Chapter 20 #2
Isla hovered behind him, hands clasped tight. “She smells like… a baby.”
Ewan nodded solemnly. “Yes.”
Ariella laughed softly. “Would ye like to hold her, Ewan?”
Ewan’s eyes went wide. “Aye!”
“Sit still,” Mairi warned again.
Ewan sat so rigidly Ariella feared he might topple backward.
Ariella shifted carefully and guided the baby into his arms, supporting her head and shoulders. Ewan’s expression turned serious, mouth slightly open in concentration.
“Oh,” he breathed. “She’s warm.”
Isla’s eyes widened. She took a step closer, then stopped.
“Isla,” Mairi said gently, “do ye want to hold her?”
Isla looked like she might faint. “I think?”
Moira snorted. “Aye, she does.”
Isla glared at her. “Nay. I’ll drop her.”
“Ye willnae,” Ariella said softly. “Ye’ve carried hot pots since ye were small. Ye have steadier hands than ye think.”
Isla’s gaze flicked to the baby and softened, but fear still held her back. “She’s… so small.”
Mairi’s voice turned warm, coaxing. “Come here. I’ll show ye.”
Callum paused with a cup in hand, watching.
Maxwell, still standing near the hearth, shifted slightly. His arms were folded, but his posture looked less like defense now and more like quiet observation.
Ariella noticed him watching Isla with something faintly approving, as if he understood fear better than anyone in the room.
“Come,” Mairi urged. “Hold yer hands out.”
Isla stepped forward slowly, as if approaching a wild animal.
Mairi guided Ewan’s arms, then Isla’s hands, and the baby was transferred with careful precision.
Isla’s breath caught. “Oh.”
The baby squirmed slightly, then settled again, small face pressed into Isla’s sleeve.
Isla’s eyes filled instantly. “She’s… she’s trusting me.”
Moira’s expression softened, just for a heartbeat, before she cleared her throat and ruined it. “Daenae cry on her.”
Isla shot her a look through tears. “I am nae.”
Ariella’s chest ached pleasantly at the sight. Life, simple and honest, inside these small stone walls.
She glanced toward Maxwell.
He had moved closer without realizing it, nearer to the table now. His jaw was still tight, but he looked less like a laird measuring threats and more like a man standing in a room where he did not know where to put his hands.
Callum set down cups and stepped toward Mairi, fussing with her shawl. “Are ye warm enough? Do ye need more water? Should ye lie back down?”
Mairi rolled her eyes. “If ye ask me one more question, I’ll name the baby Moira just to punish ye.”
Moira barked a laugh. “Do it. I dare ye.”
Callum’s mouth twitched. “Ye wouldnae.”
Mairi leaned back, smug. “Try me.”
Ariella laughed, the sound spilling out easily.
Maxwell’s gaze snapped toward her, and for a moment his expression eased. Not into a smile, exactly. But something warmer than the cold distance of the last day.
Ariella took that warmth like a starving thing.
Perhaps she had misunderstood him. Perhaps he had simply been busy. Worn thin. Guarding his keep the only way he knew.
She let herself breathe again.
Maxwell stepped nearer the table and spoke quietly, aimed at Callum. “Ye are hovering.”
Callum blinked. “I am nae.”
“Ye are,” Maxwell said. “Sit. Ye’ll wear a rut into the floor.”
Moira laughed. “Look at that. Even the laird sees it.”
Callum scowled but obeyed, dropping onto the bench with a dramatic sigh. “Fine.”
Maxwell’s mouth twitched. “Good.”
Ariella stared.
He had sounded almost like Moira. Dry. Teasing. Comfortable.
It was a new side of him, and it struck her harder than it should have.
She rose slowly. “Mairi, may I hold her again?”
Mairi nodded. “Aye. Take her.”
Isla handed the baby back reluctantly, like she feared she’d miss something if she let go.
Ariella cradled the baby again, marveling at her weight, her warmth.
Ewan bounced on his stool. “Is she hungry?”
Mairi gave him a look. “She’s always hungry.”
Callum immediately stood again. “Do ye need her, Mairi?”
Mairi sighed. “Nay. Sit.”
Callum sat.
Moira leaned toward Ariella, voice lowered. “He’s worse than a maither hen.”
Ariella smiled. “It’s sweet.”
Moira snorted. “Aye. Until ye’re the one he’s clucking over.”
Ariella’s cheeks warmed despite herself, and she glanced toward Maxwell again.
He was watching her now. Watching the baby in her arms.
Something in his gaze looked careful. Controlled. But underneath it, something else flickered, like a flame trying to catch.
Ariella’s heart thumped.
Without thinking too hard, she moved closer to him, baby still nestled against her chest.
Maxwell’s eyes lifted to her face.
Ariella smiled lightly, playful, attempting to make the moment less heavy than it felt. “Would ye like to hold her?”
Maxwell went very still.
Callum looked up at once. Moira’s eyes widened with interest. Mairi’s mouth curved into a knowing smile.
Maxwell’s voice came out controlled. “Nay.”
Ariella lifted a brow. “Nay?”
He stared at the baby as if she might bite. “She is… small.”
“She is,” Ariella agreed gently. “So am I, compared to ye, and ye’ve managed me just fine.”
Moira choked on a laugh.
Maxwell’s eyes snapped to Ariella’s, warning. Ariella held his gaze, unflinching, pulse racing.
Mairi leaned back in her chair, smug. “Hold the baby, me Laird. Ye’ve faced way worse… ye’ve faced bread. Ye can face a newborn.”
Callum added quickly, “She willnae hurt ye.”
Ewan whispered, “She’s sleepy.”
Isla murmured, “She’s tiny.”
Moira grinned. “All the more impressive if she defeats him.”
Maxwell’s jaw tightened. “Enough.”
Ariella stepped closer still, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “Just for a moment. Let her ken ye.”
His eyes darkened, and Ariella felt that familiar heat curl low in her belly. Not from lust alone this time. From intimacy. From the way his restraint made everything sharper.
His arms lifted slowly.
Ariella guided the baby into them, careful, supporting the tiny head as Maxwell’s hands closed around the bundle.
Maxwell froze.
He held her as if she were a weapon that might go off if mishandled.
The baby made a soft sound and shifted, curling into the warmth of his chest.
Maxwell’s gaze dropped to her face.
His entire expression changed.
Not dramatically. Not in a way anyone else might notice.
But Ariella did.
His mouth softened slightly. His shoulders eased, just a fraction. His breathing slowed.
Ariella felt her chest tighten until it nearly hurt.
He looked right holding a child.
The thought hit her like a blow.
She imagined it without permission.
A baby with his eyes. Dark and steady. A little boy with his stubborn jaw and fearless stride. A little girl with his resolve, perhaps sharper than his, who would rule him with one small hand.
A family.
With him.
The longing surged up so fast she nearly staggered.
She had wanted him. She had desired him. She had been grateful for him. But this was different.
This was wanting a life.
A future filled with tiny laughter and big memories.
Her throat tightened. Her eyes burned.
She loved him.
She loved her husband with a depth that frightened her.
Ariella’s breath caught, and she realized she must be looking at him like a fool, because when Maxwell’s gaze lifted from the baby to her face, something flickered in his eyes, sharp and alarmed.
For a heartbeat, they held each other’s gaze across the small room.
Then Maxwell looked away quickly, as if he had seen too much.
He cleared his throat, the sound rough. “She’s… quiet.”
Ariella’s voice came out soft, almost broken. “She likes ye.”
Moira made a triumphant sound. “Oh, she does.”
Mairi laughed weakly. “Of course she does. Everyone likes the laird until he starts scowling again.”
Maxwell stared at the baby a moment longer, jaw tight as if he were fighting something inside himself.
Then he handed the baby back to Ariella with careful precision, as if the act required discipline.
“There,” he said. “Safe.”
Ariella cradled the baby again, but her hands trembled slightly now, not from fear, but from the realization that had settled in her bones.
She was completely and utterly in love with him.
And Maxwell, standing there with empty arms, looked as though he would rather face a battlefield than whatever he had nearly let show.
Ariella smiled anyway, gentle and quiet, because she did not know what else to do with love like this except carry it carefully.
Just as she carried the child.