Page 65 of When the Laird Conquers

He pushed back his chair and walked to the door, opening it wide to reveal a ball of brownish-red fur that halted in the midst of charging the door, and the more surprising presence of one giggling baby.

Puzzled, he glanced down the hallway left and right, but could see no one around who might have placed Lizzy there in the company of a wild fox cub.

Could she have crawled here by herself?

He had no idea at what age babies did things, but he supposed it wasn’t impossible. Then again, if Lizzy had crawled all the way here, then who was supposed to be watching her, and had let her out of their sight?

Not having to think twice about it, he scooped them both up off the floor and, carrying one under each arm, took them back to his desk. There, with Lizzy on his knee and the cub climbing up onto his shoulder, he opened the ledger and pretended it was a book of stories.

Taking another look around to make sure no one was watching or listening, he continued the story from the other night. “And the wee, fierce lassie glared up at the bewildered dragon and said, ‘If ye’re goin’ to eat me, ye neednae bother. There’s nae a bit of meat on me bones, and I promise that if ye try, I’ll stick in yer throat out of spite, and ye’ll never be rid of me…’”

25

Where did they go?

Agnes rushed along the hallway, her heart thundering wildly in her chest, checking every room she passed through, though she knew neither the fox cub nor Lizzy had the height or dexterity to open doors. Nevertheless, she had a fear that they might have gone through an open door and somehow closed it behind them, trapping themselves inside.

The crawling was a relatively new discovery for Lizzy, more of a determined drag really, but Agnes had only drifted off for a moment. She hadn’t meant to, but the last couple of nights had offered no hope of good rest, and she was beginning to suffer the fatigue of snatched moments of sleep.

What if Snout has eaten her? What if he has bitten her and she is bleeding out somewhere? Oh, heavens, what was I thinking, leaving her on the floor with a wild animal? Christine would never have done such a stupid thing.

It was the standard by which she judged everything she did: her sister. How could she not, when Christine had always seemed more capable, more mature, and better at everything without making anyone feel bad?

She can’t have gone far.

She skidded to a halt outside Gordon’s study. The door stood halfway open, concealing her enough that she could look upon the scene within without—hopefully—being noticed.

Gordon was telling stories again, his handsome face animated as he performed the voices, his strong arm securely wrapped around Lizzy as he turned the page of what looked like a ledger and very much not like a book. Then, there was the fox cub on his shoulder, so content, so safe in his company that he had fallen asleep there.

What was more, Gordon was deliberately not moving that shoulder, remaining perfectly still so as not to disturb the sleeping animal.

“The tiny warrior princess brandished her wooden stick, wavin’ it back and forth most menacingly,” he said. “The dragon laughed, for he’d never seen a warrior braver or more ridiculous in all his five-hundred years. And when he laughed, smoke plumed out of his nostrils. The little girl huffed and told him, ‘Daenae go roasting me, either, else I’ll stuff yer nose with me boots.’ Which, of course, only made the dragon laugh more, and…”

Agnes frowned, completely at a loss. How could this man be so cruel, when he was making up stories for a baby and a fox cub? Surely, if he was such a beast, Snout wouldn’t feel safe with him, and nor would Lizzy.

“The dragon felt he was about to sneeze,” Gordon continued. “He, too, had decided that he didnae want to roast the little mousie, but he always unleashed fire when he sneezed and so⁠—”

Agnes braced herself and walked in, her cheeks hot as the sight of him conjured up vivid memories.

“I am sorry they bothered you,” she said, somewhat disappointed to have to interrupt the story. “I lost sight of them for a moment. Lizzy has recently started to crawl, and she is surprisingly quick.”

Gordon stared at her, his face unreadable. “They werenae botherin’ me.”

“That can’t be true. I am sure you are very busy.” She approached the desk to take Lizzy from him.

With some reluctance, he lifted the baby and passed her over, their hands brushing for just a moment. It was like lightning, shooting through Agnes’s skin, pouring fuel onto the fire of the heat that rushed into her face.

Indeed, it did not help that he looked so… at ease. His tenderness toward Lizzy and the cub did something strange to Agnes’s insides. She doubted there was anything more attractive than a man who was good with children, unafraid to look silly in order to entertain them.

“Iona told me of the festivities you are planning,” she said in a rush, hoping he would not notice any color in her face. “A dance should be a… welcome thing.”

He closed the ledger and looked toward the fireplace, avoiding her gaze. “Invite anyone ye please, though ye’ll have to be quick if ye want yer aunt to attend.”

Even if the journey were much shorter, there was no way Aunt Tabitha would choose to attend. She had not even responded to Agnes’s letters yet, although that might have had more to do with the distance between them.

“That is very kind,” she replied stiffly, “but unnecessary. I have no desire to invite anyone from home.”

He shrugged and looked at her at last, his expression blank. “As ye prefer. As Iona keeps tellin’ me, there should be a couple of English lasses in attendance anyway. I’m sure ye can make friends with them.”