Leah almost wanted to smile at his naivete. Much as he had disregarded what she considered a significant sum of money, she appeared to be much wealthier when it came to an understanding of Highland communities.
“Fox . . .allof these workmen will be coming from the local communities down the glen—Fettermill, Edzell, Brechin. Ye are a newcomer here, and you’ve taken me as your wife. Everyone will want tae know what is going on up at Laverloch. The fact that ye have a ward will be the discussion over every new pint at the Lion Arms for the next year. Madeline will be anythingbuta secret.”
“So we will hire workmen from farther afield.”
“I must politely disagree with yourself on this.” Leah’s boldness surprised even her. “It would be too difficult tae get men from afar, not tae mention produce ill-will with the locals. They want your coin. Ye willnae stop tongues from wagging, but at least if they like ye, they’ll have your back. We protect our own.”
Fox pinched the bridge of his nose. “So we will be careful. Besides, as I said, I imagine most workers would pay no mind to one small girl. She will merely blend in with the woodwork.”
He was going to make her say it, wasn’t he?
Very well.
“One wee girl, aye. But Fox—” She waited until he looked at her. “She’s one small girl who resembles yourself tae a startling degree.”
Fox froze, looking far too much like a cornered rabbit for Leah’s peace of mind.
Well.
She supposed that was her answer, was it not?
Silence . . . the buzzing, frantic sort.
“You believe . . .” He paused, swallowing, eyes dropping to his hands on the tabletop. “You believe she looks like me?”
“Very much so. Seeing ye together this morning, eating . . .” Leah waved a hand to indicate the leftover scones. “The resemblance is somewhat uncanny.”
Fox let out a soft, slow breath.
Leah continued, “And if I noticed so quickly, others will, too. It will only serve to pique interest and set gossips tae talking. Honestly, it would likely be easier to keep her presence under wraps were ye living in London. A large metropolis at least affords ye some anonymity. But here . . .”
Fox pushed back the bench and stood up, both hands clasped behind his back. He surveyed the high kitchen windows and even higher ceiling, the worn range, the hanging copper pots in need of polishing . . . gaze falling everywhere but on her.
“I’m your wife, Fox,” Leah said into the well of his continued silence. “Can ye not tell me even the most basic facts of Madeline’s life? I want tae ensure her safety, but without knowing what I’m protecting her against, I’m sailing blind . . .” Her voice drifted off.
Fox did not fill the silence.
“Will ye tell meanythingabout her?” Leah finally asked, absurdly close to tears.
He had warned her, had he not? It was the height of foolishness on her part to expect the situation to be different from what he had said.
He could tell her nothing about Madeline.
Theirs would be a marriage of convenience.
And here Leah was, barely twenty-four hours in, and already those two stipulations chafed.
She was fifty ways a fool.
“WhatcanI tell you?” He finally turned back to her, weariness stamped once more onto his expression. “I can tell you that Madeline giggles when she runs. That she isn’t afraid of the dark but is terrified of being left out. She is fearlessly curious about everything, and the wordNobounces off her like a musket ball off these thick castle walls. She is forever running away, panicking us who are charged with her care, but never herself, becauselostisn’t a state she feels. She is always right where she means to be.”
Well.
That was certainly . . . insightful.
His words created a deep pang in her chest, that he would love and know this wee lass so thoroughly.
“But . . . her mother?” Leah placed the question tentatively.
