Page 48 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

The garden beyond was unexpected.

Elinor had seen gardens before, her father's estate had once had them, though they'd long since gone to seed. Overgrown tangles of weeds where flowers should have been. Crumbling stone paths. Fountains that no longer worked.

This was nothing like that.

Even in late autumn, even with winter approaching, these gardens were beautiful. The paths were clear and well-maintained. The flower beds, though mostly empty at that time of year, were neatly edged and obviously cared for. And in the center, a small fountain still trickled, the sound of water peaceful in the evening quiet.

"It's lovely," she said softly.

David's expression was unreadable in the fading light. "Me maither's project. She loved gardens. Spent hours out here, plantin' and weedin' and designin' new sections." His voice was distant, remembering. "When I was a lad, I used tae help her. Well, 'help' is generous. Mostly I just followed her around and got in the way."

Elinor felt her chest tighten. "She sounds wonderful."

"She was." He was quiet for a moment. "When I became laird, the gardens had gone tae ruin. Me uncle had nay interest in maintainin' them. So one of the first things I did was have them restored. Brought in gardeners who kent what they were daein'. Made sure they were cared fer properly."

"That's… " Elinor struggled for words. "That's a beautiful way tae honor your mother’s memory."

David's jaw tightened. "It's only a garden."

But it wasn't. Elinor could hear it in his voice. See it in the way his eyes tracked over the carefully maintained paths, the way his hand brushed against a stone bench they passed.

This garden was more than plants and water features. It was a connection to someone he'd lost. A way of keeping her alive, even after she was gone.

"What happened to her?" Elinor asked gently.

David's entire body went rigid. "That's nae a topic fer discussion."

"I apologize. I didn't mean to pry. I only wanted to ken⁠— "

"I said it's nae a topic fer discussion." His voice was cold now. Final. The tone of a laird giving an order, not a husband talking to his wife.

Elinor bit her lip, recognizing the dismissal for what it was. Whatever had happened to David's mother, it was clearly a wound that hadn't healed. One he wasn't ready to share.

She changed tactics. "My father never let me have hobbies."

David glanced at her, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "What?"

"Hobbies. Interests. Things that were just mine." She ran her hand along the edge of the fountain as they passed. "He said they were frivolous. That a lady's only concern should be making herself marriageable and managing a household. Anything else was a waste of time."

"That's… " David stopped himself, but she could see the anger flickering across his face. "That's a poor way tae raise a daughter."

Then he paused.

"Ye ken ye could try any trade appropriate fer yer station. As lady of the castle, ye can spend yer time as ye wish."

"Do you mean it?"

"I dinnae say things I dinnae mean, lass."

"Then… " She hesitated, suddenly uncertain. "Could I really? Try different things? See what I enjoy?"

David stopped walking, turning to face her fully. His expression was serious, but not unkind.

"Ye're Lady of Keppoch now. Ye've responsibilities, aye—managin' the household, organizin' the Cèilidh, representin' the clan when needed. But beyond that?" He shrugged. "Yer time is yer own. If ye want tae learn healin', work with Cook in the kitchens, try yer hand at weavin' or paintin' or whatever else interests ye—ye've me blessing."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." His mouth quirked slightly. "Though I'd ask ye tae avoid anythin' that involves sharp objects until I ken ye're nae likely tae stab me with them."