Page 94 of When the Laird Conquers

She ignored him and took a closer look at the painting, pointing to the shadowy figure behind the reading chair. “I hope that’s nae ye, me Laird.”

“It’s just the shadows,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

She pursed her lips. “Hmm… well, where are ye? Ye should be there too.” Her fingertip came within an inch of the still-wet paint. “Ye should be here, at her side, in the light.”

He gently took hold of her wrist and moved her hand away from the paint before it could be smudged. “Was there somethin’ ye wanted, Iona, or did ye just want to complain about guests and cakes?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the painting from a different angle.

The housekeeper was right. He should be there, at his wife’s side, in the light instead of being the one outside the room or shrouded in the dark.

Had he not spent enough time in the dark?

“Actually, aye,” Iona replied. “The fox is sick. Her Ladyship doesnae ken if he’s eaten somethin’ he shouldnae have or somethin’ worse, but she’s up in her chambers now, tendin’ to him. She’s been up there for hours.”

“Has anyone been sent for?” Gordon was up off his stool in an instant.

Iona shrugged. “Who can be sent for, for a fox cub?”

“I’m goin’ to the village to fetch the healer,” he declared, setting down his brushes. “I daenae care if the whole clan thinks me mad; I willnae let anythin’ happen to that cub.”

He hurried out of the room.

Nor will I let anythin’ else break me wife’s heart.

36

Sitting cross-legged beside the fireplace in the nursery, Lizzy fast asleep in her cradle, Agnes gently stroked the slumbering fox cub.

The healer had just departed, having given the little fox an array of tinctures and powders and tonics. It was obvious that it had all been very strange to her to treat a fox cub, but she had not said a word about it.

“Will he be all right?” Agnes had asked.

The healer had smiled. “If it’s what I think it is, then he should be. Me own dog ate some poisonous berries when he was a pup, and he’s just turned twelve years old.”

Still, Agnes couldn’t quieten her fear that Snout might not make it through the night. The cub had become so dear to her, and to Lizzy, that it would break her. Indeed, Gordon had been right when he had said they were a family in their own way, the three of them and the fox.

She could not bear the thought of losing someone else.

A light rap on the door made her lift her head.

“How is he?” Gordon asked, leaning against the jamb.

“He finally accepted some food and water, and his breathing is steady now,” she replied. “He’s not whimpering anymore either. The healer thinks he will be all right, but… he is so small.”

Gordon moved toward her and sat down right there on the hearth rug, reaching out his hand to lightly stroke the tiny creature. “Small, aye, but he’s strong like the rest of his family. Strong like ye, lass. He can handle whatever this is, and he will survive it.” His throat bobbed. “He wouldnae let ye down by abandonin’ ye when ye need him.”

She frowned. “Are we still talking about Snout?”

“Of course we are,” he said, with a wry smile. “Lass, if he can survive bein’ dropped into a cold lake by a bird and Lizzy batterin’ his head instead of strokin’ him, he can survive this.”

Agnes glanced down at the cub, watching how tenderly Gordon was petting him, and prayed with everything she had that he was right.

The motion of being carried woke Agnes with a start, her eyes fluttering open to find Gordon’s face so close to her own, his strong arms beneath her, carrying her to the bed.

“What are you doing?” she protested.

He looked at her. “Ye fell asleep beside the fire. I thought ye’d be more comfortable in yer bed.”