Page 34 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

“Hunter!” a male voice echoed across the space.

She glanced up to find a tall, broad man striding toward them, not quite as large as Hunter but close. His long, dark hair was pulled back in an untidy knot, and his keen, hawk-like black eyes raked over her, missing no detail.

Apparently, he decided that she wasn’t worth greeting or worrying about, for his gaze immediately slid to Hunter.

“I’m glad ye are back.”

“I’m glad to be back,” Hunter responded. “What is it, Magnus?”

“We have things to discuss.” Magnus stopped, digging his thumbs into his belt. “Nothing pressing, but ye ken how these matters build up when ye are away.”

“Aye, I ken. Later, I think. I have business to attend to.”

Magnus frowned, glancing briefly at Daphne. “Can this nae wait?”

“Nay,” Hunter responded simply, taking a few more steps toward a small, heavy wooden door, rounded at the top with an iron doorknob in the center. “It cannae. Come on in, lass. Let’s talk.”

Magnus blinked, his eyes widening. He actually rocked back on his heels with surprise and stared at Daphne with intrigue. He still didn’t address her, however.

She made no move to speak to him and simply slipped through the doorway after Hunter.

The room beyond the door was small, round, and overfull. Bookshelves lined the walls. Some shelves were nailed to the walls; others were simply bookcases propped up here and there. A low window seat sat in front of a narrow window, laden with books and papers. There was only room for a large desk and two chairs, and both chairs were full of papers. A large map was pinned down on the desk, weighed down in the corners with four books. Pencil scribbles covered the map, and there were various little figurines and items that were probably meant to represent something.

Hunter stepped forward, deftly yanked up the map, scattering the items in the process, and rolled it up.

“Forgive the mess,” he said bluntly. “This is me study. Me personal study, that is, so I rarely hold meetings in here.”

Daphne said nothing. She stepped forward and bent to pick up one of the little things that had been standing on the map. It had rolled onto the floor and sat just beside the desk leg.

She held it up to the light, turning it over and over in her fingers.

“A toy soldier,” she remarked, a little surprised. “One of yers?”

“Aye,” he responded lightly, reaching over and plucking it out of her fingers. “I use them to show where our forces are on a map. Useful.”

“Willow wanted a set of these. I cannae afford them, of course. I didnae want me family to ken where I was, so… I made her a doll for her last birthday. She adores it, but it’s nae what she wanted.”

Hunter tilted his head. “Why nae ask Lady Pilbury? She loves Willow. I reckon she’d buy her anything she wanted.”

Daphne pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Nay, I daenae want to ask for too much. Lady Pilbury already does enough for us. I earn a living because of her. I can raise me daughter as a lady, and I daenae face the dangers a single mother would usually deal with.”

A long silence passed before Hunter responded. She could feel his eyes on her like a weight, sending tingles down her spine.

Clearing her throat, she turned to eye the books on the shelves. She’d expected to see history books, books of maps, tales about the Highlands and the clans, and she was right. However, among the dusty old history tomes, she spotted something surprising.

“Novels,” she murmured, taking a step forward and tapping a spine with her forefinger. “The Italian, by Mrs. Radcliffe. I finished reading this one to Lady Pilbury last year. I didnae take ye for a man who reads novels.”

“Ye daenae think it’s human nature to love stories? It’s just as well that I did. A secret daughter, a hidden vow, and a reluctant mother? That could be straight out of Mrs. Radcliffe’s pages.”

Daphne stiffened, whipping around to face him. “When ye say reluctant mother, I assume ye mean me?”

He eyed her thoughtfully. “I suppose. It’s nae an insult.”

“Well, it sounds like one.”

“Willow wasnae exactly planned.”

“Aye, well, I daenae want her to ken that!”