The Highlander's Tempestuous Bride (27 page)

“Of whom,
monsieur
?”

Slowly, Ferlie shook his head. “I dinnae know, lass. I dinnae know.”

Chapter 25

Gilda laughed as William gurgled and churned his chubby legs. “I think he smiled at ye.”

Conn shot her a questioning look full of surprised pleasure before turning back to the bairn. “I believe he did.”

Tavia bustled about the room, straightening cloths on the wash stand, fluffing pillows on the bed. “Och, the bairn isnae old enough to smile at ye, lad. ’Tis likely a wee stomach ailment passing or a faerie wind tickling his bum.”

Conn roared with laughter. “I prefer to believe the lad is happy to meet me at long last.” He lifted an eyebrow at the old woman in a mock scowl. “Ye have been telling him about me, aye?”

Tilting her nose in the air, Tavia scoffed. “Any stories told him about ye are likely to be tainted with the truth of yer
paukie
ways.”

Conn clasped his heart in a dramatic gesture. “Did ye hear yon
cailleach
call me roguish and wily?”

Tavia snorted, forestalling Gilda’s answer. “Obviously this
auld woman
knows what she is talking about!”

William’s arms and legs flailed and his face puckered, capturing everyone’s attention with a cry. Gilda settled his blanket about him as she lifted him into her arms. His face turned eagerly against her bosom and she felt her cheeks heat.

Tavia tugged at Conn’s arm and steered him to the door. “Yon bairn needs his ma now. Ye can visit with her anon.” With a light shove, she pushed the young man through the doorway and closed the portal between them. She wiped her hands on her apron and turned to Gilda.

“Now, lass, ye can feed young William before the fisher fleet on the coast hear him.”

With a dexterity born of a sennight’s practice, Gilda unlaced her gown with one hand, jostling an increasingly distressed bairn in the other. Cradling him gently, she nestled him against her. With a snuffle and a sigh, William began to suckle.

Tavia gave a grunt of satisfaction. “Ye are a good ma to the wee lad, Gilda.”

Warm reassurance rose in Gilda, but Tavia’s next words caught her off guard.

“What do ye want with young MacLaurey?”

* * *

The room throbbed with the heat of a thousand candles and more than a score of overdressed bodies. Chattering voices rose to a crescendo above the merry clash of musicians, and Ferlie winced.

Murielle tapped his arm.

“
Regardez!
Mon frère,
Bray, has arrived!”

Ferlie followed the line of her arm pointing to a tall young man entering the room. She bounced excitedly on her toes, instantly transformed from flirtatious young woman to the red-haired lass who’d befriended him a week ago. He smiled, agreeable to the change.

“Yer brother made it back from the horse trader’s, then?”

“Not just any horse trader. The man raises fine Iberian horses.
Mon père
sent him over a month ago to choose and collect several mares.”

“’Tis why he wasnae with ye on the ship,” Ferlie murmured, though he knew the story well by now. “So, the impatient stallion in yer stable is to receive his mates?”

“Don’t be
impertinente
, Ferlie.” Murielle’s soft chiding was distant, her attention clearly on her brother. “
Suivez-moi
! Let me introduce you.”

Ferlie allowed himself to be led across the room. With a nod to well-wishers and a clout to the shoulders of the more boisterous among them, he followed the gentle sway of Murielle’s skirts as she wove her way through the guests to her brother’s side.

The slender Frenchman swept to attention as Ferlie and Murielle approached.

“
Voilà ma petite sœur
! As pretty as ever.” Catching her hands, he dangled her before him. “
Juste ciel
! How you have grown,
ma petite
! I can scarce believe the beauty you have become.”

Deep color suffused Murielle’s cheeks as she laughed and fluttered her lashes at the brotherly flattery. She edged closer and kissed his cheeks. Grasping his upper arm, she turned him to face Ferlie.

“
Mon frère
, I would like to introduce you to Ferlie. Ferlie, this is my brother, Bray Rousseau.”

Keen brown eyes swept over him, and Ferlie felt a twinge of recognition. A jovial manner hiding a canny awareness… But the vision was gone in an instant, leaving an unexpected emptiness inside, as though he’d lost more than his place in the conversation.

“
C’est un véritable héros! Mon ami
, you have my deepest gratitude for bringing my family home safe and sound.”

Bray’s eyes narrowed slightly, questioning, and Ferlie felt heat rise in his cheeks. What had he missed?

Hurriedly, he replied, “Och, ’twas my good fortune yer da decided to take my word I would fight on his side.”

“’Tis an amazing stroke of luck, indeed, for I have rarely known
mon père
to make a hasty decision.”

Laughter erupted around them and the tension coiled inside Ferlie began to ease. “’Tis good to meet ye,
Monsieur
.” He accepted Bray’s outstretched hand and they clasped the other’s upper arm—like brothers. Again, a flash of vision swept through Ferlie, a feeling of brotherhood so strong he struggled to contain the gasp of surprise.

“
S’il vous plaît Monsieur
, my name is Bray.”

Ferlie grinned. “I am called simply, Ferlie. ’Tis Scottish for ‘luck,’ and I am verra lucky to be alive.”

“
Voilà mon héros
!” Captain Rousseau breasted the crowd like a cog ship in heavy water. His beaming gaze encompassed Ferlie and Bray. “And you have met
mon fils
. Bray, how was your trip? Was it successful?”

“
Oui, Monsieur
. I have four of the loveliest mares one could ask for in the stable as we speak.”

“It is more important they are just what the stallion asks for,
c’est ça
?”

“Mayhap you would care to see them after dinner?”

Captain Rousseau swept a hand toward Ferlie. “The two of you should inspect them. Scotsmen are known to have an eye for horseflesh. Though I doubt such as these has been seen in the Highlands.” He ducked his head. “No offense, Ferlie, but these are not as your Highland ponies.”

“No offense taken,
Monsieur.
I would very much like to see them.”

“Then it is settled. Ah!
Suivez-moi
! It appears dinner is served.”

The crowd turned to follow their host to the tables where gleaming white tablecloths boasted platters of food and flagons of drink, and each seat offered the diner his own bejeweled knife. Ferlie took a deep breath.
An hour past. I can surely make it through a couple more
.

* * *

Gilda’s startled glance as she responded to Tavia’s direct question betrayed her. Her concern with Conn MacLaurey was new even to herself, and she could not stop the heat stealing beneath her skin. She fussed with William’s wrapping, murmuring soft, encouraging noises to the suckling babe as she struggled to make sense of her thoughts.

“He is verra interested in Ryan’s son.” Her words were weak and unconvincing—the first thing she could voice.

“Och, the lad has eyes for his friend’s babe, and bigger eyes for ye, lass.”

“Aye. I know.”

“He has been here often. What has he said? Has he promised ye anything?”

Gilda drew a deep breath. William’s soft scent enveloped her, tightening her insides with love and regret. “’Tis true he has a fondness for William because he is Ryan’s son. The bairn helps keep Ryan’s memory alive, and that is a bond between the two of us as well.”

The old woman waggled her head sagely. “Aye. But I am nae so old I cannae see he has eyes for more than Ryan’s memory.”

Conn’s words, so startling only a fortnight ago, mellowed in Gilda’s heart. “Auntie, Conn has asked me to marry him.”

With a sigh, Tavia sank to the foot of the bed. “Have ye said aught to yer parents? They are neither blind nor daft.”

“Nae. I told him I dinnae want to marry him.”

Tavia sent her a piercing look. “’Tis not what it looked like a moment ago.”

“Weel, mayhap I had a change of heart.”

“Do ye love him, lass?”

Gilda pulled the protesting babe from one breast and presented him with the other. Crooning softly to mollify him, she pondered Tavia’s question. Did she love Conn? What had changed in such a short amount of time?

“I cannae say, Tavia. I certainly dinnae love him as I did Ryan.” Her voice caught and she bit her lip to control its tremor. “My feelings for Conn are verra different. Seeing him with William, the look on his face—I know he would love him like his own bairn.”

Gilda lifted her chin and stared in challenge at the old woman. “I know it isnae easy to get a man to take another’s child.”

Tavia rose to her feet, hands on her thighs to assist the move as her joints creaked audibly. She shuffled to Gilda’s side and draped her hands across her shoulders, hugging her tight against her bony chest.

“Och, lass, dinnae judge every man by Laird Macraig’s standard. He cannae see what a beautiful child he lost that day. Only the woman who would have brought his clan much wealth and land and prestige. Young MacLaurey seems a much different sort.”

Gilda patted Tavia’s hand. “I know, Tavia. That is what draws me to him. I believe William and I could have a good life with him.”

“Weel, ye dinnae have to make a decision today. Ye need to talk to yer ma and yer da before ye say aught to young MacLaurey. They are well aware of his visits and likely wish for ye to bring up the subject.”

“I would like to get to know Conn a bit better.” She gazed down at her son, his mouth now lax on her breast as he drifted off to sleep. “I will talk to Ma and Da soon.”

* * *

Finn clung to Conn’s arm as he balanced his feet on the rungs of his chair, peering at William as the babe opened and closed his tiny hands.

“He’s not much fun yet, Conn,” the lad confided. “But me and Jamie will teach him a thing or two when he gets older.”

Conn laughed at the firm assurance in the boy’s face. “I am sure ye will, Finn. Are ye a help to yer sister with young William right now?”

Jamie and Finn exchanged looks and Finn stepped down, away from Conn’s close scrutiny. “We have been verra good to stay out of her way,” he declared.

Jamie bobbed his head. “Aye. We dinnae get into trouble anymore.” His cheeks reddened. “Much.”

“What is there to help with?” Finn frowned as he considered the bairn. “All he does is eat and sleep.”

“And poo!” Jamie snickered behind his hands.

Finn looked abashed. “I dinnae want
that
job!” Both lads scrunched their noses and Conn bit back his laughter. He cast a sideways glance to Gilda who watched the exchange, amusement in her eyes.

“Have ye brought yer sister flowers? Watched young William sleep so she can do other things? Ye know the bairn keeps her verra busy.”

The twins dipped their heads in unison. “Aye. She doesnae have time to go to the beach with us anymore.”

“Or pick berries.”

Finn rolled his eyes at his brother. “
Amadan
. The berries willnae be ripe for another month.”

Jamie shoved Finn. “They will, too!”

Finn pushed Jamie with a shout. “Willnae!”

“Lads!” Their da’s admonition brought instant, albeit reluctant, obedience. Heads down, they shuffled their feet on the stone floor, slanting promising looks at each other that the argument was far from over.

Conn studied William, still studying his fingers with puzzled intent. “They dinnae bother him?”

Gilda rose and moved to his side, leaning over his shoulder. “Nae. He is already used to their antics.”

At the sound of his ma’s voice, William grinned and pumped his arms and legs.

“’Tis near his bedtime. I will take him up.”

“I would like to put him to bed, if ye dinnae mind?”

Gilda smiled. “Can ye sing?”

“I can hum a bit off-key.”

“Perfect. Walk slowly and croon. He will likely be asleep afore ye reach the cradle.”

Conn rather doubted the bairn would be asleep that quickly, but he did as she prompted him. A lullaby? He wasn’t sure he knew any songs that didn’t start off,
There was a young lass who…
Hardly appropriate.

A grin touched his lips and he began to hum. “Bee baw babbity, babbity, babbity. Bee baw babbity, a lassie or a wee laddie?”

Gilda laughed softly. “A little nonsense song for young William?”

“I dinnae suppose ye wanted me singing him a song I picked up at a pub.”

“Och, nae as a bairn. We will save those for when he is grown, aye?”

They made their way up the staircase in unison and he heard Gilda’s voice, soft and sweet.

“
Baloo baleerie, baloo baleerie.

Baloo baleerie, baloo balee.

Gang awa’ peerie faeries, gang awa’ peerie faeries.

Gang awa’ peerie faeries, from our home now.

Doon come the bonny angels, doon come the bonny angels.

Doon come the bonny angels, to our home now.

Sleep soft, my baby, sleep soft, my baby.

Sleep soft, my baby, in our home now.”

Conn laid William, already asleep, in his crib, tucking a loosened piece of silver birch trim out of his reach. The bark kept away faeries and goblins, and he did not want harm to come to the babe.

Gilda nodded in approval. “Ye handle him well, Conn. Ye might think ye had raised a bairn or two.”

“None I could lay claim to as my own.” He gently pulled the soft wool blanket over William’s chest. Taking Gilda’s hand, he led her to the seat at the window.

“Ye know how much I love the lad. I cannae believe how much he resembles his da.” He shook his head ruefully. “’Tis likely ye will have yer hands full with this one.”

Gilda leaned against the stone at her back, happiness tugging the corners of her lips. “He already is a demanding lad.” Her face softened and she stared at a point beyond his shoulder. “But when he isnae demanding to be fed or changed, or is tired, he is so sweet.”