Page 18 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

“Everybody will ken it once they look at her.”

“If I go back, I’ll put everyone in danger.”

“When ye come back,” he corrected, “everyone will be protected. I will protect ye.”

Daphne met his eyes. For a minute, she let herself imagine it. She imagined hopping onto the back of Hunter’s horse, or however he had gotten down here from Scotland, and riding off into the sunset. Even though a long trip to the Highlands on the back of a horse would be hellish, and since it was only noon, the sunset was hours away.

In her imagination, Willow was with them. She either sat sandwiched between them on the horse’s back, or sort of floated in the middle distance, because it was a vague daydream, and the ordinary laws of physics and gravity did not apply.

Then she blinked, and everything was back to normal. The warm sunlight streamed in through the window, Hunter was watching her with that intent expression, and the facts were the facts, utterly insurmountable.

“I cannae possibly go with ye back to Scotland,” she said.

He frowned. “Why nae?”

“Why do ye think? I just told ye. Putting the Wolf aside, I cannae bring trouble to me family by returning. And what about Lady Pilbury? She’s sick and will die soon. The doctor said she only had a couple of days left the last time he saw her. She’s a fighter, true enough, but I doubt that she’ll see the end of the month. She’s been good to me, and to Willow. In fact, me daughter sees her as a grandmother more than anything else.”

“Our daughter,” he corrected.

Daphne flinched at that, taken aback. She considered arguing, and decided against it.

“I willnae leave Lady Pilbury,” she insisted, her voice lowering. “There is nothing ye can say that would make me leave that woman’s bedside. She has sons, ye ken? She adored them. Never did a mother spoil her children more. Me mother always said that spoiling a child ruined them, and I think she is right. Lady Pilbury’s sons daenae visit her. The eldest inherited the title when their father died, and the estate was mostly shared out between them. When Lady Pilbury dies, they’ll get the rest of it. They ken they only have to wait. I’ve lost track of how many letters I’ve drafted and sent on her behalf. Never an answer. Never a visit. They daenae care about her, but I willnae leave her.”

She practically spat out the last few words, anger flaring in her chest.

She had met the Pilbury boys once or twice. In the early days, they had arrived at the occasional family dinner. Lady Pilbury was always a pathetic mess, desperately showering gifts on her three sons and their indifferent wives. They treated Daphne like a glorified slave, and of course Willow was not permitted to meet them at all.

“I am not happy when they are here,” Lady Pilbury had confided once, frowning and twisting her fingers together. “But I should be happy, shouldn’t I? A mother should have no greater joy than her children.”

Hunter drew his lower lip between his teeth. “I see.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and marched back up the hallway. Daphne followed him, wide-eyed, trying desperately to work out what was going on.

He went straight to the door of Lady Pilbury’s room and strode in without so much as a knock.

Lady Pilbury was sitting up in bed, with a few extra pillows behind her. Helena had settled herself on the other side of the bed, with Willow cuddled up between them, dwarfed by the large book.

Daphne noticed again that Lady Pilbury had a spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. Was it the presence of her old friend? Maybe. Or perhaps it was just the excitement of something new.

All three of them glanced up when Hunter entered.

Helena frowned. “Ach, we’re nae leaving yet, son! I’ve only just got here.”

“I have a proposition,” he said shortly. “Lady Pilbury, I understand ye’re seriously ill. Dying, in fact.”

Daphne gave an outraged gasp and stepped forward, but Lady Pilbury held up a hand, stopping her in her tracks.

“That’s true,” she answered mildly. “It’s bad news, but I’ve never had fine health. I have made my peace with it.”

He grunted. “Ye may nae have to. Come back with us to Scotland. Me keep is a comfortable place, every bit as comfortable as this house. We have the best healers; I personally ken many of them. They’d take a good look at ye and see if anything can be done.”

Helena gave a soft, hopeful gasp.

Lady Pilbury’s hand lifted to her mouth, shaking. “Well, I… I have been seen by a great many doctors,” she stammered.

Hunter shrugged his wide shoulders. “I’m sure. So ye ken that there’s nothing further English physicians can do for ye. Give the Scottish ones a try.”

“I couldnae possibly.”