A grimace on her face, Mary reached beneath the table to grasp her own miniature toes. “Did the shoe fit the little sister?”
“It fit perfectly, and she’d no need to cut her toes, either.” He grinned at Mary’s giggle. “When the prince saw that it fit, he took the older sister off his horse and put the younger one there instead. And they rode to his castle for the wedding.”
“A big castle, and a wedding like yesterday.” Mary sighed, her eyes lit with memory. “Was it beautiful?”
“I’m sure it was.”
“And did they live happily ever after?”
“Of course they did. For a hundred years and a day.”
“A hundred years?” Clarice sounded exasperated. “You’ll put even more dreams in my daughter’s head.”
The daughter in question hopped down from her mother’s lap and clambered onto Cameron’s lap instead. “There’s nothing wrong with dreaming,” he told Clarice over Mary’s curly head.
“Not until you wake up,” Clarice said softly.
“You still have dreams,” Mary disagreed. “In the night, sometimes I hear you dreaming.”
“I suspect those are more like nightmares,” Cameron said dryly.
A knock came at the door, and Mary sprang from his lap to answer it, squealing with delight when she saw a small, dark-haired girl. “Anne!” She turned to Clarice, her big blue eyes wide with hope. “Mama? Please, can I play? Oh, please?”
“Run along, poppet,” Clarice said. “But mind you finish your chores later.”
The door banged shut, and she turned to Cam with a motherly shake of her head. Then she blushed suddenly. “You should leave,” she murmured. “It’s unseemly for us to be alone.”
When he made no move to depart, she bent her head back to her bowl of strawberries. A spell passed where all he could hear was the liquidy sound of her work, her soft breathing, and the beat of his own heart in the still room.
“You really must leave,” she said at last. “As it is, I’ll be spending all night convincing my daughter she won’t be trying on a shoe and ending up in a castle.”
“But, Clarice, I live in a castle. Though it’s nothing like Cainewood, more’s the pity.” He raised her hand and kissed it lightly, making her eyes widen. Crivvens, how he loved her unexpected mixture of straightforwardness and seeming innocence. “I’m wondering if I could persuade you to accompany me home to see it.”
She tried to pull her hand away, but he held tight. Her cheeks flushed pink. “You’re jesting.”
“Maybe.” She looked so pretty when flustered, he couldn’t resist teasing her a wee bit more. “But one never knows what the future may bring.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she gave a little huff of disbelief. Biting back a smile, he set her hand on the table and patted it comfortingly. “May I see you again tomorrow, Clarice?”
“Tomorrow?” she echoed, looking dazed.
He nodded and stood. “I won’t put your reputation at jeopardy by staying here with you alone,” he said, making his way toward the door. “But I’ll come tomorrow, and together we’ll decide if I’m jesting or not.”
Without waiting to see her reaction, he slipped outside, letting loose a resounding sneeze as he made his way through her garden. Whistling tunelessly on the walk back to the castle, he wondered if he’d been jesting at all.
FIVE
THE NEXT DAY, Clarice returned from her morning errands to find Sir Cameron sitting on the low stone wall in front of her cottage, looking altogether too good for her comfort.
Beneath a jaunty brown hat, his hair ruffled in the breeze. Her husband’s hair had been a coarse gray, but Sir Cameron’s was a silky mixture of blonds and browns. As she pictured herself running her fingers through it, her hand tightened around Mary’s, and she realized she’d thought about him all the night and morning.
Whatever was happening to her? It had to stop.
Her daughter broke from her grasp and went skipping down the lane, straight into Sir Cameron’s arms. He stood and swung her in a wide circle, clearly delighting in her high-pitched squeal. Holding a basket heaped with strawberries, Clarice couldn’t help smiling as she came near.
It wasn’t stopping.
He settled Mary on one hip, his nose buried in her blond curls, and Clarice could tell he was enjoying her daughter’s sweet, childish scent. She’d never imagined a young man would appreciate a thing like that.
“I’ve a mind to go rowing on the river,” he told Clarice.
“Oh.” She looked down at the toes of her neat black shoes. “I hope you’ll enjoy yourself.”
“I meant with you,” he said, making her glance up.
His lopsided grin displayed those dimples that made a giggle want to bubble out of her. But Clarice Bradford didn’t giggle.
“And Mary, of course,” he added as he set her on her feet.
“I want to play with Anne,” Mary said. “I told her I would bring my doll over this morning. Mama made me a most lovely doll,” she told Sir Cameron.
“Why would you promise Anne such a thing?” Clarice started toward her door. “You knew that today you’re to salt and mold the butter.”
Mary trailed after her. “I forgot,” she said, her cheeks flushing pink. Cam sneezed as he followed them through the garden. “Please, Mama?” she asked as he shut the door behind them.
Cam would never have found it in him to deny the wee lass, but Clarice looked resolute. Mary turned to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Would you mind very much taking Mama rowing without me? Only because I promised Anne.”
Was the little minx plotting to get him and Clarice alone together? “I’ll miss you,” he told Mary with a broad smile, “but nay, I wouldn’t mind. It’s important to keep your promises.”
“The butter—” Clarice began.
“I’ll do it later, Mama. I promise, like
