“Sit, love,” Olivia instructed. “Warm yerself.”
Bread, honey, and a small dish of berries waited where a place had been set. Emma sat and poured herself a cup of tea. The steam rose and cleared the last fog from her mind.
Her eyes flicked back to the baby. “May I hold her?”
Catriona’s face softened. “Aye. Of course.”
Emma stood and reached for the child. Stella leaned toward her without fear, all weight and warmth. Emma settled the baby against her shoulder, one hand on her small back, the other finding the wobbling cap and straightening it.
Stella’s fingers found the ribbon in Emma’s hair and tugged again. Emma chuckled under her breath.
“She likes ye,” Catriona noted. “That’s good.”
“I think she likes the ribbon more. ‘Tis her second time pulling at it.”
“Oh well, ribbon or nae, she seemed to like being carried by ye.”
“Aye. I love babies,” Emma admitted, unaware of the consequences that statement would bring her in the next second.
Catriona watched the way Emma unconsciously swayed to soothe the child. Then she nodded, incredibly pleased. “Then I cannae wait to see ye hold one of yer own.”
Oh.
Emma felt the ground tilt a little under her shoes, and her breath caught. The spoon in Olivia’s hand went still as she shot her daughter a glare.
Emma swallowed and kept her voice even. “Tea is good here.”
Catriona blinked, then smiled, not at all sorry. “Aye. We keep a decent stock.”
Olivia mustered a smile. “I was just telling Catriona that her cook kens oats.”
“Ye’ll have better proof at supper,” Catriona quipped. “Though ye’ll forgive me if I say this hall shines most in winter. The big fireplace works a lot by then.”
Emma kissed the top of Stella’s head. “Warmth is warmth,” she said. “I’ll take it in any season over the cold.”
“I wish I could say the same about me son. Jack forgets the heat and cold when he has a purpose.”
Olivia arched an eyebrow. “Men often do.”
Catriona nodded. “If that isnae the truth.”
Emma shifted Stella to her other shoulder. The child giggled, a sound that seemed to brighten the room. Emma let the sound wash over her for a moment.
“May I take her down the hall?” she asked. “Just a turn. I think she might like it.”
Catriona looked surprised and then pleased. “Aye. Walk her past the windows. She likes the light. Nae the cold air though, so keep close.”
Emma turned to her mother. “Will ye come with me?”
Olivia rubbed her forehead with two fingers and gave a rueful smile. “I’ll stay, love. I’m too tired to walk. The ride made a fool of me bones.”
Emma raised an eyebrow. “Ye want me to wander these halls by meself?”
“I’ll go with ye,” Catriona offered, already rising. “Ye can show me how a MacFinn cares for a bairn.”
Olivia relaxed back into her chair. “I’ll keep the tea from going lonely.”
It was Emma’s turn to shoot her mother a glare, to which Olivia shrugged.
