and smiled. “And who have we here?” he asked in a tone of quiet reassurance.
“My name is Lady Angelica,” she answered with a pert little curtsy, “and you are Lord Kinrath. My mummy told me you are going to lead us all the way to Scotland, and you won’t get lost because you know the way there because that’s where your home is.”
The child gazed up at him with round, trusting eyes, the exact nut-brown of her mother’s. Lachlan experienced an undeniable tug at his heart.
“Aye, lassie,” he said gently. “We willna get lost. I know the way home like the robin returning in the spring. Now let’s get you on your pony, shall we?”
With a radiant smile, Angelica clasped the gloved hand he offered. “You will have to lift me up,” she informed him, “and then help Mummy, too, for even though she’s much taller than me, she can’t get up into the saddle without help, and you are supposed to help us, because that is what the king said, even if Mummy doesn’t really want to go all the way to Scotland with you.”
“I’ll be honored to help you both,” he assured the child.
Hand in hand, Lachlan and Angelica walked across the cobblestones, followed by Lady Walsingham and the cross-tempered nurse. He swung the child up on the small Welsh pony that stood waiting beside the countess’s barb.
“I got to sleep with Mummy last night,” Angelica confided with a joyful giggle.
Lachlan ignored the astonished gasp from the little girl’s mother behind him. He met the child’s guileless brown eyes in delight. He handed her the reins, unable to suppress a grin at the telling information she’d offered so artlessly.
“Oh, did you, now, lass?”
“Yes, I had a bad dream there was a witch in the cupboard, and Mummy let me climb into her big bed with her when she came in after the dancing, and she always smells so nice, and she let me have breakfast with her before she went to church.”
“And did you look for the witch in the morning?” he asked.
“Mummy did, but the cupboard was empty because all my clothes had already been packed, and my pony’s name is Merlin because he comes from Wales, and so did King Arthur’s wizard, and do they have wizards and witches in Scotland?”
“I’ve never seen any,” he said, “but I’ve been told there are faeries and elves in the Highlands.”
Angelica wriggled excitedly in the saddle. The pony shook his head in response, sending the long brown mane flying.
“Will we see any?” she asked hopefully.
He caught Merlin’s halter and patted its soft black nose. “We won’t be going up into the Highlands,” he told her. He suddenly felt a pang of regret that he would never show the child and her lovely mother the mountainous beauty of his homeland.
Lachlan motioned for his uncle. “Recheck the child’s stirrups,” he told him, “then help the nursemaid onto her horse.”
“Ye jawboxy slug, ye,” Walter muttered under his breath. He propped his large, sword-calloused palms on his hips. “Next time, I’ll tend to the halflin, and ye can deal with that sour-mouthed old crone yerself. She’s been standin’ there givin’ me the evil eye, like she’s kin to Lucifer himself.” Scowling ferociously, he made the sign of the cross, then spat in the dirt.
“She’s harmless,” Lachlan replied with a shake of his head.
Moving to the spirited mare waiting beside his big chestnut stallion, Lachlan crouched down and offered the countess his assistance, just as Angelica had instructed him to do.
“Milady,” he said, the laughter returning to his voice.
Without a word, Lady Walsingham placed the tips of her gloved fingers on his shoulder and her booted foot in his cupped hands. As Lachlan tossed her lightly up into the saddle, he wisely resisted the temptation to slide his palm along the length of her calf, concealed beneath the soft black leather.
Accepting the reins he offered, she looked down and met his gaze, her luminous eyes half-hidden
“My name is Lady Angelica,” she answered with a pert little curtsy, “and you are Lord Kinrath. My mummy told me you are going to lead us all the way to Scotland, and you won’t get lost because you know the way there because that’s where your home is.”
The child gazed up at him with round, trusting eyes, the exact nut-brown of her mother’s. Lachlan experienced an undeniable tug at his heart.
“Aye, lassie,” he said gently. “We willna get lost. I know the way home like the robin returning in the spring. Now let’s get you on your pony, shall we?”
With a radiant smile, Angelica clasped the gloved hand he offered. “You will have to lift me up,” she informed him, “and then help Mummy, too, for even though she’s much taller than me, she can’t get up into the saddle without help, and you are supposed to help us, because that is what the king said, even if Mummy doesn’t really want to go all the way to Scotland with you.”
“I’ll be honored to help you both,” he assured the child.
Hand in hand, Lachlan and Angelica walked across the cobblestones, followed by Lady Walsingham and the cross-tempered nurse. He swung the child up on the small Welsh pony that stood waiting beside the countess’s barb.
“I got to sleep with Mummy last night,” Angelica confided with a joyful giggle.
Lachlan ignored the astonished gasp from the little girl’s mother behind him. He met the child’s guileless brown eyes in delight. He handed her the reins, unable to suppress a grin at the telling information she’d offered so artlessly.
“Oh, did you, now, lass?”
“Yes, I had a bad dream there was a witch in the cupboard, and Mummy let me climb into her big bed with her when she came in after the dancing, and she always smells so nice, and she let me have breakfast with her before she went to church.”
“And did you look for the witch in the morning?” he asked.
“Mummy did, but the cupboard was empty because all my clothes had already been packed, and my pony’s name is Merlin because he comes from Wales, and so did King Arthur’s wizard, and do they have wizards and witches in Scotland?”
“I’ve never seen any,” he said, “but I’ve been told there are faeries and elves in the Highlands.”
Angelica wriggled excitedly in the saddle. The pony shook his head in response, sending the long brown mane flying.
“Will we see any?” she asked hopefully.
He caught Merlin’s halter and patted its soft black nose. “We won’t be going up into the Highlands,” he told her. He suddenly felt a pang of regret that he would never show the child and her lovely mother the mountainous beauty of his homeland.
Lachlan motioned for his uncle. “Recheck the child’s stirrups,” he told him, “then help the nursemaid onto her horse.”
“Ye jawboxy slug, ye,” Walter muttered under his breath. He propped his large, sword-calloused palms on his hips. “Next time, I’ll tend to the halflin, and ye can deal with that sour-mouthed old crone yerself. She’s been standin’ there givin’ me the evil eye, like she’s kin to Lucifer himself.” Scowling ferociously, he made the sign of the cross, then spat in the dirt.
“She’s harmless,” Lachlan replied with a shake of his head.
Moving to the spirited mare waiting beside his big chestnut stallion, Lachlan crouched down and offered the countess his assistance, just as Angelica had instructed him to do.
“Milady,” he said, the laughter returning to his voice.
Without a word, Lady Walsingham placed the tips of her gloved fingers on his shoulder and her booted foot in his cupped hands. As Lachlan tossed her lightly up into the saddle, he wisely resisted the temptation to slide his palm along the length of her calf, concealed beneath the soft black leather.
Accepting the reins he offered, she looked down and met his gaze, her luminous eyes half-hidden
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