“I said, ye may enter,” he said, louder now.
The lock turned, and the door eased open without ceremony. Bettie slipped in, hands clasped behind her back, smile too neat to be an accident.
Alex exhaled, the slight annoyance on his face fading almost immediately. “Little bee. ‘Tis ye.”
“Da,” she said, sweet as milk. “Will ye come read to us?”
He let out a breath through his nose. “I am a wee bit busy now, little bee. I will come later.”
“Nay,” she answered at once. “Ye have to come now.”
His mouth moved toward a protest when a shadow filled the doorway. Calum leaned a shoulder against the frame, lips already stretched in a grin he did not bother to hide.
Bettie turned to him as if she had expected her ally. “Tell Da he has to come now.”
Calum’s eyes warmed. “I daenae think ye are winning this war, me Laird.”
Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and then let his hand fall to his side. “I am losing to a child who cannae reach the top shelf.”
“She can reach yer pride,” Calum said.
Alex groaned. “Fine,” he said. “Fine, I will come.”
Bettie did not cheer, but Alex could see the way the triumph sat quiet on her shoulders. She seized his hand like a keeper of oaths and tugged. He slid the top ledger farther from the edge, set the pen on the stand, and let himself be pulled.
Calum stepped aside, laughing already.
“I will come later,” he called after them.
Alex shot him a look over his shoulder. “Traitor.”
Calum gave him a small salute.
They turned right at the first corner, and Alex marked it in his head. The nursery lay left and up. Bettie chose the old gallery passage, the one that ran along the inner wall, where the lightfell thin and even. A maid with a basket dipped her head as they passed, but Bettie’s grip held firm.
“We are going to the library,” Alex noted.
“Aye,” Bettie said, bright and sure. “We daenae want to read in the nursery today. We are hiding from the nurse.”
“If ye are hiding from the nurse,” he said, “ye shouldnae tell me. I am bound to report ye to the law.”
She squeezed his fingers. “Yeare the law.”
“That is the trouble,” he said.
They reached the library door. It stood on the lock, a finger space open. Bettie pushed with her shoulder, and the hinges gave.
The room held its usual smell of leather and old heat as the shelves rose to the beams. Someone had set a chair near the lamp as if for a reader who did not wish to squint. The fireplace kept only a thin red line under ash, and on the long table, three neat stacks had been made and left.
Alex looked around once. “Where is Katie?” he asked.
Bettie cupped her hands and called, “Katie.” The name went out to the stacks and came back soft.
“She isnae here,” Alex said.
Bettie nodded, as if the answer fit a plan. “I will go get her,” she said. “Stay here. Daenae move.”
He lifted one brow. “All right.”
