Page 34 of Owned by the Scarred Laird

The nursery smelled of warm milk and damp woodsmoke.

Chloe stepped over the threshold, and Mrs. Donnan looked up from the cradle with the expression of a woman who had not expected company and was not entirely sure she welcomed it.

“Me Lady.” She straightened. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

“Nay.” Chloe crossed to the cradle. “I couldnae sleep.”

Mrs. Donnan watched her with careful eyes. “Most ladies who cannae sleep ring for their maid.”

“I am nae most ladies.” Chloe looked down at William, who was working himself toward a proper cry, his small fists batting at the air. “He has been at this long?”

“A wee while. He is hungry, I think, or his gums are troublin’ him again.” Mrs. Donnan paused. “I can manage, me Lady. Ye daenae need to.”

“I ken I daenae need to.” Chloe reached into the cradle and lifted him, one hand beneath his head, one at his back. William’s fussing stuttered and almost stopped. “That is nae why I am here.”

William turned his face toward her neck, his fist finding the fabric of her dress and gripping it. He was warm and solid and entirely trusting, the way only something very small and very helpless could be.

“What does he need?” Chloe asked, her voice steady.

Mrs. Donnan blinked, momentarily paralyzed. “His porridge, me Lady, but…” She glanced at the earthenware bowl on the table, her hands hovering as if unsure whether to hand it over or shield the child from the master’s new wife.

Chloe did not wait for permission. She stepped forward and picked up the bowl herself.

Dragging a low wooden stool close to the hearth, she sat down, settling the warm bowl in her lap and lifting the small horn spoon. Mrs. Donnan did not move. Chloe could feel the woman’s eyes tracking the fluid, practiced movement of her fingers, waiting for the high-born Lady O’Brien to make a mess of it.

William looked up, his watery blue eyes wide and skeptical.

“Aye,” Chloe murmured, keeping her voice low and rhythmic. “I ken, little bairn. Ye daenae ken me either.”

She offered the first small spoonful.

William did not hesitate. With a sharp exhale, he spat the porridge directly onto the dark wool of her sleeve.

A choked sound came from the doorway. Not quite a laugh, but dangerously close. Chloe snapped her head around to find Duncan, the young stable boy, hovering at the threshold. His face was twisted into a valiant but utterly unsuccessful mask of respect; he had one dirt-stained hand clamped over his mouth, his eyes bright with the agonizing effort of containment.

Beside the cradle, Mrs. Donnan stiffened so sharply.

Chloe looked down at the pale smear of oats on her sleeve. Then she looked back at William, who stared up at her with a look of smug satisfaction that would have looked right at home on a grown laird.

“Well,” Chloe said, a dry corner of her mouth twitching upward. “At least the lad has spirit.”

A choked sound came from the doorway. Not quite a laugh, but dangerously close.

Chloe snapped her head around to find Duncan, the young stable boy, hovering at the threshold with an armful of split logs for the hearth — sent up, no doubt, the moment someone noticed the nursery fire burning low.

His face was twisted into a valiant but utterly unsuccessful mask of respect; he had one dirt-stained hand clamped over his mouth, his eyes bright with the agonizing effort of containment.

“Pardon, me Lady. I didnae mean…”

“Daenae,” Chloe interrupted gently, the tension leaving her shoulders. “It was funny.”

She wiped her sleeve clean with a cloth, scooped another small portion of porridge, and tried again. This time, she was patient. She held the spoon steady, letting the boy track the movement, waiting until his small mouth parted on its own. He took the food. Reluctantly, as though granting her a massive favor, but he swallowed it.

“There we are,” she whispered.

Mrs. Donnan let out a long, quiet breath, her posture loosening slightly.

It was slow, deliberate work. William possessed incredibly specific opinions about the pace, the temperature, and the exact angle from which the spoon approached his face.