Balancing the boxes on one hip, she looked up the winding stone staircase to the right of the entry hall. Nothing stirred but the colorful tapestries hung along the rough gray surface of the ancient stone walls. She eased a step closer to the base of the stairs, anticipation building like a boiling teakettle about to whistle. Trish held her breath and angled an ear toward the archway. Any minute now a dozen thundering feet should echo from the upper region of the castle. She listened closer. Nothing. How odd. Especially for her favorite bunch of imps.
Sucking in enough air to force a shout into every level of the keep, Trish bellowed another enticement, “I don’t hear you, my little curtain climbers. I guess I’ll have to take all these gifts back to the store since there is no one here who wants them.”
She slid the armload of brightly wrapped bundles onto the marble-topped entry table, pausing once she’d relieved herself of the arm-numbing load to drum her fingers on the uppermost box. Surely the promise of gifts would get the little rascals moving.
A shrill war whoop cracked the silence, bouncing off the beams of the high ceilings, and was followed by repeated booms of multiple slamming doors. The pounding of a herd of scurrying feet became louder as they emerged from the depths of the second floor.
“Auntie Trish! Auntie Trish!” A cacophony of excited shrieks and the thud of little bodies ricocheted down from the second floor, nearly rattling the stained glass windows in their casings.
“Do you have any idea how many times I have told themnotto run down that staircase?” Nessa heaved a tired sigh as she waddled through the stone archway.
“Oh, give me a break, Nessa. You know as well as I do that any kind of staircase holds a special kind of magic for kids.” Joy filled Trish’s heart to near bursting as she spotted the first curly mop of silvery blond hair bouncing around the corner. “Especially with your lively bunch.” Amazement raised Trish’s hand to the base of her throat. “My gosh, they’ve grown at least a foot since the last time I was here.”
The boisterous jumble of young children spilled down the last bend of the staircase like bees swarming from the hive. The chattering group surrounded Trish with a jostling flurry of sharp little elbows and flying hands vying for her embrace.
“Whoa, minions!” Trish laughed as the crashing wave of little bodies scooted her sideways across the floor. “Hold on, you wicked little beasts. You know I’ve got enough hugs for all.” Trish buried herself in the wiggling bunch, swallowing hard against the lump of emotions threatening to cut off her air. Damn, she had been away too long this time. They weren’t babies anymore. She sucked in a deep breath, inhaling the squeaky clean scent of each and every child then closed her eyes against the sting of happy tears. She had missed this rowdy bunch.
Straightening from the stranglehold of little arms, Trish rested a hand atop the nearest tousled head. “My goodness, I have never smelled such a clean bunch. Have all of you already had your baths for the evening?”
Nessa cleared her throat and five pairs of little eyes swiveled in her direction. “Your minions will be going to bed early tonight…tothinkabout the results of poor choices.”
A collective groan rose from the group as they pressed closer to Trish. The boy closest to Trish’s elbow looped a spindly arm tighter around her waist as he pouted a quivering lower lip toward Nessa. “But Momma, we want to stay up and visit with Auntie Trish.” His wide eyes glistened with unshed tears as he snuggled his curly brown head up under Trish’s arm. “And besides, it was Ramsay’s fault. He tricked us. Ye know he’s the troublemaker.”
Trish frowned. WherewasRamsay? Waving a finger through the air, she pointed at the top of each little head, silently adding up the number of bodies milling around her.Three…four…five.Five? Trish touched the curls of each slightly damp head and called out their names. “Catriona, Beathan, Hamish, Sawny, and Gordon. Where is my sixth minion? What have you done with my Ramsay?”
Catriona and Beathan tightened their little mouths into unhappy flat lines and shuffled a few steps back. “Auntie Nessa told Cousin Ramsay not to come down from the north tower ’til he cleaned up the terrible mess.”
Trish turned to the three boys still crowding her elbows. “What did your brother do this time?”
All three boys glowered dark looks at Catriona and Beathan, then turned solemn faces toward Nessa and clamped their mouths shut.
Wow.What a reaction. Trish scanned the guilt-ridden faces of all five children. Nessa’s sons never clammed up when it came to sharing their latest adventures with Auntie Trish. The little mischief makers always included her in the excitement no matter how far away she might wander with her latest archeological dig. They all had her cell phone number and if they couldn’t sneak a call, their text messages kept her updated on every detail. Fiona and Brodie’s twins were never far behind either when it came to keeping her entertained. The wild crop of MacKay youngsters filling this corner of the Highlands invariably had some sort of mayhem cooking and Trish loved it when they kept her abreast of the latest plot.
“What did they do this time, Nessa?” Trish didn’t miss how the patches of red staining the boys’ cheeks grew brighter with each passing moment. Whatever the bunch had done this time, it must’ve been really bad.
“Never mind.” Nessa herded the children into a tighter cluster and pointed them toward the staircase. Casting a meaningful look back over her shoulder, she locked gazes with Trish. “I’ll talk to you about it later.”
Nessa returned her attention to the sheepish group of children milling about and directed them with a stern jerk of her chin. “As for all of you”—Nessa took another step toward the stairway and jabbed a pointing finger toward the second floor—“you’ve finished your hellos with Auntie Trish. Now back up those steps and into your rooms. Your punishment still stands.”
A disappointed groan floated up from the youngsters as they wilted before Trish’s eyes. Poor munchkins. Always into something. Surely, whatever they had done couldn’t have been all that bad.
The children shuffled up the staircase, ascending the steps with about as much speed as thick molasses in the dead of winter. Hamish paused at the back of the group, his small hand white-knuckling the top of the mahogany banister. “I just want ye to know, Momma.” He puffed out his chest a bit farther and sniffed in a hitching breath. “Ye don’t have to worry about me listening to Ramsay no more. I’ll ne’er follow his lead again.”
“Anymore, Hamish. You won’t listen to Ramsayanymore.” Nessa graced her son with a loving smile as she nodded toward the second floor again. “I’m glad to hear that you’re going to think for yourself from now on rather than let Ramsay talk you into foolhardy choices. Now up to your room, young man. Your father will be home in a few days and he’s going to have a nice long chat with all of you about your behavior today.”
Hamish’s face grew even longer. “Yes, Momma.” His shoulders slumped as he ducked his head and joined the rest of the group. Moving as one, the unhappy children huddled together and continued up the wide stone steps winding against the curved wall.
Trish shook her head as Nessa turned to face her. “What in the world did they do this time?” Her untouched gifts for the children caught her eye, dampening her glad-to-be-back mood. “You didn’t even let them have their presents.”
Nessa blew out a weary sigh as she rubbed the inside corners of her eyes. “They can have their gifts tomorrow.Afterthey’ve had enough alone time to mull over the error of their ways.”
Trish studied Nessa’s drawn weary face. Nessa looked like crap. Apparently, mothering the brood of Clan MacKay was quite a strain of late. “By the way”—Trish nodded toward Nessa’s rounded middle—“have you found out how many or which flavor you’re going to have this time?”
“Just one, thank goodness.” A glowing smile brightened Nessa’s tired face. “And we’re having a little girl. Catriona’s very excited about increasing the ranks of the females.”
“I don’t blame her.” Out of the corner of her eye, Trish noticed a slight movement behind the enormous tapestry covering the archway leading to the north tower. Taking care to turn so her body blocked the view of the small brown boots peeping out from under the golden fringe of the hanging, Trish unbuttoned her jacket and fanned it wide like a pair of outspread wings. “Whew! Isn’t it kind of warm in here? I figured this late into December, the castle would be much cooler.” There had to be a way to get Nessa out of the entry hall so Ramsay wouldn’t be discovered.
Nessa swiped a few damp curls away from her forehead. “Sorry. Someone must’ve turned up the heat.” Pulling a crumpled hankie from the side pocket of her shirt, Nessa pressed it against her throat. “I figured it was just me. The bigger I get, the more my personal thermostat gets out of whack. I bet I could heat up the entire tip of Scotland.” Nessa bent sideways and motioned toward Trish’s lone suitcase leaning against the curved legs of the entry table. “Are Dougal’s clothes in there too? The two of you are certainly traveling light these days.”
