Page 89 of Ghost of the Ton

“Will ye ask him tonight?”

“I-I’ll need to find the right time, Billy, lad. Dinnae ye go saying anything until I’ve spoken to him. Ye know how he—” She broke off, blushing.

“Ask him in your own time,” Mia said. “Perhaps Hamish might help persuade him? After all, he’s the laird.”

Hamish opened his mouth to say that a laird ought not to interfere in how a husband ruled his home—and Murdoch, more than others, wouldn’t appreciate being told how to manage his wife. Then he closed it as he caught the plea in Mia’s eyes.

“I’ll see if I can speak to him,” he said. “That is, if ye’re determined to go ahead with the vaccine?”

She set her mouth in the determined little line that always threatened to undo his resolve, then nodded.

“Ye’re a kind woman,” Evie said. “I’m so glad ye’re here with us at Glenblath.”

“As am I,” Hamish said, before he could stop himself.

Mia glanced at him, and her lips parted as she drew in a sharp breath. Evie glanced from Hamish to Mia and back again. Then she patted Billy’s hand.

“Come along, lad. I’ve a hundred things to do before I set to making yer da’s supper, and standing about here won’t get them done, will it?”

“I ought to be going also,” Mia said with a grin. “I’ve nettles to pick.”

Evie let out another laugh and led her son out of the classroom. After bidding farewell to the teacher, Mia followed, her basket over her arm, Hamish in her wake. As they stepped outside, he reached for her basket.

“Let me.”

“It’s not necessary,” she said. “I carried it here, so I can carry it back.”

“Och, I know that, lass, but will ye indulge me and let me do something for ye, to make up for being such an arse last night?”

“I rather think I was the”—she paused—“the arse last night.”

He suppressed a smile at the way her tongue curled over the profanity. “Then yer penance shall be to let me carry yer basket.”

Smiling, she handed it over.

“I ought not to have blamed you for smashing my things when I know you could never have done it,” she said. “It was uncivil of me to turn you away when you offered help. Thank you for sending my friends over this morning. I didn’t deserve such kindness.”

“Ye do,” he said. “There’s much to admire in ye—and Mrs. MacLennan’s right about the way ye handled that young Billy.”

She gestured to the retreating backs of Evie and her son, who clung to his mother’s hand.

“He’s not a bad boy at heart, though he’s done bad things,” she said. “It’s obvious that he’s learned many of his ways from his father. But I believe that his love for his mother will be his salvation.”

“Aye,” Hamish said. “The true test of a man’s goodness is how he treats his ma. And”—he turned his gaze to her, his heart flickering at the expression in her hazel eyes—“and how he treats his wife.”

He offered his free arm. “Now,” he said, summoning the mettle to voice his wish despite the fear of rejection, “I’d like to escort ye back to Riverview.”

“But it’s out of your way.”

“That matters not,” he said. “What matters is that here, and now, ye’re my wife, and I’m glad of it. I wish to escort my wife home.”

She blinked, the color of her eyes deepening, and the flicker of rejection in them threatened to cleave his heart in too.

“Please dinnae deny me, Mia,” he whispered, his voice catching.

After a pause, she nodded.

“Very well, husband,” she whispered. “You may escort me home.”