“Tell Ailsa that we love her!” Eilidh called after Vaila’s retreating form. When Vaila gave no acknowledgement, Eilidh’s dainty, fey features collapsed into a pout. “Nobody ever appreciates my help,” she complained, though there wasn’t any real ire to her words.
James found himself biting back a fond smile. Eilidh was sweet and fanciful, if a bit naive, and she always made him feel like he was playing the role of the protective elder brother, particularly when Eilidh’s actual elder brother, Graham Donaghey, was off protecting his Keep, the great Castle Dubh-Gheal, from Finlay Gordon, the villain who had been wreaking havoc on the Donagheys and their allies this past year.
“They appreciate ye plenty, lass,” he said, placing an affectionate pat on his shoulder before reaching for a polishing blade in his sporran to wipe down Vaila’s sword, which was dusty from training. “But ye cannae tell me that ye never rile your sisters on purpose.”
Eilidh pressed her lips together, clearly trying not to smile.
“Mayhap,” she allowed.
James didn’t bother to contain his laughter. Eilidh could be a little pest sometimes, but she was sweet as honey, too.
“What are ye going to do while ye wait for the babe?” he asked. “I gather it can take quite some time.”
Eilidh cast him a sidelong glance that was laden with feminine exasperation.
“Ikenthat it can take time, thank ye very much,” she said tartly. “I’m nae aman. I’ve seen babes born before.”
“I beg your pardon, lassie,” he said teasingly. “I bow to your expertise.”
She looked pleased at that.
“I’ll gather flowers,” she said in response to his earlier question. “A new baby should have sommat pretty to look at when they’re born, and if he or she doesnae like flowers, Ailsa does, so all will be well.”
James finished polishing Vaila’s sword, then reached out and ruffled Eilidh’s hair. She squeaked her objection and ducked away.
“Go off, then, lass,” he said. “Fetch your flowers. I have men to train.”
“Aye, aye,” she said. “Ye are very important. I’ll nae bother ye any longer.”
James strongly doubted thatthiswas true, but he didn’t really mind being bothered by Eilidh. He’d never had a family before marrying Vaila, and he hadn’t expected to like having sisters as much as he did. Technically, he supposed he also had a brother by marriage, too, but Graham Donaghey was too imposing for James to feel as close to him as he did the girls.
That brotherly instinct had him keep an eye on Eilidh as he guided his men through the remainder of their training session. She wandered idly through a nearby glen, stopping at apparently random intervals to pluck blossoms from the ground. He could vaguely see a growing bundle of white and purple blooms clutched in her fist.
Even with his attentiveness, James didn’t see anything amiss before he heard Eilidh shout. He’d been in the middle of rehearsing an advance move to separate an enemy from his blade with one of the guardsmen when her cry of surprise echoed through the glen.
James—along with every man in the training yard—whipped around, blades raised.
A dark shape was cutting across the horizon, speeding toward them. James blinked, and the shape turned into a horse, bolting toward them.
The men surged toward this unknown, unexpected arrival, though James noted that some younger, unmarried guards headed for Eilidh more directly than they did the arriving mount. As he ran, James tried to puzzle through this appearance. Was it a Buchanan horse returning home? If so, who was its rider? And where had they gone?
But even as he tried to make a mental accounting of who might have left the Keep that day, he saw something alarming.
There was someone atop that horse. Someone who was slumped over the horse’s neck, clearly unconscious—or at least pretending to be.
“Line up!” he roared to his men. “This could be another of Gordon’s tricks!”
James himself had spent a very unpleasant day enjoying Gordon’s dubious hospitality. He’d escaped with his life—not to mention Vaila’s—only because Graham Donaghey had arrived at precisely the right moment. The bastard was treacherous, and he would not gain a footing in Buchanan lands on James’ watch.
As the men, who had been running pell-mell toward Eilidh and the horse, reorganized themselves into formation, James noted with horror that Eilidh wasn’t moving back toward the approaching phalanx of potential protectors.
Instead, she tilted her head curiously and walked toward the thundering horse, her hand raised.
“Eilidh!” he roared, pumping his arms and legs even more furiously, even though he knew there was no chance of reaching her before she met the horse and its unknown rider. “Eilidh, get away!”
But she didn’t listen. Of course she didn’t listen. If there was anything that all four Donaghey sisters had in common, it was that they were all stubborn as rock itself when they got an idea in their minds.
The horse didn’t plow right through the slender lass, however. Instead, it trotted right up to her, slowing with a palpable aura of relief, as if it recognized Eilidh as a source of safety. When she was within touching distance, it nuzzled its nose against her palm.
