Chapter 23
“Leave me alone!”
Eloise’s scream tore through the night, jolting Declan awake. He was moving before his eyes fully opened, Francesca already scrambling out of bed beside him.
They ran down the corridor, their bare feet slapping against cold stone.
Declan reached Eloise’s chamber first, throwing open the door to find the child sitting bolt upright in bed, tears streaming down her face.
Bluebell pressed against her side while both kittens mewed anxiously from the foot of the bed.
“The bad lady had me, and she was hurting Mama, and I couldn’t stop her!” Eloise sobbed, her small body shaking. “I couldn’t stop her!”
“Shh, sweetheart, I’m here.” Francesca climbed onto the bed, gathering the child into her arms. “It was just a dream. Just a nightmare.”
“But it felt real!” Eloise clutched at her mother’s nightgown. “It felt so real!”
Declan sat on the other side of the bed, his hand coming to rest on Eloise’s back. “Aye, lass, nightmares do feel real. But they’re not. The bad lady is gone. She cannae hurt ye or yer mother ever again.”
“Promise?” Eloise’s voice broke on the word.
“I promise.” He stroked her hair, the gesture becoming more natural with each passing night. “And I’ll tell ye a secret. Even grown warriors have nightmares sometimes. I’ve had plenty meself.”
Eloise pulled back from Francesca’s embrace, her tear-stained face turning toward him. “Ye have?”
“Aye. After battles, after losin’ people I cared about.” He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “The mind plays tricks on us when we’re frightened, shows us things that aren’t real. But do ye ken what helps?”
“What?”
“Rememberin’ that ye’re safe. That ye’re loved. That ye have people around ye who will always protect ye.” He met Francesca’s eyes over Eloise’s head. “Like yer ma and me. We’re here, and we’re nae goin’ anywhere.”
“Can I sleep with ye both again?” Eloise’s voice trembled. “Please?”
“Of course.” Francesca stood, lifting the child into her arms. “Come on, darling. Let’s get you settled.”
Declan scooped up Bluebell and both kittens, following them back to his chamber. They settled into the large bed, Eloise burrowing between them, her breathing gradually slowing as they whispered soothing words.
“Tell me about when ye were little, Da,” Eloise murmured, her eyes already drooping. “Did ye have animals too?”
“Aye, I had a dog. A great beast named Finn who followed me everywhere.” Declan found himself smiling at the memory. “He used to sleep at the foot of me bed, just like Bluebell does for ye.”
“What happened to him?”
“He lived a long, happy life. Died of old age when I was still a bairn.” He stroked her hair gently. “But I remember him fondly. The way he’d greet me every mornin’, tail waggin’ so hard his whole body would shake.”
“I want Bluebell to live forever.”
“I ken, lass. But all we can do is love our animals while we have them and give them the best lives possible.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “Just like we do with the people we love.”
“Like family?”
“Exactly like family.”
Eloise’s eyes drifted closed, her small hand still clutching Declan’s shirt. Francesca reached across the child’s sleeping form, her fingers finding his.
“You’re wonderful with her,” she whispered.
“She makes it easy.” His thumb traced circles on her palm. “Both of ye do.”
“Can I stay here? I’ll be quiet. I promise.”
Declan looked up from the correspondence on his desk to find Eloise standing in his study doorway, Bluebell hopping along behind her. She’d been following him around all morning, refusing to let him out of her sight.
He glanced at the stack of letters waiting for his attention, then at the child’s hopeful face. “Aye, come in. But ye have to let me work, understand?”
“I understand.” She settled on the floor near his desk with her rabbit and a small book. “I’ll just read to Bluebell.”
She kept her promise, occasionally murmuring to her pet but otherwise content just to be near him. Declan tried to focus on the reports, but he found himself glancing at her every few minutes.
“Laird MacGhee, I have the border reports ye requested—” Fraser stopped short in the doorway, his eyes widening at the scene before him. “Well, well. The fearsome Laird MacGhee, conductin’ clan business with a wee lass and her rabbit as audience.”
“Daenae start,” Declan warned.
“I’m nae startin’ anythin’.” Fraser’s grin widened. “Simply observin’ that domestication suits ye. Good mornin’, wee one. How’s Bluebell today?”
“He’s very good!” Eloise beamed at him. “He learned a new trick. Want to see?”
“Later, lass,” Declan interjected. “Fraser and I have business to discuss first.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “Sorry.”
The disappointment in her voice made Declan’s chest tighten. “Actually, maybe Bluebell could show Fraser his trick first. Then we’ll talk business.”
Eloise’s face lit up. She jumped to her feet and proceeded to demonstrate how the rabbit could hop through a small hoop she’d fashioned from willow branches. Fraser watched with exaggerated interest, praising the rabbit’s cleverness until Eloise was giggling.
“Very impressive,” Fraser declared. “Ye’ve trained him well, lass.”
“Thank ye!” Eloise settled back with her book, radiating pride.
Fraser spread the border reports on Declan’s desk, his voice dropping to business tones. “All quiet on the boundaries. The MacLeods sent word they’re pleased with the new trade agreement.”
“Good.” Declan scanned the documents. “And the Campbells?”
“Neutral as always. Watchin’ and waitin’ to see which way the wind blows.”
They reviewed the rest of the reports, discussing patrol schedules and supply needs. When they finished, Fraser rolled up the documents but made no move to leave.
“Walk with me?” his cousin suggested. “I could use some air.”
Declan glanced at Eloise. “Lass, can ye go find Betsy? I need to speak with Fraser for a bit.”
“Will ye come back soon?”
“Aye, I promise.”
She nodded reluctantly and gathered Bluebell, heading off in search of the maid. Once she was gone, Fraser raised an eyebrow.
“The child’s become quite attached.”
“She had a nightmare last night. A bad one.” Declan stood, leading the way to the battlements. “She’s been clingy ever since.”
The Highland wind whipped around them as they stepped outside. Fraser leaned against the stone parapet, studying his cousin’s face.
“Ye’ve changed.”
“Aye.”
“It’s a good change, cousin. The best I’ve seen in ye since… well, since before yer mother died.”
Declan stared out over MacGhee lands, at the rolling hills and distant mountains. “I didnae realize how much I’d closed meself off until they came along. How much I was just existin’ rather than livin’.”
“And now?”
“Now I wake up eager to see what the day brings.” He turned to face Fraser. “I look forward to meals. I find meself smilin’ over the smallest things. A child’s laughter. The way me wife looks at me when she thinks I’m nae noticin’.” He paused. “I’m happy, Fraser. Truly happy.”
“I can see that.” Fraser clapped him on the shoulder. “Yer father would be proud.”
“Would he?” The words came out more bitter than intended. “He loved me mother so much, it destroyed him when she died. I always thought that was weakness.”
“It wasnae the lovin’ that destroyed him.
It was nae kenin’ how to go on after she died.
” Fraser’s expression grew serious. “But ye’re nae yer father.
Ye have strength he lacked. And ye have people who need ye—nae just the clan, but yer family.
That wee lass who follows ye around? That woman who looks at ye like ye hung the moon?
They’ve given ye somethin’ to fight for beyond duty. ”
“They have.” Declan’s hand tightened on the stone. “I’d burn the world down to keep them safe.”
“I ken ye would. That’s what makes ye a good laird and a good father.”
The word settled over him. Father. Not in title alone but in truth.
“Aye?” Declan asked.
“I’ve always been wise. Ye were just too stubborn to listen.” Fraser grinned. “Now come on. I’m sure yer daughter is wonderin’ where ye’ve gone.”
“Can Da see?” Eloise looked up from her slate, hope shining in her eyes.
Declan had found them in the solar—Francesca sitting beside Eloise at the small table, both bent over the child’s lessons. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, catching in Francesca’s hair.
“Of course, he can see.” Francesca beckoned him closer. “Come look at what she’s accomplished.”
He examined the slate, genuinely impressed by the neat rows of letters. “Well done, lass. Yer letters are almost as good as yer mother’s.”
Eloise beamed under his praise then set down her chalk. “Will ye teach me somethin’ too? Somethin’ that lairds need to know?”
Declan exchanged a glance with Francesca, who nodded encouragingly.
“Aye, I suppose I could teach ye to recognize clan tartans.” He settled beside her. “That’s important for any MacGhee to ken. Every clan has its own pattern, ye see. The colors and lines tell ye who they are.”
He pulled out the samples kept in the solar’s storage chest, spreading them across the table. Eloise leaned forward, fascinated.
“This one,” he pointed to a pattern of red and green, “is MacGhee tartan. Our colors. Can ye see the way the red crosses the green here?”
“Aye! And there’s a wee bit of blue too.”
“Good eye. That blue line represents the rivers that run through our lands.” He moved to another sample. “Now this is MacLeod tartan. They’re allies, so ye need to recognize it.”
“The yellow is pretty.”
“Aye, but pretty doesnae always mean friendly. This one—” he held up a different pattern, “—is Campbell tartan. We trade with them but keep our guard up.”
“Because ye can’t trust everyone?” Eloise asked, her face serious.
“Exactly.” He tapped her nose gently. “Yer a quick learner, lass.”
She studied each pattern intently, asking questions about colors and meanings. Declan found himself enjoying the teaching, the way her mind worked through the information.
“So the MacLeods are friends?” She pointed to the yellow and black pattern.
“Aye, they’re allies.”
“And if I saw this one—” she tapped the Campbell tartan, “—what should I do?”
“Be polite but careful. Watch what ye say.”
“Like when Mama talks to the merchants in the village?”
Francesca laughed. “Exactly like that, sweetheart. You’re learning the ways of diplomacy.”
For over an hour, they worked through the different patterns. Eloise absorbed it all, occasionally glancing at Francesca for reassurance but growing more confident with each correct answer.
“Ye’ve done well today, lass,” Declan said finally. “Both with yer letters and yer tartans.”
“Can we do more tomorrow?”
“Aye, if ye like.”
That evening, they gathered for dinner at the high table. Fraser joined them, as had become his custom, regaling them with stories from his day.
“—and then the goat climbed straight up onto Duncan’s head!” Fraser was saying, making Eloise giggle. “Poor man didnae ken whether to laugh or cry.”
“Da?” Eloise interrupted, her voice suddenly small.
“Aye, lass?”
“Can I ask ye somethin’?”
“Always.”
She twisted her hands in her lap, not meeting his eyes. “When ye and Mama have a baby, will ye still love me just as much?”
The table fell silent. Declan felt his breath catch and saw Francesca’s hand move toward his under the table.
“Eloise,” Francesca said gently, “why would you think we’d love you any less?”
“Because the baby would be yours. Really yours. Not just…” She trailed off, her chin trembling.
Declan pushed his chair back and lifted Eloise onto his lap, turning her to face him. “Listen to me, lass, and listen well. Ye are really ours. Blood doesnae make a family—love does. Do ye understand?”
“But—”
“When yer mother and I have other children, and we will, they’ll be yer brothers and sisters.
And we’ll love them, aye.” He cupped her small face in his hands.
“But that will never, never take away from how much we love ye. Ye’re me daughter in every way that matters. Nothin’ will ever change that.”
“Promise?” Her voice broke.
“I promise. On me honor as a laird and as yer da, I promise.”
Eloise threw her arms around his neck, holding tight. Over her head, Declan met Francesca’s eyes and saw them shining with tears.
Fraser cleared his throat roughly. “Well, now that we’ve all had our hearts properly wrung out, who wants pudding?”
The moment broke with laughter, but the truth of it remained, settling warm and certain in Declan’s chest. They were a family—bound not by blood but by choice and love and the promise to always, always choose each other.