“The child’s become quite attached.”
“She had a nightmare last night. A bad one.” Declan stood, leading the way to the battlements. “She’s been clingy ever since.”
The Highland wind whipped around them as they stepped outside. Fraser leaned against the stone parapet, studying his cousin’s face.
“Ye’ve changed.”
“Aye.”
“It’s a good change, cousin. The best I’ve seen in ye since… well, since before yer mother died.”
Declan stared out over MacGhee lands, at the rolling hills and distant mountains. “I didnae realize how much I’d closed meself off until they came along. How much I was just existin’ rather than livin’.”
“And now?”
“Now I wake up eager to see what the day brings.” He turned to face Fraser. “I look forward to meals. I find meself smilin’ over the smallest things. A child’s laughter. The way me wife looks at me when she thinks I’m nae noticin’.” He paused. “I’m happy, Fraser. Truly happy.”
“I can see that.” Fraser clapped him on the shoulder. “Yer father would be proud.”
“Would he?” The words came out more bitter than intended. “He loved me mother so much, it destroyed him when she died. I always thought that was weakness.”
“It wasnae the lovin’ that destroyed him. It was nae kenin’ how to go on after she died.” Fraser’s expression grew serious. “But ye’re nae yer father. Ye have strength he lacked. And ye have people who need ye—nae just the clan, but yer family. That wee lass who follows ye around? That woman who looks at ye like ye hung the moon? They’ve given ye somethin’ to fight for beyond duty.”
“They have.” Declan’s hand tightened on the stone. “I’d burn the world down to keep them safe.”
“I ken ye would. That’s what makes ye a good laird and a good father.”
The word settled over him. Father. Not in title alone but in truth.
“Aye?” Declan asked.
“I’ve always been wise. Ye were just too stubborn to listen.” Fraser grinned. “Now come on. I’m sure yer daughter is wonderin’ where ye’ve gone.”
“Can Da see?” Eloise looked up from her slate, hope shining in her eyes.
Declan had found them in the solar—Francesca sitting beside Eloise at the small table, both bent over the child’s lessons. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, catching in Francesca’s hair.
“Of course, he can see.” Francesca beckoned him closer. “Come look at what she’s accomplished.”
He examined the slate, genuinely impressed by the neat rows of letters. “Well done, lass. Yer letters are almost as good as yer mother’s.”
Eloise beamed under his praise then set down her chalk. “Will ye teach me somethin’ too? Somethin’ that lairds need to know?”
Declan exchanged a glance with Francesca, who nodded encouragingly.
“Aye, I suppose I could teach ye to recognize clan tartans.” He settled beside her. “That’s important for any MacGhee to ken. Every clan has its own pattern, ye see. The colors and lines tell ye who they are.”
He pulled out the samples kept in the solar’s storage chest, spreading them across the table. Eloise leaned forward, fascinated.
“This one,” he pointed to a pattern of red and green, “is MacGhee tartan. Our colors. Can ye see the way the red crosses the green here?”
“Aye! And there’s a wee bit of blue too.”
“Good eye. That blue line represents the rivers that run through our lands.” He moved to another sample. “Now this is MacLeod tartan. They’re allies, so ye need to recognize it.”
“The yellow is pretty.”
“Aye, but pretty doesnae always mean friendly. This one—” he held up a different pattern, “—is Campbell tartan. We trade with them but keep our guard up.”
