Page 42 of When the Laird Conquers

“I would have done anythin’ for them,” he whispered to the draft horse.

Maybe they would have had more children.

Even considering having a wife and child now, after everything, sounded ridiculous to him. Disrespectful to the memory of the two who had died through no fault of their own, their only crime being that his son had been his blood and his son’s mother had made the mistake of choosing him to lie with.

The light thud of footsteps drew his attention away from the horse. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Agnes walking toward him, carrying Lizzy in her wrap. As loath as he was to let either of them leave the safety of the castle, he had to admit that the fabric of that carrier looked rather worn.

Agnes smiled brightly at the little one, and when she pointed toward the horses, Lizzy clapped her hands clumsily. The baby’s giggles echoed toward Gordon, piercing his heart like a razor-sharp blade.

Iona was there too, and in her arms, much to Gordon’s disbelief and dismay, was that bloody fox cub.

“Shall we say farewell to Snout?” Agnes cooed to the baby.

Iona brought the tiny cub closer to Lizzy, and the little girl made an attempt to stroke the animal, which ended up being more of a light smack.

These women are all insane.

But he couldn’t argue about it now. The sooner he could get Agnes and Lizzy to the right village and back again, the sooner he could relax. Although he would be having a stern talk with Iona when he returned. She, of all people, should have known not to bring a fox into the castle when she was the one raising the chickens.

“Put that animal back in the woods as I ordered,” Gordon said crisply, casting a pointed look at the housekeeper.

Iona smiled. “I cannae, me Laird. He willnae survive. I’m goin’ to raise him and teach him nae to eat me chickens. He’ll defend them instead.”

Gordon groaned, exasperated. “And when it does eat every last one, the cost for replacin’ them will be cut from yer pay. I wash me hands of it. Do as ye please.”

The housekeeper kissed the fluffy cub between the ears and headed back inside, wearing the same triumphant grin that Agnes had displayed earlier that morning.

How was it possible that, within a household that had two female residents, both of them had decided to do what they liked?

Agnes continued toward him, clearly pleased with herself. “The poor little mite found his way back to the castle.”

“Aye, and these wheels are made of solid gold,” he muttered. “Get in the carriage, and daenae say another word if ye daenae want me to stop and throw ye both out on the road.”

Her smile didn’t fade as she stepped into the carriage and settled onto the squabs, though as he closed the door behind her, he couldn’t help but hear her mutter, “Such a kind man.”

As if him risking everything to keep her and her niece safe didn’t mean anything at all. Unless, of course, he misunderstood her tone. But he didn’t think he did.

16

Agnes suspected it was no coincidence that Gordon had chosen to ride alongside the carriage instead of inside of it with her.

Last night, he’d alluded to wanting distance. But she would not be pushed away so easily, not now that she knew what it meant to be pulled in close.

She pulled down the carriage window, struggling against the old, rusted mechanism.

“How long will it be to the village?” she asked.

“A while,” he replied gruffly.

“Is it a big village?”

She caught a flicker of annoyance on his handsome, stubbled face. Why he had ever sought to hide that face behind such a scraggly, bushy beard was beyond her. Perhaps he was embarrassed by his scars?

But she couldn’t understand that either. They were embellishments to his handsome, rugged appearance, not a detraction.

“Large enough,” he muttered.

“But there is a haberdasher?”