Chapter 3 #2
“What?” Kristen prompted.
He stepped aside.
A wicker basket sat on the threshold where wet stone met dry, a thin cloth draped over it.
For a second, Kristen did not know what she was looking at. Then the cloth moved.
She froze. Davina’s fingers found her sleeve and tugged. A maid near the wall clapped a hand over her mouth.
“God above,” someone whispered.
Kristen moved closer and knelt down beside the basket, drawing the cloth back. A baby lay inside, it couldn’t be more than a few months old. Its tiny fists rose in the air, and its eyes opened and blinked at the hall as if the world were a new room it had not agreed to enter.
“Who are ye?” Kristen whispered.
“Me sister, Anna,” a little voice came from behind a bush, and soon enough, a little boy of around three showed up and approached shyly.
“Whose are they?” a footman asked. “Left here like lambs.”
“Who would put them down and run?” a maid asked. “Lord have mercy.”
“I sent men after whoever dropped them. They cannae have gone far,” Lachland said, his voice rough.
Kristen did not answer. She reached a finger to the boy’s chin and touched him as if he were a figment of her imagination. He tensed at first but soon smiled at her.
Something inside her melted and knit at the same time.
“And who are ye, sweetie?”
“I’m Finn, me Lady. Ma said father was here.”
Lachlan leaned close to her ear. “Ye see it, do ye nae? The resemblance.”
Kristen studied the children closely. The dark sweep of the boy’s brow, the curve of the girl’s mouth. It hit her like a bell struck once.
“Aye,” she whispered, her eyes stinging. “They look like Neil.”
Davina let out a slow breath. The servants shifted and stared and stopped themselves from stepping nearer.
“And that is why,” Kristen added, her voice steadier, “we willnae send them away to the village. Perhaps it is a sign he is still out there.”
Lachlan snorted. “A sign that Neil’s been sleeping around with women and dropping bairns at our doorstep.”
Kristen flinched, before slowly turning to him. “If that is true, then it isnae their fault,” she hissed. “They are here, and they are cold, and they need to be fed. We can judge the rest later.”
Lachlan’s jaw relaxed, and he looked toward the rain.
Kristen slipped her hands under the boy and lifted him. He was warm and heavier than he looked. He settled against her with a small sigh and thanked her quietly. Her heart ached and swelled at once, like a wound that had found the right bandage.
“Do ye ken one of childhood friends’ name is Finn?” she whispered to him. “I love that name.”
Davina’s face softened. “A good name.”
Kristen blinked away tears.
Davina slipped her arms under the little girl and rose, rocking her slowly. The baby’s eyes were dark and steady. She did not cry. She only watched as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, her tiny tongue poking out as if tasting air.
“And this wee lass must come inside at once,” Davina murmured.
Kristen met the girl’s eyes just once. Something in her chest clicked into place and held fast.
She turned in a circle, so everyone nearby could see the boy in her arms and the resolve on her face.
“Heat the small nursery by the east wall,” she instructed. “Boil water. Find goat’s milk and warm it. Send for clean clothes while ye do that. Lay them near the fireplace, and nay one breathes on them. We will find a nurse before nightfall.”
The servants sprang into action, orders moving like water along a dry channel. A guard ran for the yard. A maid darted for the kitchen and nearly slipped on the wet threshold, then caught herself and laughed with nerves.
Davina smiled at the little girl as she rocked her. “Welcome, wee Anna,” she cooed. “Ye chose a stubborn house. It will suit ye fine.”
Kristen looked down at the boy’s dark lashes and felt a purpose settle into her bones. Grief had been a stone she carried without knowing where to set it. Now, she knew she was never meant to put it down. She just had to channel it. Use it to take care of these children.
Lachlan drew nearer and lowered his voice. “We will keep lookin’ for the one who brought them,” he promised. “If there is a trail to follow, I will find it.”
“Aye,” Kristen said. “But if ye do, ye will be kind.”
He nodded. “I will try.”
She glanced out the door. The rain had started at last, a thin fall that made threads across the yard.
She held Finn closer, feeling his warmth seep through her dress.
His breath came small and even. He did not know what had been asked of him by the world.
He only knew the beat of a heart and the sound of a voice close to his ear.
“Bring in the basket too,” she said, eventually. “And close the door. The cold has had enough of this castle.”
More footmen moved as the door slowly swung shut, signifying the beginning of something Kristen didn’t understand yet.
She kissed the boy’s brow and let her eyes close for a breath. When she opened them, she looked to the place where the road vanished down the hill.
“Neil,” she whispered shakily. “Wherever ye are, look what ye left for me.”
Present Day
“Oh,” Neil muttered, realization sinking in as Kristen finished telling the story.
“Are ye telling me now that the children I have been taking care of for the past two years arenae yers?”
His lips thinned. “If they arenae yers, and they certainly arenae mine—” He swore under his breath. “Alex.”
She lifted her head. “Yer braither? Ye think the bairns are his?”
“I think he is the only answer that fits. I ken when he ran with that girl—they may have started a family. What I didnae ken was that they might nae be able to take care of their bairns.”
“Well, it doesnae matter. One doesnae see two lost children at their doorstep and send them away,” Kristen said. The sheet rustled when she tightened it around her further. “I took them in regardless, and they have been with me ever since.”
“I saw that,” Neil said.
“Children deserve love,” Kristen continued. “And a happy family. Even when adults fail them.” Her voice hitched at the last words, as if she were telling herself something she needed to hear.
Neil wanted to cross the room. He wanted to tilt her chin up and make her look at him so he could see what the five years had done to her. Yet he stayed where he was and took the want like a man holding a hot brand off his skin.
He tried for plain sense. “So they came two years ago?”
“Aye,” she replied. “Close to the feast. The boy spoke for both.”
Silence filled the room for the next minute.
Neil edged a little closer. “Did folks help?”
“Some,” Kristen said. “Murdock, Davina, but Maggie most of all.”
“The dog,” Neil scoffed, almost smiling. “She would have me throat if I took a wrong step.”
“She would try,” Kristen agreed drily. “And I wouldnae stop her.”
“Good.” Neil nodded. “We will find out who dropped them off and why. I will see to it.”
“I have been seeing to it,” Kristen admitted.
“Aye,” Neil acknowledged. “I can see that as well.”
Kristen’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though she was still holding the sheet like a shield.
Neil’s eyes kept darting to her hands at the fold and back to her face. It was surprising how little pride it took him to admit that she had done a great job managing the castle in his absence.
The silence grew more uncomfortable, so he decided to change the subject.
“I will ask again,” he said. “And I want a straight answer. Are ye certain there is nay man to kill? I ken the children arenae yers, but it has been five years, after all.”
Her laugh was quick and sharp. “Ye are desperate for a fight.”
“I am desperate for the truth,” he corrected. “I have had little of it.”
“There is nay one to kill,” she scoffed. “There is only a woman who was left in a marriage that started cold and stayed empty.”
The words landed where no blade could reach. “I hear ye.”
“Do ye?” She arched an eyebrow.
“Aye. I do.”
Her chin dipped. The sheet loosened a finger’s width, but Neil kept his hands at his sides, even though he wanted nothing more than to reach for her.
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, breaking the silence.
“Kristen, is everything all right?” Lachlan called through the wood. “I heard voices.”
Kristen’s eyes flashed. “Can ye be quiet?” she hissed.
Neil scoffed. “Why would I be quiet in me own castle?”
“Because I said so.”
“Is everything well?” Lachlan asked again, his tone mild as milk.
“Everything’s fine,” Kristen called back, calm enough to soothe a child. “Thank ye. I was only getting ready for bed.”
“I thought I heard a man’s voice.”
“That must have been me voice, or it could have come from somewhere else,” she said. “Good night, Lachlan.”
Lachlan hesitated before responding, “Good night, me Lady.”
Footsteps retreated, and the lock met the strike with a neat click.
Neil turned to his wife. “Why is Lachlan knocking on yer door?” he asked, bristling from spine to teeth.
“To make sure I am all right,” she replied. “Perhaps he could teach ye to knock as well, instead of breaking in.”
“It is me chamber,” he reminded her. “I am nae sure it counts as breaking in.”
She gave him a small, annoyed smile. “Fair point.”
He crossed to the washstand and dipped his hands in the basin to check if the water was still warm. He splashed his face out of habit more than need.
“Which is why ye can leave now,” he said without looking at her.
“Excuse me?”
“Ye remember me rules; they havenae changed.”
Kristen came a step closer and lifted her chin. “But I have. Since ye’ve returned now, ye must follow some of me rules too.”
Neil looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Is that so? Me little bride’s got teeth.”
“Aye.” She nodded. “And I willnae hesitate to bite ye.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up, then lowered. “Let us hear them.”
“First,” she said, crisp as a steward. “Every day, we will spend one hour together with the children, nay matter how busy ye are.”
He thought about it, remembering Finn’s flinch and Anna’s hand on Maggie’s fur. “Fine,” he acquiesced. “But for the rest of the day, I want me peace and quiet.”
“Certainly,” she said quickly, as if she had been expecting that.
A smile touched his lips. “Will that be all?”
“Nae even close.” The air between them shifted. “Ye will give me a child.”
He went very still. “What did ye say?”
“Ye heard me. I want a big family.” The words did not waver, only the breath between them. “It would help the bairns feel secure. It would help me as well. A home needs laughter. It needs more than ghosts.”
“Nay,” he uttered, cold as water from a winter well. “I have an heir now. I have nay need for ye anymore. And ye’re still forbidden from going to me tower.”
The words struck her hard; he could see it. She took them without a sound, as if she had learned to swallow blows. Her hands fisted in the skirt of her dress and then loosened.
“Last rule,” she said, her voice steely. “We will sleep in the same bed.”
He stared at her. “What?”
“I willnae be ridiculed again by the servants for having an absent husband.” Her mouth tightened. “We will share the same bed, at least for a month.”
His voice dropped, rough to his own ears. “Ye daenae ken what ye’re asking for, lass.”
“I do,” she said. “And I expect ye to do it, husband.”
The fire snapped. The walls drew close. Neil could hear his own breath, steady now, and hers, light and quick. A long, charged silence held.
“Fine. But nay backin’ out if ye regret it, wife. For the next month, yer nights belong to me.”