, listening. He couldn’t help it. The sound of Agnes and Lizzy’s blended laughter was too compelling, inspiring in him a strengthened desire to protect them both. He might have lost his ability to laugh, but he secretly hoped that they never did.

He was so invested in the giggles that he didn’t hear footsteps approaching until it was too late to make it look like he wasn’t just standing there, listening.

“A grand sound, is it nae?”

Gordon turned to find Iona smirking, a jar tucked in her arm.

“What?” he asked, annoyed to have been caught.

The housekeeper chuckled. “The sound of joy, me Laird. Those lasses gigglin’. It’s nae a sound we hear too often around here.”

He squinted at her. Was laughter really so rare at the castle? Was joy such a novelty?

Fine, he supposed it was, but was that really so important? It was his duty to ensure that the Buchlann soldiers were trained and ready for anything, to keep the clan prosperous, to facilitate trade with allies, to maintain the safety of his people. But it was not his job to bother about what amused them or how much joy they had in their lives. That was for them to manage.

“This is a castle for warriors, nae gigglers,” he said gruffly, not caring to explain himself.

Iona gave a sad smile. “But I remember when it was both, me Laird. I remember when these halls were filled and every room had a purpose instead of standin’ empty.”

“And I cannae turn back time, Iona,” he replied, his tone sharp. “Ye’re nae the only one who would if they could.”

Although that was not true for everything. Just moments he wished he could change.

“I ken that, me Laird,” Iona began. “But perhaps⁠—”

“Ye clearly have somewhere to be. I suggest ye get on with it. Goodnight,” he muttered, continuing down the path that surrounded the castle, taking himself as far from those joyful sounds as he could.

10

Amisty morning had settled over the castle, a grey world stretching out toward the sea, adding a whole new layer to the gloomy oppression of the place. Indeed, Agnes was half-tempted to just copy her betrothed and pull the drapes, isolating herself in her room with some candles and a book.

It took Lizzy’s whimpering to motivate her to clamber out of bed and head out in search of breakfast for the two of them: the wet nurse for Lizzy, something fresh and delicious for Agnes.

She was most of the way down the infernal staircase when she decided that rather than face crossing paths with the man of her dreams in the lesser hall, she would take herself to the kitchens instead.