Page 20 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

So, that meant the women would all travel inside Hunter’s heavy, ugly carriage, which was fairly comfortable inside with its cushions and rugs, and he would ride alongside.

Riding all the way from England to the Highlands wasn’t going to be pleasant, but needs must.

Lady Pilbury’s staff trundled to and from the carriage, bringing boxes and bags, and one colossal trunk that he had to help haul up onto the top of the carriage, lashing it down as tightly as possible.

Finally, the old woman herself appeared in the doorway. The poor thing was almost invisible under layers of blankets and shawls. She leaned heavily on a stick, but twin bright spots were burning in her cheeks, and excitement danced in her eyes.

Helena escorted her, the two of them leaning toward each other and whispering excitedly. Smithy and half a dozen other servants crowded around the doorway. A brawny woman whom Hunter just knew was Cook dabbed her eyes with the corner of her apron.

“We shall keep the house ready for you, my Lady,” Smithy promised, his voice tight. “For when you return.”

Hunter bit the inside of his cheek. It seemed likely that the old woman wouldn’t return.

Helena placed a hand on his forearm as she passed by. “Thank ye,” she whispered.

He felt a twinge of guilt. He would have to tell her about Daphne, of course, and about Willow.

Not yet, though. Not yet.

As always, his eyes slipped back to the door, waiting. He hadn’t seen Daphne since they parted ways earlier.

What if she changes her mind? What if she decides to stay? I cannae force her to come with me.

His chest tightened at the thought, which shocked him a little.

I havenae seen her in five years. I shouldnae feel so strongly. What even is this feeling? Tension, apprehension, and… what? Guilt?

No, it wasn’t guilt. He didn’t feel guilty at all, only about letting Daphne and Willow live alone for so long.

And that really wasn’t his fault. If he’d known…

Enough of this. I didnae ken. There’s no changing it.

A shadow crossed the threshold before stepping out into the daylight.

Daphne blinked in the sunshine, eyeing the sky hesitantly. She carried a medium-sized carpetbag and not much else. Willow tugged impatiently on her hand, her gaze fixed on the carriage.

Daphne met Hunter’s gaze, and something passed between them. A moment of understanding, maybe? Hope? Or something else altogether?

She averted her gaze, and the moment vanished.

Willow tugged again, and Daphne let go of her.

The little girl came cannoning across the courtyard toward the carriage. Lady Pilbury had just managed to clamber in, and Helena was maneuvering herself to climb in after her.

Skidding to a halt, Willow eyed the carriage, taking in the plush cushions piled inside, along with the thick furs and heavy blankets. Then, quite slowly and deliberately, she glanced up at Hunter.

“It is too hot for all those blankets,” she remarked.

He leaned against the side of the carriage. “For ye and yer ma, maybe. But me mother and Lady Pilbury are old, and thin, and tend to get cold. Besides, it’ll be a lot colder up in the Highlands than here.”

She digested that for a moment, then glanced back at the house. Daphne stayed by the front door, talking earnestly with Smithy and Cook.

“We didnae bring all of our clothes,” Willow stated. “Ma said we would be coming back. Should we have packed more things?”

“Nay.”

“Why nae?”