For a second, Kristen did not know what she was looking at. Then the cloth moved.
She froze. Davina’s fingers found her sleeve and tugged. A maid near the wall clapped a hand over her mouth.
“God above,” someone whispered.
Kristen moved closer and knelt down beside the basket, drawing the cloth back. A baby lay inside, it couldn’t be more than a few months old. Its tiny fists rose in the air, and its eyes opened and blinked at the hall as if the world were a new room it had not agreed to enter.
“Who are ye?” Kristen whispered.
“Me sister, Anna,” a little voice came from behind a bush, and soon enough, a little boy of around three showed up and approached shyly.
“Whose are they?” a footman asked. “Left here like lambs.”
“Who would put them down and run?” a maid asked. “Lord have mercy.”
“I sent men after whoever dropped them. They cannae have gone far,” Lachland said, his voice rough.
Kristen did not answer. She reached a finger to the boy’s chin and touched him as if he were a figment of her imagination. He tensed at first but soon smiled at her.
Something inside her melted and knit at the same time.
“And who are ye, sweetie?”
“I’m Finn, me Lady. Ma said father was here.”
Lachlan leaned close to her ear. “Ye see it, do ye nae? The resemblance.”
Kristen studied the children closely. The dark sweep of the boy’s brow, the curve of the girl’s mouth. It hit her like a bell struck once.
“Aye,” she whispered, her eyes stinging. “They look like Neil.”
Davina let out a slow breath. The servants shifted and stared and stopped themselves from stepping nearer.
“And that is why,” Kristen added, her voice steadier, “we willnae send them away to the village. Perhaps it is a sign he is still out there.”
Lachlan snorted. “A sign that Neil’s been sleeping around with women and dropping bairns at our doorstep.”
Kristen flinched, before slowly turning to him. “If that is true, then it isnae their fault,” she hissed. “They are here, and they are cold, and they need to be fed. We can judge the rest later.”
Lachlan’s jaw relaxed, and he looked toward the rain.
Kristen slipped her hands under the boy and lifted him. He was warm and heavier than he looked. He settled against her with a small sigh and thanked her quietly. Her heart ached and swelled at once, like a wound that had found the right bandage.
“Do ye ken one of childhood friends’ name is Finn?” she whispered to him. “I love that name.”
Davina’s face softened. “A good name.”
Kristen blinked away tears.
Davina slipped her arms under the little girl and rose, rocking her slowly. The baby’s eyes were dark and steady. She did not cry. She only watched as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, her tiny tongue poking out as if tasting air.
“And this wee lass must come inside at once,” Davina murmured.
Kristen met the girl’s eyes just once. Something in her chest clicked into place and held fast.
She turned in a circle, so everyone nearby could see the boy in her arms and the resolve on her face.
“Heat the small nursery by the east wall,” she instructed. “Boil water. Find goat’s milk and warm it. Send for clean clothes while ye do that. Lay them near the fireplace, and nay one breathes on them. We will find a nurse before nightfall.”
