together.
Glynis sat up straight. In the Highlands, hospitality was a sacred duty. It was unthinkable to toss out any guest, let alone one who was also a close relation. One suffered with them as long as one had to.
“I apologize,” Glynis said, feeling her face go hot. “I did not realize I would be imposing.”
“All we want is for ye to be happy, but for that, a woman needs a husband,” her aunt said, giving her a sweet smile. “And the wealthier he is, the happier you’ll be.”
“Are ye expecting this wealthy husband to help support Father Thomas’s ambitions?” Glynis asked.
“That would be an added blessing, of course.” Her aunt patted her hand. “We don’t want to go to the moneylenders again.”
* * *
The bright sun hurt Claire’s eyes, but it felt good on her face. She could not remember the last time she had been outside. She was high above the people on the street, sitting on the shoulders of the man with the laughing eyes.
The man spoke to her in words that were familiar, and sometimes she tried to understand what he was saying. But she had grown accustomed to listening for other things in voices. She knew from the rise in the old woman’s voice when she was going to slap her.
But the man’s big, deep voice made her happy.
* * *
Alex carried the child on his shoulders to keep people from stepping on the wee thing.
“Ye see that water in the distance?” he asked, turning around and pointing. “That’s the Firth, where the boat ye came on sailed into Edinburgh. Did ye like sailing?”
When he looked up her, she nodded. Since the child needed to learn Gaelic, he said everything to her first in French and then in Gaelic.
“We are going to say good-bye to a friend of mine before we leave,” he said, starting up the hill again. “It won’t take long.”
As anxious as he was to leave the city, he needed to see that Glynis was happily settled with her aunt. At least that was what he was telling himself.
When they reached the house, he set Sorcha on her feet. It seemed much longer than a day since he had stood before this red door with Glynis. At his knock, the same maid as yesterday answered it.
“I’ve come to speak to Mistress Glyn—”
He stopped when he saw Glynis descending the stair, looking as fresh as a spring breeze in a pale green gown. The only sign of surprise she showed at seeing him with a wee girl holding his hand was a slight widening of her eyes.
“Glynis, this is my daughter.”
Alex waited for her to call him a philanderer, a sinner, or worse.
“I can see that she is,” Glynis said with a light in her eyes. She leaned down with a warm smile and touched Sorcha’s shoulder. “What’s your name, child?”
“She doesn’t speak,” he said.
“She has no Gaelic?” Glynis asked, looking up at him.
“Her mother was French, so she has no Gaelic,” he said. “But what I meant is that she has not yet said a word of any kind.”
“Where is her mother?” Glynis asked in a soft voice.
“On her way back to France.”
Glynis met his gaze, and he was grateful she asked for no further explanation.
“I thought perhaps your family here might know of a good woman I could hire to look after my daughter on the journey home,” he said. “I haven’t the slightest notion how to take care of a bairn—especially a lass.”
“I could do it,” Glynis said in a rush.
Alex stared at her, wondering if he had heard her correctly.
“I have three younger sisters, so I know how,” she said, her voice unnaturally high. “And ye wouldn’t have to pay me.”
It was one shock too many before breakfast. “What are ye saying? Have pity on a hungry man and speak plainly.”
“I feel foolish after all the trouble I put ye to bringing me all the way here to Edinburgh,” she said.
“I enjoyed it quite thoroughly,” he said, causing her to blush. “But ye just arrived. Why would ye be wanting to go back so soon?”
“I didn’t know what it would be like here, with all the people and the noise and so far from the sea,” she said, worrying the skirt of her gown in her hands. “And my mother’s family is dead set on wedding me to a merchant.”
“To a merchant? Are they mad?”
