Page 21 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

He considered. “Well, ye will have everything ye need at me house.”

“Where is yer house?”

“Far away. It’s called Keep MacCrimmon. And ye will have whatever ye need, because ye are guests, and we treat our guests very well.”

Her expression lightened up, and she spun around to stare at her mother.

“Ma! Did ye hear? We are guests! Proper guests!” She swung back to stare up at Hunter. “Is it a holiday? We daenae have holidays very much. Lady Pilbury needs lots of help, and Ma doesnae like to leave her alone.”

“I suppose it is a holiday.”

“But will Lady Pilbury be looked after?”

“She’ll receive the best care,” Hunter promised. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Reassured, Willow scrambled into the carriage, settling herself between Helena and Lady Pilbury. The two older ladies whispered to her, smiling, and pulled heavy rugs over their knees.

Noiselessly, Daphne approached him. Her gaze bored into him, clear green, unblinking. He wordlessly held out a hand for her carpetbag, and she shook her head.

“I’ll take it with me in there. It looks like I’ll have a seat all to meself. And ye are riding, nae sitting in with us?”

“I might change me mind if the rain starts. I’ll be cramped with us five in there, I warn ye.”

A muscle tightened in her jaw. “I believe ye.”

For a moment, Hunter imagined it. He would end up crammed on one seat with Daphne, her knee pressed against his, her shoulder brushing against him.

His gut tightened with desire.

Clearing his throat, he glanced away and looked for his horse.

But Daphne didn’t immediately clamber inside. She paused, one hand on the side of the carriage, one foot braced on the fold-up step. He could feel her gaze lingering on him, sharp enough to sting.

“Thank ye,” she said in a rush, her voice lowered so the occupants of the carriage couldn’t hear.

He eyed her for a long moment. “What are ye thanking me for?”

For one wild moment, he thought that she was thanking him for coming to get her, for bringing her back to Scotland.

However, that wild fantasy didn’t last.

She smiled bashfully, her gaze flitting away. “For Willow. For making her feel special, like a guest. We… We’ve always been treated well in Lady Pilbury’s house. She is a wonderful woman, truly, but there’s no getting away from the fact that I’m a companion, almost a servant. Her sons treat me like a servant, certainly. I suppose Willow has always considered us to be lesser, somehow. And now she’s a guest. I can see how excited she is.”

His chest tightened.

Me daughter, always a servant? Never a guest?

“It’s no trouble,” he managed. As Daphne turned to clamber into the carriage, he spoke again. “But daenae forget, I’ll soon ask ye to tell her the truth.”

Daphne flinched and turned back to him, wide-eyed. “The truth?” she stammered. “What do ye mean?”

He resisted the urge to laugh. “What truth do ye think I mean? I mean the truth about who she is and where she comes from. She must ken.”

Daphne pressed her lips together and stepped away from the carriage.

“Daenae rush me,” she hissed, glaring up at him. “Of course she must ken the truth, eventually, but I am her mother. I have raised her. I ken what she needs, what she wants to hear, and when she needs to hear it!”

He held her glare. “I think ye need a wee bit of perspective, lass.”