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For a long stretch, she stood still, tense and quivering, like a startled deer poised to flee.

Finally, she turned toward him, lifting her hood a few inches. A small, puzzled furrow wrinkling her forehead, she waited for him to approach and offered a tentative smile. “How fared yer trip to Eddleshaugh? Any good news?”

“Nae.” Broden shook his head, slightly distracted by her hesitancy. “Nothin’ that we didna already ken.” He eyed her basket, partially filled with apples. “What are ye doin’ with those?”

She glanced downward before lifting the forearm the hamper was slung over a couple of inches. “These are the rest of last years’ that were stored in the root cellar. Cook’s directed the removal of the old produce, so I’m takin’ them to the horses. They’ll enjoy the treat, even if they arena quite as crisp as fresh fruit.”

Reaching back into his mind, he couldn’t recall a time Kendra hadn’t adored horses.

A vision of her atop a stout, pewter-colored Shetland pony sprang to mind. Her hair in braids, she’d trotted the docile beastie around the paddock, a broad grin wreathing her round face and exposing her missing front teeth.

She couldn’t have been more than six or seven.

“Look, Broden,” she’d called, laughing in the unconstrained and exuberant way only children do. “I’m ridin’ Shadow all by myself.” She’d been so proud and confident. So excited to share her accomplishment.

Eager to join Liam and Quinn on an excursion to The Crowing Cockerel, he’d scarcely spared her an impatient half-smile and an even shorter wave. In truth, it had been the new owner of the pub’s curvaceous and very, very amiable daughter they’d been eager to ogle.

Kendra’s glowing countenance had fallen, and she’d bitten her lower lip, before flinging those long braids over her shoulders in offense and trotting the pudgy pony in the opposite direction.

As if it had been yesterday, he recalled her crestfallen expression, swiftly followed by proud indifference. How many times had he treated her so offhandedly? Disregarded her? Made her feel unimportant?

Something akin to shame sluiced through him.

He’d do better by his wards. He must. The responsibility weighed heavily upon him.

They mightn’t know him, but he was now accountable for their wellbeing, and they’d not be neglected or feel unwanted. He hadn’t worked out the details regarding precisely what that meant. Meeting them would likely help him formulate a plan.

Another incident with Kendra flared to memory.

Why now?

Perchance because he couldn’t deny he hadn’t been kind to her over the years?

She’d been fourteen or fifteen—a lonely girl with no females of her age living nearby to play or socialize with. For nearly seven years, she’d tagged after him and Liam, and he had grown heartily exasperated with her constant shadowing.

He’d spied her hiding in the hayloft, silently staring at him—her somber eyes, big silvery pools—as he and Liam saddled their horses.

Leaving her behind, once again.

When Liam had led his mount outside, Broden had craned his neck to look at her, peeping less than subtly down from her perch.

“Dinna ye have a doll to play with? Sewin’ to do? A kitten to occupy ye?” He’d scowled as he swiped his too-long hair back, then swept a hand down his horse’s withers to calm the high-spirited beast.

“I dinna like playin’ with dolls. ’Tis borin,” she snapped, highly affronted. Several pieces of straw stuck from her rich, chocolatey-brown hair, laying in wild curls and tangles about her shoulders that day.

“Well, ye need to find somethin’ fittin’ for a young lady to do and stop pesterin’ yer brother and me.” Hell, he’d been an arrogant, insensitive ass. “We’re adults, and yer a child. Ye need to leave us be.”

His chest constricted at the memory of his callous words. His heartless disregard for Kendra’s feelings. Her loneliness.

Her gorgeous eyes flashing with frustration and wounded anger, she’d jerked her mutinous chin upward. Even from where he’d stood below, he clearly saw the tears sparkling on her lashes.

“I vow the day will come, Broden McGregor, ye mean, conceited arse, when I’ll be the one tellin’ ye to leave me alone,” she said, her voice quaking as she sniffled and angrily swiped at the tears on her plump cheeks. “Just see if it disna.”

“In yer dreams, lass.” He’d laughed heartily and left the barn, not once looking back.

Now here he was, all these years later, feeling rather like a pest himself. Her very prediction had come to fruition. “May I walk with ye?”

Head tilted, she studied him. Running that too astute, inquisitive gaze that was so Kendra over him. “But werena ye headed toward the house?”