Page 74 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

She laced her fingers together and dropped her chin, nodding. “All right, son.”

“Thank ye.”

He stepped around her and strode off down the hallway.

Daphne should be gone by now. He suspected she would spend the next few days avoiding him.

Unfortunately, the keep was large enough for her to manage that easily.

CHAPTER 17

TWO DAYS LATER

“Come on, Magnus, give us a real challenge,” Hunter taunted, twirling his sword.

Magnus grunted, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Daenae get too comfortable, me Laird. I’m just getting started.”

“Are ye sure? Because from where I’m standing, we’ve been sparring for five minutes, and ye have yet to make a single move that I struggled to parry. I might die of old age before ye start.”

Magnus snorted. “Trying to provoke me, me Laird?”

“Trying and succeeding, it looks like.”

At once, Magnus flung himself across the space, his sword swinging, glinting in the sunlight.

The assembled men, who’d been watching Hunter and Magnus spar in stunned silence, let out ragged gasps.

Hunter neatly sidestepped the blow, swinging his own sword in a low arc that would have severed Magnus’s Achilles tendon if they’d been fighting in earnest.

As it was, Magnus jumped back, dodging the blow, and the men around them sighed in relief.

“Should we stop before we give one of them apoplexy?” Magnus murmured, rolling his eyes toward the spectators.

Grinning, Hunter was about to make a comment, but he was cut off by the rumble of cart wheels. Lowering his sword, he twisted around to peer at the gate.

“I didnae ken the carriage had been taken out,” he remarked.

“Oh, aye, Lady Helena ordered it. She and her English friends went out to a local market this morning.”

Hunter ran his tongue over his teeth. “She should have told me first. And only Lady Pilbury is English. Daphne and Willow are Scottish, same as us.”

Magnus shrugged, losing interest. He turned away, speaking to one of the soldiers.

Hunter remained where he was, watching the carriage roll to a halt.

His mother was the first to clamber out, chattering nonstop to the people still inside. Lady Pilbury alighted after her, swathed in shawls and scarves. Willow was handed down next, hitting the ground running and chattering excitedly. A small furry face poked out of the shawl around her neck, hinting that River had gone with them on the outing.

Last but certainly not least, Daphne elegantly stepped down onto the paved courtyard. Her hair was wound into an untidy braid that hung down her back. He was pretty sure that was a Scottish style, as all the Englishwomen he’d seen wore their hair demurely piled up on top of their heads.

He somehow knew that she’d lift her eyes and look at him. Sure enough, her gaze shot across the courtyard and landed on him. Her expression didn’t change, except for her lips pressing together.

“Mama, Mama, come inside, let’s look at what we bought today!” Willow cried, tugging on her hand.

Daphne dropped her gaze. Forcing a smile, she followed her daughter and the others into the castle and out of sight.

Hunter felt his throat tighten, and he struggled to swallow.

“What’s all that about, me Laird?” Magnus’s voice sounded at his elbow.