Page 68 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

A bleak look slowly crept into Hunter’s eyes.

For a moment, Daphne found herself overwhelmed by the depth of his misery. It only lasted for a second before he released her and took several steps back, which put him safely beyond the lanternlight’s weak reach.

“I willnae tell ye,” he said shortly. “And I daenae believe that anyone in the keep will tell ye either, nay matter how hard ye try to figure it out. Some stories should be forgotten.”

She held his gaze, waiting for the inevitable moment when he broke down and told her.

It didn’t come.

Swallowing hard, she nodded and leaned forward to snatch up the lantern in one hand and her boots in the other.

“Very well,” she said coldly. “Ye ask me to trust ye, but ye have made it very clear that ye daenae trust me. I daenae think there’s anything more we can talk about.”

She stomped past him, heading for the path that would lead back to the keep.

Hunter didn’t follow. She was sure that she would hear him hurry after her, but the crunch of shale didn’t come.

So that’s it, then. There’ll nae be a marriage.

Well, I cannae possibly be upset about that. I always kent there wouldnae be one.

Minutes ticked by, and it became very obvious that Daphne wasn’t coming down for breakfast. He should have expected that, really, but the sight of her empty chair still grated on him anyway.

When he’d returned to the keep, past the blank-faced sentry, there had been no sign of her. If the sentry had noticed them returning within minutes of each other, he was wise enough to stay quiet and pretend not to have noticed.

He had thought about going to her room. He knew where she was staying. He could have knocked on her door, seen if she would let him in.

He had decided against that almost immediately. Aside from the fact that it wasn’t fair to follow her to her door, it would wake Willow, and that would be a whole other problem.

Speaking of which, the little girl wasn’t at the breakfast table, either.

The large table remained more or less empty. At this hour, the servants were all going about their work, and the councilmen were, too.

Hunter wasn’t used to being here at this time, either. Usually, he’d be in his study.

The truth was that he was here because of Daphne. Daphne and Willow, the woman he hoped to make his wife and the girl who was his daughter.

And they were not here.

His mother and Lady Pilbury were here, of course. They sat side by side opposite him, talking and laughing about some old story of times gone by.

He cleared his throat, leaning forward. Before he could open his mouth, his mother spoke up.

“So, for the cèilidh, Hunter, we planned to send for that fiddler fellow and his wife who live up in the hills. He plays the fiddle, and she plays the bagpipes, and between them they’ll make fine music for us. He’ll want to be paid—he doesnae play for free—but I think it would be worth it. We’ll need a few musicians and a few good songs lined up. I think that would be a good idea. What do ye think?”

Hunter was about to respond before somebody else interrupted.

“Oh, what a fine idea!” Lady Pilbury chirped. “I really cannot wait to see a proper Highland cèilidh. You will have to tell me how to behave, Helena dear.”

“Behave? Woman, ye behave as ye like. This is nay fine English soirée. We’re here to have fun.”

Lady Pilbury chuckled, pulling a bowl of porridge toward herself. “Well, I think it will be a fine thing. I do hope I won’t be in the way. Do you mind if I have a little more of this porridge? It’s very fine and creamy, and I am surprised at my appetite.”

“That’s the good, clean air for ye.” Helena smiled. “The city smog cannae have done ye any good.”

“Quite, that’s why I gave up visiting London. I went there one year with Daphne, but it was quite impractical for Willow, who was of course a baby at the time. We decided not to go back. Bath is pleasant, occasionally, but it is more fashionable than it was, so the crowds…”

Hunter closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He had no objection to the women chattering about whatever they pleased, but he’d woken with a thrumming headache, and their talk was not making it better. He would have to wait for a gap in the conversation, if one came at all.