Chapter 5 #2
Daphne said nothing. She stared after Willow, as if determined not to let her out of her sight. She kept in step with Hunter, but barely glanced up at him.
“I can manage a fox,” she said shortly.
For some reason, that sounded like an insult. Hunter didn’t bother to ask for an explanation.
Willow leaped easily across the difficult terrain, all the way back to the path and the carriage.
She was never lost, then, he thought, half-pleased.
That was impressive. A child of Willow’s age should have gotten lost in the forest easily. He’d known children to get lost only a handful of steps off the pathway, but not Willow, apparently.
Can we thank me blood for that, or Daphne’s?
No answer to his question. Probably for the best.
They were a few feet away from the path when he finally stopped, turning to face Daphne. Willow had burst onto the road, and he could hear her chattering away, explaining the fox’s appearance. He heard Lady Pilbury’s voice and the driver’s, and his mother’s peal of laughter.
Daphne stared up at him, a furrow between her eyebrows.
“So, ye have seen what a terrible mother I am, then,” she said flatly. “Tell me, do ye plan to take me child from me?”
He rocked back on his heels. “What are ye saying? Terrible mother? Of course ye arenae a terrible mother. Willow adores ye.”
“I shouted at her. I scared her.”
“Aye, because she ran off into the woods and disappeared. When I was a boy, me sister and I would have gotten a good clout for that because it’s dangerous.”
Daphne pressed her lips together. “A clout? From Lady Helena? I daenae believe that.”
“Well, ye had better. She’s nae all sweetness and pie. She was a strict mother. So, nay, I daenae think ye are a terrible mother. I think ye are close to the end of yer tether, and ye are afraid of losing yer little girl. And what’s this about me taking her from ye?”
Daphne flinched, reddening. “If she is yers—which she is—then of course ye would want her. Ye daenae have an heir. But for her to be yer heir, ye must raise her.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Ye have some strange ideas about how things work in the Highlands, lass. Remind me again, how long have ye been away?”
Her cheeks burned. Turning on her heels, she stamped the last few feet through the forest, bursting out onto the path. He caught a few angry mutters which seemed to be directed at him.
Oh, nay, ye daenae, he thought grimly, hurrying after her. He seized her wrist, turning her to face him.
“I am nae going to steal yer child,” he muttered, his voice low and urgent. He didn’t want the others to hear, but he’d be damned if she didn’t hear him. “She’s me daughter, aye, but yers too. Ye have birthed her and raised her. I’d never take her from ye, but I do want to be a part of her life.”
“Why? Ye daenae ken her,” Daphne whispered back. “Ye could have dozens of children all over the Highlands. Hundreds.”
“I daenae.”
“How could ye possibly ken that?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I just do.”
She blinked up at him, evidently confused.
He didn’t feel like explaining. No doubt when they got to Keep MacCrimmon, someone else would explain to her. It wasn’t as though his vow was a secret.
At last, as if remembering where she was and what was going on, she tugged her wrist free of his grasp and took a step back.
“Let me be clear,” she hissed. “I am here for Lady Pilbury. That woman has been so kind to me and Willow, and I willnae allow her to die alone. I daenae ken what I’ll do when she’s gone, but whatever I choose will have nothing to do with ye. Do ye hear me?”
Her words were sharp and clipped, like tiny blades. Hunter found himself flinching. He straightened up, folding his arms across his chest. If he tucked his hands into the crooks of his elbows, then maybe he wouldn’t feel inclined to reach out and take her hand again.
“I’ll nae disagree with that,” he said shortly. “But as I said, Willow is me daughter. I deserve to be a part of her life.”
She eyed him for a moment, then ran her tongue over her teeth.
“Aye, we agree there,” she allowed, dropping her gaze. “Now, I suppose we should get going. We’ve wasted enough time for now, and I daenae want to give me daughter the chance to collect more wildlife.”
“Amen to that.”
Tight-shouldered, Daphne spun on her heel and strode back up the path. She herded Willow into the carriage and, with only a brief delay and half a glance back at Hunter, climbed in herself. The door closed with an echoing bang.
Hunter stood where he was for a moment. Without the cover of the forest, he could feel the rain pattering over his head, soaking into the shoulders of his cloak and running down the nape of his neck. It should probably make him cold, but he didn’t feel cold.
I’ll feel it later, I suppose.
Grimly, he strode toward his patient horse. John, back from his little journey out to nature, eyed him curiously.
“Me Laird?” he prompted.
Hunter only grunted in response and swung himself up into the saddle.
“The rain is getting heavier, me Laird. Why nae travel inside?”
“Nae just yet,” Hunter responded brusquely. “I like the air.”
“Ye like the rain?” John echoed incredulously.
Hunter fixed him with a look. “Drive on,” he commanded.
He was obeyed.