“Aye, it’s good enough for us.” Annie contemplated her tea idly and then looked up at Molly. “And tell me, my dear, what do ye make of Conall?”
Molly felt her cheeks grow warm at the mention of his name. “He’s...well, he’s certainly interesting.”
Annie’s eyes twinkled. “That’s one way of putting it. He’s a bit of a wild one, that boy. But he’s got a good heart. And he’s got his father’s good looks, too.”
Molly felt a blush rise up her neck and she looked down at her cup, suddenly very interested in her tea.
“Leave the lass alone, woman!” James said from his seat by the fire. “Canna ye stop yer match-making for one moment?”
Annie chuckled. “My apologies, my dear. But dinna worry, ye are not the first to be taken with him. He’s a bit of a stubborn one. Takes after his father in that regard as well. If they were both a little less stubborn, perhaps they could have sorted out their differences a long time ago.”
“They...um...” Molly began, thinking through how she wanted to phrase her question. “They don’t seem particularly...close.”
Annie sighed. “Nay. They aren’t, more’s the pity. I’m not privy to what happened between the two of them, but I do know both a poorer for it. Families, eh? The source of our greatest happiness and our greatest hurt.”
Molly nodded. She knew the truth of that all too well.
She leaned back in her chair, feeling content and comfortable. For the first time since arriving at the castle, she felt like she could breathe easy. She watched James and Annie, noticing the way they looked at each other. It was clear they had a love that was pure and deep.
What would it be like to have that kind of bond with someone? To share all the ups and downs of life knowing they always had your back?
As they sipped their tea, Annie and James regaled Molly with tales of their life on the loch. They talked about how they had met when they were both young, and how they had fallen in love almost immediately.
They told stories of the hard winters, when they had to spend weeks indoors, bundled up in blankets and huddled around the fire, and of the summers, when the loch was alive with activity and they would spend their days fishing and swimming.
Molly listened with rapt attention, enjoying the companionship and the home-cooked food that Annie insisted on serving her, and it was only much later that Molly realized she had completely lost track of time. She glanced up at the window and saw that the sun was already starting to sink low in the sky.
“Oh, I have to go!” she said, getting up from the table. “I didn’t mean to stay so long.”
But before she could move, there was a knock at the door. Annie heaved herself up from her chair and went to answer it.
“Ah! There ye are! I was wondering if ye would find the time to come visit!”
“Annie. It’s good to see ye.”
Molly swiveled at the sound of the familiar, deep voice, and saw Conall ducking his head under the lintel as he stepped inside. He had changed out of his normal attire and wore rich, expensive-looking clothes with the Sinclair plaid swathing his big frame. His hair was slightly tussled from the breeze outside and his cheeks were flushed from walking, but he looked every inch the nobleman rather than the rough sailor she was used to.
His gray eyes locked on hers, and Molly felt a flush rush through her.
“Molly,” he said softly. “I’m glad ye are here.”
“I...I was just leaving,” she stuttered, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.
“Well dinna just stand there, lad!” James called, gesturing to a seat at the table. “There’s room for one more. Come, sit, and I’ll open that cask of whisky I’ve been saving.”
“We really should be getting back to the keep—” he began.
“Nonsense!” Annie said, cutting him off. She took his arm and steered him to the table. “Ye willnae escape that easily. We havenae seen ye in years and we want to know all about yer adventures.”
Conall allowed himself to be led to the table. As he sat down, Molly couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to fill the small space with his presence. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him, seeming comfortable in James and Annie’s small home, as though it was intimately familiar.
He smiled at Annie. “I see my father hasnae talked ye into becoming the castle cook yet.”
“Not through lack of trying, I can tell ye. But my weaving gives me plenty to do here. Besides, I dinna think being in charge of feeding several hundred grumpy guardsmen would be much fun, do ye?”
Conall laughed. “Fair enough.”
James poured them all a cup of whisky and handed them around. “So, lad,” he said. “Where have ye been all this time? We could have used ye here.”
