Page 52 of When the Laird Conquers

He felt a little strange about encouraging her to sleep when it wasn’t late, but all he had to do was conjure her tired, heavy-lidded expression, and he knew it was what she needed.

As for what he needed…

“Go on. Go and tend to yer duties,” he instructed the housekeeper. “I can manage from here. But if ye find yerself in the kitchens, somethin’ to eat wouldnae go amiss.”

Iona chuckled and went to the door. “I’ll bring ye up some stew, me Laird.” She paused on the threshold. “Daenae wake the bairn.”

“I daenae plan to,” Gordon replied, glancing over at the crib. “I’m just goin’ to stand guard over her, so she kens she’s safe.”

A soft, sad smile lifted Iona’s wrinkled lips. “I’m sure she’ll sleep well, just sensin’ that ye’re there.”

After what had happened today, and Agnes’s anguished confessions, he didn’t intend to allow any harm to come to the little girl ever again. No matter how many Englishmen he had to kill to keep her safe. Indeed, even if it meant killing the one Englishman that Agnes had asked him not to.

Agnes awoke in a cold sweat, breathing hard, though whatever dream had plagued her had not followed her into the waking world.

She pushed herself up from the soft mattress and stared around in momentary confusion, her gaze landing on the smoldering fireplace. It did not resemble that of home, nor of her new chambers, reminding her that she had gone to sleep in Gordon’s room again.

What on earth did he put in that bath?

Her body felt like a lead weight, her head foggy, both restless and rested somehow. Beyond the shutters, she had no notion of what time of day it was, and it was too dark in the room to read the clock on the mantelpiece.

She could easily have leaned back and descended into sleep again, but something had chilled her. Something that lurked in the realm of slumber.

“Well, that is that then, isn’t it?” she muttered groggily.

There was no possible way that she could drift off again, not if something unpleasant awaited her when she closed her eyes.

She pushed back the coverlets and climbed out of bed, taking a housecoat off a stand by the door as she headed out. It was too large for her, yet too small to belong to Gordon, but she rather enjoyed the swamped sensation as she padded along the hallway.

Her plan was to poke her head into Lizzy’s room to see how the new, devilishly handsome nursemaid was faring, and then she would either offer to take over or head downstairs to get something to eat.

Although, really, it was pure curiosity that drove her toward the nursery.

Passing the windows, still undraped, she discovered that night had indeed fallen over this corner of Scotland. A twilight hue, suggesting it was not yet terribly late. Either that, or she had somehow slept until dawn and that inky tinge was dawn coming.

Surely not.

She quickened her pace, not caring for the shadows that wavered in the corners and recesses of the drafty castle.

At length, she reached the chamber that she was supposed to be sleeping in and slipped in through the main door. On tiptoe, she approached the adjoining door, left slightly ajar, and peeked through it. There was every chance that Gordon had already heard her coming, but she hoped he had not, eager to see him in a less guarded situation.

“And the great dragon roared, ‘What are ye doin’ in me cave, little mouse?’” she heard him say in a growl.

What on earth is he doing? He will terrify my niece with that⁠—

Lizzy burst into burbling giggles, and Agnes’s jaw dropped.

“And the wee lassie looked right into the dragon’s one amber eye and said, ‘I’m nae a mousie, ye great oaf! I’m a lassie! Have ye never seen a lassie before? For one thing, I daenae have a tail, and I daenae squeak about.’ Well, ye can imagine what the dragon thought of that,” Gordon continued.

Agnes covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh. Of all the things she had expected to find, she had not expected to hear Gordon making up stories for her niece. Nor had she expected him to be quite so enthusiastic about the voices.

Although she rather liked his commanding heroine.

“In truth, the dragon didnae ken what to make of the strange wee creature that had come into his cave, brandishing her wee sword and callin’ him an oaf,” Gordon said. “It was the first time anyone had visited him in a long, long time, so he’d forgotten how to behave with company. Nor could he remember what to do with humans. Was he supposed to eat them or offer them food? He kent he was meant to eat mousies, but this creature claimed she wasnae one, leavin’ him quite confused.”

Deciding she ought to intervene before anyone got eaten, Agnes knocked gently on the door and stepped inside.

Gordon sat on the floor beneath the window, with Lizzy in his lap… and a surprisingly familiar, furry creature fast asleep at his feet.