to be escorted
to the kitchens." At the look of bewilderment on the squire's face, she
explained, "It contains my medicinal herbs. I want to brew a tisane of
watermint for Robbie. The concoction will ease his stomach pains."
Lachlan
nodded, but a look of discomfort crossed his features. He made no move to
leave.
"Is
my request too difficult?"
"Nay."
A pink tinge stained his cheeks. " ‘Tis only that my lord will expect your
presence at the high table."
"Then
make haste on your errand, and I shall have no need to tarry." Linnet
arched a brow at the squire, amazed at her own nerve. "The sooner Robbie
can drink the tisane, the sooner he and I can take our places at your
master's table."
Lachlan's
jaw dropped, and his eyes grew round, but he bowed again and hurried away.
A
short time later, after he'd returned with her herbal pouch and escorted her to
the kitchens, Linnet made her way to Robbie's dismal tower chamber with a
steaming beaker of watermint. Lachlan followed silently behind her, lighting
the way with a rush torch.
Preferring
to be alone with the boy, Linnet entered the room and closed the door, leaving
the squire to wait in the corridor. Robbie slumbered peacefully, so she took a
moment to glance around the chamber. She found it sorely lacking in warmth and
almost as bleak as her new husband's solar. Mayhap more so because no
tapestries graced the walls.
Only
the embroidered bedcurtains gave the stark room a semblance of color. A
child-sized ladderback chair stood near the hearth, and a small table of dark
oak had been placed next to the bed. A clump of wilted wildflowers lay upon
the tabletop, and the ancient-looking mongrel slept curled at the foot of the
child's bed.
As
before, the dog opened one eye, looked at her, and went back to sleep.
Satisfied the enormous beast posed no threat, she crossed the room and gazed
down at the sleeping child.
Her
new stepson.
A
child apparently as shunned by his father as she had been by hers ... albeit
for very different reasons.
Her
heart ached at the small boy's plight. Unable to help herself, she reached out
and stroked his hair.
Immediately,
he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, staring up at her with dark blue
eyes so like his father's her breath caught in her throat. Except her husband's
eyes held such a perpetually dark expression she'd initially mistaken their
color for black.
Linnet
let out her breath on a gentle sigh and gave the lad a tender smile. She
couldn't yet speak, could only stare in wonderment at the sheer perfection of
the boy's face. In truth, Robbie MacKenzie looked so much like her husband she
broke out in gooseflesh.
How
could the man doubt the lad was his own flesh and blood? ‘Twas impossible not
to see the resemblance.
Robbie
was a miniature version of his handsome father. But where the father's beauty
was marred by grimness and distrust, the son had the face of an angel.
Trusting,
good, and pure.
An
incredible feeling of compassion welled up in Linnet, filling her with warmth
and a fierce desire to protect the child from harm.
And
from unhappiness.
Especially
from unhappiness.
All
of a sudden she was very glad she'd come to Eilean Creag. No matter what Duncan
MacKenzie thought of her... whether he found her too homely to bed or not, his
child needed her and she would do her best to assure Robbie received the love
and happiness he deserved.
As
she gazed down at him, very close to tears, so overwhelmed by emotion was she,
the boy pushed himself up on his elbows. "Are you my new mother?" he
asked. "Cook said you were coming."
"Aye,
Robbie, I suppose I am. Your father and I were wed this morn." Linnet took
a seat on the edge of the bed. "Would you like me to be your new
mother?"
He
regarded her solemnly for a moment before answering. "Aye, I would. You
have the bonniest hair I've e'er seen."
Linnet's
heart swelled, and heat stung the backs of her eyes. None save her brothers had
e'er paid her compliments and even those were
to the kitchens." At the look of bewilderment on the squire's face, she
explained, "It contains my medicinal herbs. I want to brew a tisane of
watermint for Robbie. The concoction will ease his stomach pains."
Lachlan
nodded, but a look of discomfort crossed his features. He made no move to
leave.
"Is
my request too difficult?"
"Nay."
A pink tinge stained his cheeks. " ‘Tis only that my lord will expect your
presence at the high table."
"Then
make haste on your errand, and I shall have no need to tarry." Linnet
arched a brow at the squire, amazed at her own nerve. "The sooner Robbie
can drink the tisane, the sooner he and I can take our places at your
master's table."
Lachlan's
jaw dropped, and his eyes grew round, but he bowed again and hurried away.
A
short time later, after he'd returned with her herbal pouch and escorted her to
the kitchens, Linnet made her way to Robbie's dismal tower chamber with a
steaming beaker of watermint. Lachlan followed silently behind her, lighting
the way with a rush torch.
Preferring
to be alone with the boy, Linnet entered the room and closed the door, leaving
the squire to wait in the corridor. Robbie slumbered peacefully, so she took a
moment to glance around the chamber. She found it sorely lacking in warmth and
almost as bleak as her new husband's solar. Mayhap more so because no
tapestries graced the walls.
Only
the embroidered bedcurtains gave the stark room a semblance of color. A
child-sized ladderback chair stood near the hearth, and a small table of dark
oak had been placed next to the bed. A clump of wilted wildflowers lay upon
the tabletop, and the ancient-looking mongrel slept curled at the foot of the
child's bed.
As
before, the dog opened one eye, looked at her, and went back to sleep.
Satisfied the enormous beast posed no threat, she crossed the room and gazed
down at the sleeping child.
Her
new stepson.
A
child apparently as shunned by his father as she had been by hers ... albeit
for very different reasons.
Her
heart ached at the small boy's plight. Unable to help herself, she reached out
and stroked his hair.
Immediately,
he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, staring up at her with dark blue
eyes so like his father's her breath caught in her throat. Except her husband's
eyes held such a perpetually dark expression she'd initially mistaken their
color for black.
Linnet
let out her breath on a gentle sigh and gave the lad a tender smile. She
couldn't yet speak, could only stare in wonderment at the sheer perfection of
the boy's face. In truth, Robbie MacKenzie looked so much like her husband she
broke out in gooseflesh.
How
could the man doubt the lad was his own flesh and blood? ‘Twas impossible not
to see the resemblance.
Robbie
was a miniature version of his handsome father. But where the father's beauty
was marred by grimness and distrust, the son had the face of an angel.
Trusting,
good, and pure.
An
incredible feeling of compassion welled up in Linnet, filling her with warmth
and a fierce desire to protect the child from harm.
And
from unhappiness.
Especially
from unhappiness.
All
of a sudden she was very glad she'd come to Eilean Creag. No matter what Duncan
MacKenzie thought of her... whether he found her too homely to bed or not, his
child needed her and she would do her best to assure Robbie received the love
and happiness he deserved.
As
she gazed down at him, very close to tears, so overwhelmed by emotion was she,
the boy pushed himself up on his elbows. "Are you my new mother?" he
asked. "Cook said you were coming."
"Aye,
Robbie, I suppose I am. Your father and I were wed this morn." Linnet took
a seat on the edge of the bed. "Would you like me to be your new
mother?"
He
regarded her solemnly for a moment before answering. "Aye, I would. You
have the bonniest hair I've e'er seen."
Linnet's
heart swelled, and heat stung the backs of her eyes. None save her brothers had
e'er paid her compliments and even those were
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