He glared at her, battling with the urge to scoop her up and carry her to his bedchamber or turn her over his knee and redden her arse for her. Or both. “Ye dare speak to yer chieftain in such a rude manner?”
“I dare to speak the truth to my chieftain.” She angled her chin defiantly and stared him down.
“What are ye shouting about?” Bella asked from the doorway.
“We are not shouting,” Gunn said. “We are merely having a heated discussion.”
The child rolled her eyes. “Ye always say that when I catch ye arguing with someone.” She shook a small finger at him, just as Lorna had done earlier. “Be nice to Mistress Lorna, ye ken?”
Before he could answer, Lorna swept past him, beaming a smile at the wee lass. “He is always nice to me, Bella. I have a temper and get loud when I feel passionate about a subject. He got loud to ensure I heard him over my own stormy emotions.”
Bella eyed Lorna and then him as if weighing the explanation for a kernel of truth. “What were ye fighting about?”
Lorna gave him a wily tip of her head. “Go ahead. Ye have my permission to tell her.”
Cunning minx. She knew good and well he would not wish to tell Bella the truth.
He blew out a frustrated snort and resettled his stance. Sparring with this woman required more intricate parries and thrusts than any battle. Then his gaze settled on Bella’s cittern. “She suggested I bring in one of the stringed instruments from abroad, a fiddle, for ye to learn, since ye play the cittern with such ease.” He paused, struggling to come up with a harmless lie. “But I would rather ye concentrate more on yer stitchery and yer Latin.”
His daughter did not look convinced. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest and fixed him with a squinty glare. “Ye usually make up better stories than that when ye dinna want me to know what ye really said.”
“Go eat yer jam and bread, aye?” He shooed the child away. “And dinna overfeed the hounds. Ye have already rendered them useless as protection for ye.”
Bella turned to Lorna. “Will ye tell me?”
Lorna smiled and shook her head. “Not today, my fine wee one. Sometimes things must be left to the adults. Ye will understand once ye are grown.”
With a frustrated huff and another roll of her eyes, Bella went back into the solar and closed the door behind her.
“Thank ye,” he said. “I appreciate ye not turning my daughter against me.”
“I would never do that. No matter what we might agree or disagree on, I would never do anything to harm the relationship between ye and Bella. It is a precious thing that I consider sacred.” Lorna’s smile turned sad. “I never experienced that as a child. I am glad the two of ye have such a close relationship.”
“I am sorry.” He lowered his head. “Both for the fact that ye never knew yer father and also for the way I behaved earlier. I should not have taken advantage of ye in such a brutish manner. It is my hope ye can forgive me.”
“On one condition.” The way she eyed him made him brace himself.
“And that is?”
“Think about what I said. All of it.” She shook a finger at him. “Not just the part about kissing me without my permission, but the other stuff. About fighting those inner demons.” True caring and concern shone in her eyes.
“Why?” he asked softly.
“Because I like ye.” She moved past him and rested her hand on the door latch. “Now come on wi’ ye. Have some jam and bread with yer daughter.”
“What if there is not enough?”
She arched a brow and grinned. “Then ye can go to the kitchens and fetch more.”
Chapter Ten
“Ilike thepatchwork one the best.” Frances picked up the multicolored kitten that looked like God had splattered it with every color of the palette. He snuggled it into the crook of his neck, smiling as it purred louder than the others. “He is a braw wee beastie.”
“He is probably a she.” Lorna angled her head to the side and caught a peek beneath its tiny tail. “Aye, ye have yerself a wee lassie there. Most calicos are.” She scooped up its littermate, a mewing orange tabby. “We should name this one Jasper. They have the same color hair.”
Bella and Hesther giggled, but Frances was too engrossed in cuddling his favorite kitten. Three more littermates of varying colors rooted and pounced through the loose straw while their mother looked on from her perch atop the gatepost of the stall.
Lorna gathered her cloak tighter around her and leaned back against the boards. The stable was by no means warm, but it was bearable, and they all needed some fresh air. It had been two weeks, or at least she thought it had, since her tumble back through time. She missed Gracie. Lonnie and Cybil. And her shop. And every convenience she had ever taken for granted. As she scratched behind the ginger cat’s ears, she wondered what her friends were doing and what they thought about her disappearance.
