Page 30 of When the Laird Conquers

A soft tune drifted into the bedchamber, a melodic voice singing a lullaby that he knew so well. The song of his childhood, interwoven with the rosy memories he had of his mother.

Turning back, his gaze settled on the window that Agnes still hadn’t closed. With a frown creasing his brow, he edged toward the sound and peered out.

Agnes was not down below, where he had leaned to listen to her laughter last night, but past the broken border of a wooden fence, in the gardens that had once been magnificent. They were overgrown now, unkempt and tangled up with weeds and briars, a mossy fountain no longer spouting any water.

In the center, standing on a scrubby patch of grass, Agnes sang sweetly and rocked Lizzy as if they were dancing. The baby wasn’t giggling, just staring into her aunt’s eyes as if she was the most wonderful thing in all the world, a bright smile on her chubby-cheeked face.

Where did ye learn that song?

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if that might be enough to keep the all-too-familiar ache at bay. It started like a thorn scratch to the heart, then burned like a nettle sting, and if he did not push the feeling down in time, it would become a pain so intense that he would not be able to bear it, as if someone had wrapped their hands around his heart and squeezed with all their might.

Nay, I’m nae lettin’ it take hold of me again. I’m nae dwellin’ on the past. I’m nae wishin’ to turn back time, to have what I’ll never have again.

Fury flared in the spot where his sadness clawed.

“Ye should never have come here, ruinin’ everythin’,” he snarled. “What right do ye have?”

He had spent too many years carefully constructing impenetrable walls around himself, drawing the curtains on anything that could remind him of the past, and this woman had just let the sunshine in, threatening everything he had built.

Jaw set in a hard line, teeth gritted, he stormed out of the airy bedchamber, away from the lullaby that buzzed in his head and the sweet sight that burned in his chest.

This was not her domain to do as she pleased. It seemed she needed a reminder that she remained here at his discretion, and there were clearly a few rules that he had forgotten to mention the other night.

“Did you like that?” Agnes chuckled as she spun around in a circle.

Lizzy squealed in delight.

“Shall I sing that song again?” Agnes asked, dancing a little jig.

The baby babbled in a language all her own, though Agnes liked to imagine that she was saying, “Yes, Auntie Agnes. Sing to me again!”

It was hard to believe that one day, this little girl would be able to walk and talk all by herself. And one day, even later than that, she would be fully grown, with a life of her own, maybe children of her own, and all of this would seem so long ago.

“Don’t grow up too fast, do you hear me?” she whispered, kissing the baby’s head. “You take your time.”

Smiling, she began singing the first notes of the lullaby that Iona had taught her, but the softly sung words soon turned into a cautious hum. Someone was watching her. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel his presence behind her, igniting a familiar shiver—that tremor of fear and anticipation she had felt in her dream.

He sought me out.

After all he had said at dinner about her staying out of his way, and his abrupt departure, she had assumed it would be some time before she saw him again. If ever. Yet there he was, breaking his own rule. Abiding by hers, that they should be seen together.

Her heart beat faster, her mind filling up with all of the sultry things he had whispered in her ear, his hand around her throat, making her look at him… as if she needed an excuse. Her skin tingled, a warm rush flowing in her veins.

It was like she had no control over her own body, that power firmly in his hands.

Taking a steadying breath, she turned around.

There he was, just as she had known he would be. Not that he looked pleased to have found her, what with his eyes narrowed.

“Welcome home,” she said. “I trust you had an interesting day?”

He had discovered the open curtains; I would wager everything I have on it.

Why else would he have sought her out like this? She would have been a fool to believe there was another reason, a more exciting reason. Yet, for just a second, she had been a fool, swept away in her wild imagination.

“Doesnae feel much like home,” Gordon replied coolly. “What did ye do, Sunshine?”

Sunshine?