Page 30 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

The man hadn’t set foot in the carriage once during their journey, not even when the rain came down hard. From the glimpses she’d seen, Daphne could guess that he was ahead of them, leading the way.

Sure enough, ragged cheers and cries rose from the road ahead. People walking past them downwards had bright, happy smiles on their faces. They eyed the covered carriage with optimistic interest and mild confusion. Some waved.

“They love him,” Daphne murmured, half to herself.

“Oh, aye,” Helena answered softly. “He’s beloved by the people, sure enough. They ken he’s dedicated to them.”

Was it her imagination, or was there an edge to the older woman’s voice?

Daphne sat back, glancing at her. She was about to ask a question when Willow shifted, sitting up and rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Mama?” she mumbled drowsily. “Are we there yet?”

“Very nearly. Come sit on me lap and look out the window.”

Willow nodded and came crawling across the carriage. She settled herself on Daphne’s lap, wrapped her arms around her shoulders, and rested her head on her chest.

Daphne wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her eyes shut.

I shouldnae have shouted at her.

She could still see the moment in her mind’s eye. It would probably haunt her dreams and remain etched behind her eyelids. She could see the terror and dismay on Willow’s face as she bent down, shouting at her, livid and furious.

It wasn’t that Willow hadn’t been shouted at before. The cook had once bellowed loud enough to shake the house’s foundations when baby Willow had toddled too close to a pan of water boiling on the stove.

Daphne had once screamed high and loud when she saw Willow leaning out of a second-story window after inching up the glass pane. Even Lady Pilbury had cried out at her once, when Willow had picked up the cat’s tail in babyish confusion and was preparing to pull, thinking it a toy.

A few pointed scratches and instructive bites had taught her to be gentle with the cat, more than Lady Pilbury’s stammered instructions and yelps.

This time was different, though.

This time, I scared her.

Daphne pressed a kiss to the top of Willow’s head.

I’ll be better. I have to be. I must be a good mother.

“Is that where we’re going?” Willow yawned. “That ugly gray building?”

“It’s only the outside that’s ugly. Ye are looking at the keep walls; they surround it all. The real castle is inside. The walls are designed to keep us safe. Enemies cannae get inside.”

“Enemies?”

The Wolf, Daphne thought, but didn’t say it. Laird Gilmore, coming to get his revenge for how I humiliated him.

She’d received letters from her family, of course, but they were few and far between. She suspected that the post between their little village and the Highlands was unreliable, to say the least, as some of the letters she’d received seemed totally disjointed, ignoring questions she’d asked in her previous letters altogether. So, communication between her and her family had been poor.

I could see them now that I’m here.

Do they want to see me?

Best not to answer that question. Not yet, at least.

The terrain beneath the carriage wheels changed to smooth cobblestones. A courtyard, then.

Abruptly, they passed beneath a thick doorway, the walls wider than the carriage itself. Guards nodded them through, trying surreptitiously to peer through the windows. One of them at least made eye contact with Daphne, his eyes widening in shock.

And then they were through.