“She was born that way,” Francesca replied dryly.
“So, you’ll come?” Eloise pressed, undeterred by his deflection. “And Aunt Francesca, too? It could be a family outing!”
The wordfamilyhung in the air between them. Declan’s eyes met Francesca’s across the table, and something passed between them, a question, perhaps, or an acknowledgment of how thoroughly this child had woven herself into both their lives.
Declan folded his arms, feigning sternness. “I’ve a hundred things to see to, lassie.”
Her face fell.
“But,” he added, relenting at once, “the river willnae wait. Fetch yer cloak.”
“Really?” Eloise’s face lit up like sunrise. “Oh, thank you! This is going to be so much fun! Can Bluebell come too?”
“Rabbits daenae ride horses, lass.”
“But what if he gets lonely?”
“He has two kittens to keep him company now. I think he’ll survive a few hours without ye.”
Eloise squealed, darting off down the corridor.
Francesca gave him a look, half exasperation, half soft. “You do realize you’ve just lost the morning.”
“Well, at least it is going to be an interesting morning.”
The ride out was easy, the path wide and green beneath the summer sky. Fraser joined them halfway, his horse thundering up with his usual grin.
“Couldnae resist a ride,” he called, trotting alongside.
“Fraser!” Eloise shouted with excitement. “We are going to the riverbank; are you coming too?”
“I am, wee one.”
Eloise sat in front of Francesca on her mare, chattering excitedly about stones and rivers and whether fish could see above water, Fraser telling her more outlandish tales about legendary stone skippers.
“—and they say old Malcolm MacGhee once skipped a stone clear across Loch Ness. Bounced seventeen times before sinkin’.”
“Seventeen!” Eloise’s eyes went wide. “That’s impossible!”
“Nothin’s impossible in the Highlands, wee one.” Fraser winked. “Magic lives in these hills.”
“Is that true, Laird MacGhee? Is there magic here?”
Declan found himself looking at Francesca when he answered. “Some would say so, lass. Though I think the real magic is in believin’ it’s possible.”
Something flickered across Francesca’s face—surprise, maybe, or pleasure at his unusually poetic response. She’d been subdued all morning, speaking to him with careful politeness that felt like a wall between them.
Before Fraser could retort, a rider appeared from the bend in the road, waving frantically. “Captain Fraser!” the messenger called, reining in sharply, “there’s need of ye at the castle, urgent word from yer men.”
Fraser groaned. “Of course, there is. Just when the day promised to be pleasant.”
“Well, this is where I leave ye.” Fraser pulled his horse to a stop. “Enjoy yer family outin’, cousin.” He was already turning hishorse away, but not before Declan caught the knowing smirk on his face.
The three of them continued down the path in silence after Fraser’s departure. Declan was acutely aware of Francesca riding beside him, the way sunlight caught the gold in her hair, how she held Eloise with easy confidence. She looked beautiful today. She always looked beautiful, but there was something about seeing her like this, away from the castle’s formality, that made his chest tight.
The riverbank, when they reached it, was exactly as Eloise had described, smooth stones scattered along the water’s edge, perfect for skipping. She was off her horse before Francesca had fully dismounted, running toward the water with a child’s abandon.
“Careful!” Francesca called. “Stay where we can see you!”
