Fergus drew the horse and sleigh to a halt on a hill overlooking the lands of Aldmist Fell. The fields were buried beneath snow, so there wasn’t much to show Mistress Gallagher, but he still took pride in the land under his care. He pointed toward the valley.
“When planting season arrives, that field will be full of bere.”
“Bear?” Mistress Gallagher turned wide eyes on him. “How horrible. What will you do?”
Fergus scratched his jaw. “Eh…”
“I saw a bear at the Royal Menagerie.” Gracie grinned up at him, pulled her hand from her fur muff to make a claw, then growled.
“Sassenachs,” he muttered toward the sky, shaking his head in mock distress. “No’ that kind of bear, lassie. Bere is a grain. Like barley.”
“Oh!” Mistress Gallagher said. “That sounds much safer.”
Gracie turned her curious gaze on him. “Are there really bears at Aldmist Fell?”
“No’ unless you brought one in your trunk,” Fergus replied.
Mistress Gallagher laughed, her blue eyes twinkling. “Scotland is such a strange land. I don’t know much about it.”
“It’s no’ so strange. You would grow to like it well enough if you lived here.”
Her merriment fled, and a small crease appeared between her brows as she directed her gaze straight ahead. “I didn’t mean to sound patronizing. I simply meant—”
Miss Gracie bolted from the seat. “Let’s have a look around!”
Fergus juggled the reins as she scrambled over him, kneeing him in the stomach.
“Oof!”
“Gracie!”
Mistress Gallagher reached for her charge, but the lassie was too quick. Her boots landed in the snow with a muffled thud as Fergus drew in a wheezing breath.
Mistress Gallagher froze, perhaps realizing she was draped across his lap. Her warm body so close elicited an ache in his lower belly that had nothing to do with the blow to his midsection.
“Come on!” Miss Gracie called to them. “Let’s roll down the hill.”
The lassie dropped into the snow and started her descent before either he or Mistress Gallagher could react.
“Wait!” Mistress Gallagher nearly fell as she clambered from her side of the sleigh.
“She’ll be unharmed,” Fergus said, watching as Gracie built up speed, her arms and legs flailing wildly. Her screeching laughter filled the air.
Mistress Gallagher stopped at the spot where Gracie had begun her descent. “How do you know? What if she knocks her head on a rock or worse? I promised Lavinia I would watch out for her.”
Fergus secured the reins and climbed from the sleigh, placing his arm around Mistress Gallagher’s shoulders just as she slipped on the snow. She inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away even after regaining her balance.
“You’re a good watcher, lass,” he said. “Your friend Lavinia will have nothing but praise for you.”
Miss Gracie reached the bottom of the slope and flopped on her back, giggling wildly. “That was fun,” she yelled. “I want to do it again.”
Mistress Gallagher looked up at him, the worry lines on her forehead fading. “She wasn’t hurt?”
“No’ unless all that giggling gives her a bellyache. Many a McTaggart has taken a roll down the hills, and everyone has lived to roll another day.”
Mistress Gallagher chuckled lightly. “You probably think I’m a ninny-hammer for worrying so much, but I owe Lavinia my life. I couldn’t live with myself if I disappointed her.”
“You feel you owe her for taking you with her when she left the brothel.”
