Page 137 of Ghost of the Ton

He blinked and his eyes blurred with moisture as she handed the baby back to Iona. When his vision cleared he saw his mother staring at him, and her lips moved as she mouthed something.

Show her, ye great big arse.

“Mia, would ye come with me?” he said, offering his hand. She stared at it, then, at length, placed her hand in his. He steered her out of the chamber.

“About fecking time,” Iona grumbled as she pulled a face. “Ye great big fool!”

He led his wife down a flight of stairs, then along the passageway toward the back of the castle building until they reached a thick, arched oak door engraved with Celtic knots. There he paused, tempering an onset of shyness.

What if she didn’t like it?

“What’s this?” Mia asked.

Unable to respond, his throat tight, Hamish opened the door and led her inside.

The room had been cleaned from floor to ceiling, the stones almost gleaming in the light of the sun that caught the walls, picking out the crystals in the granite. One wall was covered with shelves that contained an array of jars, arranged in order of size, and a large wooden chest almost filled the opposite wall—each drawer Hamish knew to be filled with freshly laundered sheets and bandages. The fireplace, which had gone unused since his da’s passing, was swept and laid, ready for lighting, with a pile of logs stacked to one side. An iron pot, which Hamish had polished yesterday until he could almost see his face in it, was suspended over the fireplace, and a thick wooden table dominated the center of the room.

The chamber was as close as Hamish could get to replicating Mia’s parlor at Riverview Cottage.

“Take a look,” he said, pulling her farther into the room. “What do ye think?”

Mia glanced at him, a slight frown furrowing her forehead.

He gestured to the shelves. “Rory helped me with those, and Maisie cleaned the jars all ready for ye to use.”

She approached the shelves and ran her fingertips over the jars.

“The cabinet came from the old log store,” he said. “But it’s cleaned up well and only needed minor repairs. Open the drawers!”

She glanced up, and he cursed his eagerness. Devil’s ballocks, he sounded like a wee lad desperate to earn his ma’s praise. And he was desperate—for a sign of approval from the woman he loved.

Was this how the eagle felt when he’d built an eyrie for his mate, collecting twigs and branches to make it sound and feathers and heather to keep it warm, then perching himself on the edge, tempering his pride at his handiwork while he waited for her judgment—not only of the nest he’d built for her, but of his suitability as a mate?

Mia approached the cabinet and pulled open the top drawer, where rolls of bandages were stacked in a neat pattern.

“Maisie made the bandages. She knows how ye like them. She said I ought to…”

His voice trailed off as she turned her gaze on him, and he held his breath.

Would she reject him, or think him too forward?

“O-of course, ye’re under no obligation,” he said, rushing the words out to avoid her disapproval if she thought he sought to imprison her. “I know ye can be a doctor anywhere. But ye can also be a doctor here, among people who care for ye, who need ye. Y-ye can still leave, if ye wish it, b-but if ye wish to stay a little longer, this room is yers.”

“And—my medicines?”

“They’re still in yer chamber. But there’s room for them here, see?”

He pointed to the empty spaces on the shelves.

“It’s yer choice, Mia. I didnae wish to choose for ye. It’s a gift, this room. For ye. Whether ye accept it will not change how much I love ye. We can still use what’s here—Iona’s learned much from ye, and Maisie’s offered to help her. Well, what she said was that if I was so foolish as to let ye go, she’ll use it to the best of her abilities. Rory told her she shouldn’t speak to her laird so, but I said to Rory that she had every right to, seein’ as she’s been such a friend to ye. And perhaps wee Mairi might want to learn about medicines and herbs when she grows up. Of course, I want ye to be here to teach her, but if ye’re not, I…”

He paused, his heart hammering against his chest as she raised her hand.

Had he said too much? Was she angry—or the room not to her liking?

“What did you say, Hamish?” she said quietly.

“Och, I know she’s a wee bairn, but Mairi will be a bright lass, I’m sure of it, with Iona as her ma, and I’m sure she’d want to—”