Page 44 of When the Laird Conquers

“Eventually, yes, but I didn’t realize there would be so much to explore,” she said with a grin. “It would be remiss of me not to go to every stall and shop, for if I need something later, then I will know where to come.”

He looked like he might protest, but she was already walking toward the market stalls. After spending so much time within the gloomy castle walls, even after she had opened all of the drapes and shutters, it was nice to just be outside, among people.

Not to mention the fact that she had essentially spent the past six months in self-incarceration at Aunt Tabitha’s residence, for the sake of her niece’s safety… and to preserve what little remained of Christine’s reputation.

“Och, would ye look at that!” a woman selling scones studded with currants cooed. “I havenae seen a bonnier bairn in a long while!”

Agnes blushed with delight. “I have to agree, but I’m somewhat biased.”

“I wouldnae say it if I didnae mean it,” the woman insisted, chuckling. “Look at them rosy cheeks, eh. Must get them from ye, miss. A beautiful maither and a beautiful bairn.”

Agnes considered correcting the woman but decided against it. The story was too complicated and not something a stranger needed to hear about.

“You are too kind,” she said instead, accepting the compliment.

“Can I hold her?”

Agnes thought about it, glanced back at Gordon, who was talking to a bladesmith, and scooped Lizzy out of the sling. The baby squealed with happiness as the baker took her and began to bounce her on her hip, singing a silly little tune as she did.

Agnes knew she was not without the shapely curves of womanhood, but this baker of buttery scones had an ample bosom and wondrous, doughy hips that must have been a marvelous comfort to a baby who loved to be cozy.

As if to prove the point, Lizzy immediately cuddled into the woman.

“Och, I’ll be goin’ home to me husband tonight saying, ‘Daenae ye think we should have just one more?’ Ye forget how precious they are when they’re wee,” the baker sighed, pressing a kiss to Lizzy’s soft hair.

A small group of women from the other stalls had rushed forward, all of them sighing and cooing in agreement.

Soon enough, Lizzy was being passed around like the alms bowl at church and loving every moment of it, her babble and squeals filling the air.

“This lassie isnae the Laird’s, is she?” one nosy woman asked as she gently stroked Lizzy’s shock of red hair.

Agnes snorted involuntarily. “No, she isn’t, although he has said that he will adopt her when we are married.”

Gordon was just out of earshot, which was probably a good thing. But Agnes had said that she wanted people to believe in the betrothal, and he had agreed to the fake arrangement, so he could not exactly scold her for embellishing the truth, could he?

A collective gasp rippled through the women.

“Ye’re goin’ to marry him?” one asked.

“Och, lass, ye shouldnae do that,” another advised. “Ye’re a pretty wee thing. Ye could have any lad ye like. Any laird ye like, I daenae doubt. Can ye nae marry an English one?”

“There’s naught wrong with ours,” someone else interjected. “Might do him some good to have a wife.”

“Naught wrong? Ye must’ve been drinkin’ yer own supply, lass,” another remarked. “He’s probably sent for an English lass ‘cause he kens no Scottish lass will have him.”

The baker frowned. “There were some English lads in the village nae so long ago. Are they family of yers, come for the weddin’? Are ye to be married soon?”

A faint chill beetled down the back of Agnes’s neck, to think of her pursuers being so close, perhaps standing exactly where she was standing. But how long ago was “nae so long ago,” and where were those Englishmen now?

“Aye, they said they were lookin’ for a lass and a bairn,” someone said.

The baker frowned. “Do yer maither and faither ken ye’re here, lass? Ye havenae been kidnapped or anythin’, have ye?”

“No, no, of course not,” Agnes rushed to reply. “I am here of my own volition; my family is well aware, and I am looking forward to the union. Those Englishmen must have been searching for someone else. It is… rather fashionable these days to run off to Scotland. It has been in all of the scandal sheets that this is where young ladies can find husbands, but I… um… already had this arranged before I arrived.”

She had no idea if the women believed her or not, but they seemed content to accept her explanation as they doted on Lizzy some more.

“I wonder if our lassies should go the other way,” a woman teased, breaking the tension.