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In response, Tor jumped from his mount and approached her, bowing deeply. “It is an honor to make yer acquaintance, Lady . . .”
“Annie,” the girl replied. “She is my aunt.” Annie pointed to Ainsley. “Who are you?”
Ainsley caught Tor’s eyes before he answered. Best not to confuse the poor girl. Ainsley shook her head.
“I am a friend of yer aunt Ainsley’s,” he said. “And with yer permission, we are going on an adventure. Do I have yer permission to take her on an adventure, my lady?”
Annie, of course, adored him. This was Tor MacRob, the laird’s handsome second, skilled with the sword and even more so with the ladies. Not Tor MacRob, the man who could not wait to get to Berwick to have their marriage annulled.
“Aye,” Annie said, looking at Ainsley. She would have to speak to him about making promises he could not fulfill, as they’d be going to Berwick with or without her niece’s approval.
“Where shall I tell yer sister ye’re, uh, adventuring?” Forsy asked.
“Berwick,” she answered. “’Tis a long story and my . . . Tor would have us get to Barnum by nightfall. If ye’d tell Rhona to speak to Greer, she will explain.” Before Forsy could say more, she added, “I bid Greer to come down here on the morrow.”
Her sister would not go to the keep, and Ainsley knew it well.
“Very good, my lady. She will be sorry she missed ye.”
“And I her.” Ainsley waved Annie to her once again. She took her niece’s hands in hers. “I will miss ye, wee one. But I shall come here first when I return from my adventure. Aye?”
“Aye, Aunt Ainsley. Will you keep him?”
It took her a moment to understand. When Tor laughed, Ainsley could not resist a small smile, which she did not let him see.
“My lord is no’ a horse, Annie. He does as he pleases, as men are wont to do. I could no sooner ‘keep’ him as ye could that butterfly. Do ye remember? We discussed why ’twas necessary to let it go?”
Annie nodded. “I do. But you said, Aunt Ainsley, that it may come back to visit. Mayhap he will come back too when yer adventure is over?”
She hoped not, but Ainsley did not voice such a thought. “Mayhap he will.” Ainsley kissed her niece’s cheek. “Tell yer mama I love her, as I love ye. I shall see ye soon.”
Annie squeezed her. If Ainsley ever wanted a husband, which she most assuredly did not after what had happened to her sister, it was now. In her niece’s arms. The hugs she gave her, the ones that were so tight Ainsley could hardly breathe but did not care . . . they were everything to her. She loved this girl so fiercely that, sometimes, Ainsley wished desperately to be a mother too. But she had Annie, and ’twas enough for now.
“Farewell,” she said, mounting once again and expecting Tor to do the same. Instead, he moved to Annie, knelt, whispered something into her ear that made her smile, and then stood once again with a small bow to Forsy. She watched him mount, but when Ainsley caught his eye, Tor gave no indication that he intended to share what he said to her niece.
After Forsy waved and took Annie’s hand, leading her back into the cottage, Ainsley rode up to him, curious. “What did ye say to her? My niece’s smile could not have been any bigger.”
“Sorry, lass. Cannae tell ye.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Ye’re as they say, husband.”
They began to ride. “And what, pray tell, do they say?”
“That ye’re the charming brother. Quick with a smile and skilled with a sword. That all women love the MacRob second.”
“’Tis my brother they talk about.”
His tone had completely changed. Although Tor still smiled, this was a completely different sort of smile. One that did not reach his eyes. It was practiced, and fooled her not at all.
“Aye, they do say he has a love of swordplay like none other.”
“I dinnae speak of Royce,” Tor said.
Ainsley immediately understood. All knew of the MacRob who had fallen during battle. For once their own clan had not been involved, and though Ainsley knew few of the details, the loss of Adair MacRob had been, according to Catlin, devastating.
He’d been the clan’s second. An overly large man who intimidated all who came into his path. Like the laird of MacRob, but even more reticent, making him somewhat of an enigma.
“I am sorry for yer loss.”
