Page 81 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

Ceana gave her a long, hard look. “I noticed the resemblance, Daphne. Now, ye daenae have to tell me, but ye ken I have always wanted to ken. Who is Willow’s father?”

Daphne closed her eyes. She considered lying, but only for a split second. She’d never lied to her sister, not ever. It probably wouldn’t even work.

“Hunter is Willow’s father,” she whispered.

Ceana sucked in a breath, her eyes widening. “Willow is Laird MacCrimmon’s heir?”

“Hush, Ceana! It’s meant to be a secret. Did ye ken about his vow?”

“What vow?”

“He swore nae to marry or have children. Willow isnae meant to exist. He willnae tell me why he made the vow. Do ye ken why?”

Ceana shook her head, frowning. “I’d tell ye if I did. So, does he ken?”

“Aye.”

“Well, can ye nae wed?”

“Were ye nae listening? He swore nae to. It’s… It’s complicated.”

Ceana thought that over, frowning. “I see,” she uttered. “So, what are ye going to do? Will ye stay, or will ye go? Does Willow ken?”

“Nay, of course nae. She’ll have to be told sooner or later, but… nae yet.”

Ceana nodded. “I understand. Look, ye daenae have to do all this alone, lass. I’m here.”

To her horror, Daphne felt tears prick her eyes, threatening to well up. She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“Aye, but for how long? Ye have a husband and a clan to run. Ye are a lady, a proper one. I ken ye cannae stay here, Ceana. This is all me fault. I ruined everything. I slept with bloody Laird MacCrimmon and ran off, and now I’ve missed so much of yer life. I didnae see yer wedding. Ye didnae get to see Willow when she was a baby. I’ve ruined it all.”

“Hey, hey, enough,” Ceana soothed, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Enough talk of ruining everything. Nothing is ruined, do ye hear? We’ll work this out together. And like I said, ye are safe. Nay Wolf, nay angry laird after revenge. Everything is fine.”

Daphne sighed. “It doesnae feel fine.”

Ceana squeezed her hand again. “Let’s just focus on enjoying the cèilidh tomorrow, aye?”

“Aye.”

Pattering feet echoed in the hallway outside. Daphne knew those footsteps better than she knew her own.

“Willow, love,” she called. “Come in here. There’s somebody I want ye to meet.”

The door slowly slid open, revealing Willow standing there, wide-eyed.

“Willow.” Daphne waved her over. “Come and meet yer Auntie Ceana. She’s wanted to meet ye for a long, long time.”

“Good day, Auntie Ceana,” Willow mumbled, dragging the toe of her shoe across the floor. “Would ye like to meet me pet fox, River?”

A slow smile spread across Ceana’s face. “Aye, pet. That would be lovely.”

The Next Day

“It’s too much,” Daphne announced, scowling at her reflection.

“Ye worry too much; that’s all it is,” Ceana sighed.

She was sitting on one of the seats angled toward the fire and had her feet propped up on the opposite chair. Her dress was simple, another McKane tartan gown.