Chapter 9
“Tell me more about the two women,” Hunter demanded, frowning down at the map.
The location of that year’s Leanan Festival was circled, with notes scribbled on a piece of paper beside it. The women in question were both MacCrimmons, Rosie McCarthy and Moira Gentt. Both were just short of twenty and said to have been good, lifelong friends.
“Well, I cannae help but wonder whether they were both taken because they were convenient.” Magnus shrugged. “They would have been together, their families say.”
“And there’s nay sign of foul play? Nay blood, nay signs of a struggle? Nobody heard a scream?”
“Nay, but they’re saying that the Wolf moves in silence.”
Hunter let out a low breath, sitting back in his chair. “There are a hundred explanations for what could have happened to them in the dark. They could have fallen, could have gotten lost…”
“Both of them?”
He sighed. “I’m sorry that these women are missing, but where are our leads? How are we supposed to find them with nay evidence?”
“I daenae ken, but me concern is public opinion. Ye ken what people are like, me Laird. Panic is spreading through some of the villages. Only today, I heard of a man who locked his four daughters in the woodshed for days and stood guard outside. He seemed to think the Wolf was coming for them next, and was determined to protect them. He had good motives, I suppose, but ye should have seen the state of those poor lasses when we got them out.”
Hunter let out another sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “Wonderful. I couldnae think of a better welcome home than this.”
“I just need a few pointers on how to search for the girls and how to reassure the clansfolk that we have their best interests at heart,” Magnus stated.
Leaning forward, he rested his hands on the desk, staring intently at Hunter.
“Ye ken how delicate things have been with some of the lairds lately. We’d do well to get on top of this.
And if ye daenae mind me saying, yer sudden trip to England made people uneasy. ”
“That was for me mother.”
“Aye, I’m sure it was, but ye must admit, dashing off so that Lady Helena can visit an old friend looks a wee bit strange.
Daenae get angry with me,” he added, lifting his hands.
“I’m just telling ye what others will think.
Now is a tricky time, and it’s nae as if we’re on good terms with the English. ”
“Aye, but nae against individual folks. Lady Pilbury is a sweet old lady.”
“I’m sure she is, but just think on what I said, me Laird. Now, about the Wolf…”
Hunter sighed heavily and rose to his feet.
His head was already pounding. He felt sick and hungry, but no food had been offered.
The servants generally steered clear of the study when he was in here with Magnus.
He could send for food, of course, but Magnus had a way of making him feel like he was wasting time.
Not that he was complaining about his old friend. Without Magnus’s help, he would never feel secure enough to leave the keep at all. He was lucky to have a loyal man to help him. Some lairds didn’t even have that.
Moving over to the window, he stared out at the courtyard below. Weak sunshine washed the cobbles, casting long shadows.
He caught movement in one of the shadows. He blinked, leaning forward. A tiny ball of red fur frolicked across the stones, its mouth open in glee. He turned, paw raised, head tilted inquisitively, as if waiting for somebody out of sight.
Sure enough, a moment later, a little girl came skipping after the fox.
Willow, he thought, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
She had a small ball made of knotted fabric and tossed it high in the air. The fox leaped up, catching it in tiny, powerful jaws, and shook its head delightedly.
Laughing, Willow hurried to the fox, and they both began what looked like a complicated game.
The fox dodged this way and that, trying to prevent her from snatching the ball from its mouth.
It almost looked real, but the moment she stopped, distracted by something else, the fox stopped too, staring up at her as if to ask, Is the game over?
Hunter chuckled aloud.
Magnus appeared silently at his side, his gaze trained on the courtyard.
“Some children play with puppies or kittens,” Hunter observed wryly. “This wee lass finds herself a fox kit, of all things.”
Magnus said nothing for a moment. But when he spoke, his voice was heavy with disapproval.
“The bairn is the Englishwoman’s, is she nae? The young Englishwoman.”
“If ye are speaking of Daphne, she’s nae English. She’s a Highlander, and as Scottish as ye and I.”
Hunter felt Magnus shoot him a long, disapproving look. It seemed easier to pretend not to notice, so he kept his gaze on the courtyard, watching Willow and the fox play.
Had she decided what to name her new pet or not?
He would have to ask her.
A moment later, a woman stepped into view. Daphne, of course.
Her hair had come undone entirely from her knot, streaming down her back like a tangled curtain.
She folded her arms, laughing at Willow’s antics.
She had her back to the keep, and therefore to Hunter, but he felt a familiar tingle even so, a tug of wanting deep in his gut, a desire that threatened to turn him inside out.
The power of the sensation reminded him of that night under the willow tree. He’d meant to let her go on her way. Really, he had. And then he just… hadn’t.
A mistake. Or was it a mistake? When I look at Willow, I cannae think that.
When I look at Daphne, it doesnae seem like a mistake.
“So, this woman,” Magnus said shortly, cutting into his thoughts. “Care to tell me who she is?”
Hunter narrowed his eyes at him. “What are ye implying?”
Magnus shrugged. “I am implying nothing. I am implying that this woman has caught yer interest, and I’d like to ken what that means for us. By us, I mean yer clansfolk.”
Hunter turned to face his friend. Magnus returned his gaze placidly.
“She’s nothing to me,” Hunter said shortly. “But this is none of yer concern, man.”
“Oh, but it is me concern.” Magnus took a step forward. “Ye made a vow to the whole clan, or did ye forget?”
Hunter tightened his jaw. “Forget? Of course I didnae forget.”
“Well, just so long as ye remember. Because I remember. Ye must keep yer promises, me Laird. Ye ken that.”
“Who ever said I’d forgotten?”
“Well, I’m just reminding ye,” Magnus huffed. “I daenae want the pretty wee English lass to distract ye.”
“For the last bloody time, she’s nae English. And now, if ye will excuse me…” Hunter stepped past his friend, heading to the door.
“Wait a moment!” Magnus called after him. “We’re nae done.”
“The beauty of being Laird MacCrimmon,” Hunter shot back, “is that I get to decide when we’re done.
I need to stretch me legs, man. I need a rest. As for this business with the Wolf, choose a few clever men to investigate the missing women.
Look at their lives, where they might have gone during the festival, who they kent, what happened during the celebration, and so on.
Just investigate everything, and something will turn up.
Make sure the men are seen investigating.
The people need to ken that we’re taking this seriously. Aye?”
“Aye,” Magnus murmured sourly.
Hunter hurried out of the room, leaving the door swinging behind him.
He headed down the same long, narrow hallway he’d led Daphne through when they first entered the castle. As he approached the courtyard, he slowed.
Maybe Daphne and Willow wouldn’t appreciate his intrusion. After all, Willow had no idea who he was, and Daphne seemed terrified that she would find out.
Well, she will find out, he reminded himself grimly. Eventually.
He stepped out into the courtyard. The sun was warmer than it looked, the light bouncing off the cobblestones.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brightness after the gloom of the castle. Once he’d blinked a few times, however, things slid gradually into view.
Willow crouched on the ground, inspecting what appeared to be a large spider making its way across a cobblestone. The fox, too, was watching the spider, equally enthralled. The spider, probably sensing scrutiny, had come to an uneasy stop and waved one leg uncertainly in the air.
It would do well to stay still. The second that spider started scuttling, the fox would pounce on it. A snack.
Daphne stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, laughing. She’d stepped aside to greet a woman holding a basket of laundry, and now they were both talking in low voices about something or other.
Hunter took a few steps toward them. Daphne didn’t notice, but the laundrywoman did. She smiled at him, nodded her head, and murmured something to Daphne. Then she stepped away.
Daphne’s head whipped toward him, a frown on her face.
Willow glanced up at the same moment and gave a squeal of delight. “Hunter! Hunter!” she cried.
Scrambling to her feet, she set off at a sprint toward him, pursued by the fox. Behind them, the spider made a mad, thankful dash to safety.
Hunter blinked down at the approaching child. This was new to him. What should he do? Step aside? Crouch down to greet her?
No time to think it through. Willow leaped up, flinging her arms around his middle, and squeezed. He staggered back half a step, blinking down in amazement at the little girl hanging from his waist.
“I’m so glad ye came down to play with us,” Willow breathed, tilting back her head to look at him.
Her pointy chin dug into his stomach. “I called me fox River, by the way. He already kens what his name is. At least, I think it’s a he.
Lady Helena said that River would suit a lad or a lass, and I think she is right. ”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Hunter managed, patting her awkwardly on the head.
He’d seen little children run toward their fathers and leap into their arms before. The fathers always laughed, swinging their children around with confident ease.
I feel anything but confident.
At last, Willow released him, dropping down onto her feet.
“I want to show ye River’s tricks,” she said firmly.
“Tricks? Already?” he laughed.
She nodded very seriously. “He’s nae very good at his tricks. But it is early days.”
Hunter stifled another laugh at hearing the little girl use such a world-weary term.
“Do ye ken what early days means?” he asked, grinning.
She considered. “It means the morning.”
“Ahh, I see.”
At that moment, Daphne approached them slowly. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, letting her get closer and closer.
“Sit. River, sit,” Willow commanded.
The fox blinked up at her.
She sighed. “All right, we’ll try another one. River, lie down.”
Again, the fox stared at her.
“River, play dead.”
The fox settled delicately onto his haunches.
She gave a crow of delight. “See! See! Did ye see that! I told him to sit, and he did.”
“Aye, very nice,” Hunter agreed. He wasn’t going to burst her bubble. “Foxes are very hard to train, ye ken. I wouldnae be too disappointed if it doesnae go as well as ye would hope.”
“I daenae mind.” Willow shrugged, settling down cross-legged on the ground.
At once, the fox padded over to her and curled up in her lap, its pointed little face staring adoringly up at her.
“She has a knack with animals,” Daphne remarked. Those were the first words she had spoken to him since he stepped out into the courtyard. “She doesnae get it from me. I hate to say it, but I’m terrified of spiders and insects. I doubt I could train a puppy if me life depended on it.”
“Well, training isnae a knack, nae really,” he responded. “It’s a skill.”
She nodded slowly, turning a long, thoughtful stare towards him.
“Why are ye here, Hunter?” she asked.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Ye mean here in me castle?”
“Nay. I mean down here, in the courtyard. I got the impression ye came to find us. Perhaps I’m wrong, though. Perhaps ye are just passing through.”
Willow was no longer paying attention to either of the adults.
She and River had gone skipping a little way off, begging apples from a smiling maid carrying a crate of them.
The maid laughed, handing over a small, rosy piece of fruit.
Willow took it with a beaming smile. She eyed the apple, then glanced down at the expectant River.
After a moment, she took a large bite of the apple, chewing and swallowing.
Then she took a second bite, but spat out the piece of apple flesh immediately and handed it over to the fox.
River jumped up and took it carefully from her fingers, its white teeth flashing.
A lump formed in Hunter’s throat.
“She’s me daughter,” he whispered.
He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but it was too late now.
Daphne looked up sharply at him. He sensed her stiffening.
“Mine too,” she murmured.
He met her gaze squarely. “I want to be a part of me daughter’s life. Did I nae make that clear? And that means I will be a part of yer life, too.”
Was she thinking about the kiss when she looked at him? Maybe.
He hoped not. That was foolish. She’d been taken by surprise, no doubt. He should not have put her in that position.
I willnae do it again. She deserves better.
Daphne cleared her throat. “Do ye resent me?”
“Why in God’s name would I resent ye?”
“Because men who have unexpected children sometimes blame the woman.”
“Well, I daenae have a skull full of marbles for a brain. I daenae blame ye. Look, Daphne, I am ready to take on me responsibility. If I’d ken about Willow before, I would have done it then. I will keep ye safe. I will protect ye, and provide for ye. Both of ye.”
She stared up at him, a frown creasing her brow. “But it’s about Willow?” she muttered, almost too quietly for him to hear.
It was a question, but she shook her head immediately after asking it and turned away.
“Willow, lass,” she called. “Come here. We’re going back inside.”
Willow, who had by now eaten the apple almost down to the core, turned around, dismayed. “Just a few more minutes, Mama!”
“No more minutes. We’ve had a very long journey. Ye need to rest and sleep, and I need to check on Lady Pilbury. Inside.”
Willow sighed. “Can I play tomorrow?”
“Aye, if ye are good.”
She nodded and skipped over to them, the fox loping behind her.
“We have more to discuss,” Hunter muttered, before the little girl could reach them.
“I have me daughter to care for. And, as I said, Lady Pilbury may need me help,” Daphne responded, avoiding his eyes.
He felt as though he had said something wrong, but what?
“Very well.” He nodded. “Go off and do what ye must. We’ll talk more at dinner. Do ye need a gown? If so, there are seamstresses in the castle, and fabric—”
“I have dresses.”
There was a long, taut silence. She stared at her feet. He stared at her. Willow reached them and glanced expectantly between their faces.
“I thought we were going in, Mama?”
Daphne blinked. “Aye, we are. I’ll see ye tonight, me Laird.”