Page 22 of Snowdrops and Winterberry
In a low voice, she sang to him the song she had since he was born, one that never failed to calm him.
Saw ye my wee thing? Saw ye my own thing?
Saw ye my bonnie boy down by the lea?
He skipped ’cross the meadow yestere’en at the gloaming.
Small as a thistle my dear boy is he.
Adam sniffled a little, curling himself against her. She pressed a little kiss to the top of his head. That he didn’t object, he who wouldn’t even let her hold his hand lately, spoke volumes of his heavy heart.
Mr. Simpkin set his hand around her free one. He didn’t say anything but simply offered support. She had come to realize he was very observant and hardly missed a thing. He had seemed to sort out that she was grieving. Though she was generally a very private person and kept to herself, she accepted the comfort he offered and laid her head against his shoulder.
They rode like that all the way back to Brier Hill. Leaning into the strength of this good-hearted man, with a child resting on her lap, Robbie could almost picture herself with the family she’d never have. Servants didn’t marry. And they didn’t have children. If she took up employment as a nursemaid again, this little dream she’d never let fully blossom in her heart could never become reality. But she had no other skills. And leaving Adam would devastate him.
If only life were as easy to sort as a surprise Christmas celebration.
Chapter Ten
Miss MacGregor had Howard thinkingany number of foolish things. He’d never before sat beside a woman as she sang to comfort a child. That moment had etched itself into his mind and, stranger still, into his heart. He’d never before let himself imagine being part of a moment like that, and now he could think of little else.
Rain had begun falling not long after they’d returned to Brier Hill. Howard wasn’t averse to working in the rain—he’d never accomplish anything otherwise—but this was a downpour of near-biblical proportions. He’d resigned himself to spending the remainder of the day in his coach-turned-house. His attempt at distracting himself with a bit of whittling was proving futile. That, of course, was likely owing to the fact that what he was carving was a toy horse for the young duke.
Saw ye my wee thing? Saw ye my own thing?
Saw ye my bonnie boy down by the lea?
He skipped ’cross the meadow yestere’en at the gloaming.
Small as a thistle my dear boy is he.
He smiled to himself as Miss MacGregor’s voice echoed in his mind. What else did she sing? Was she one to hum while she worked? He’d enjoyed talking with her as they’d worked in the garden, and he was intrigued at the idea of music filling a moment like that.
Quit your foolishness, now.
He had nothing but this oddity of a house and a life of constant change to offer a woman. He wasn’t poor, but he was far from wealthy. Though he’d not yet reached forty, he knew that years spent laboring in the sun, hefting heavy loads, and working himself to the bone had aged him. Any woman wouldhesitate when faced with those things.
And this woman had more reasons than those. To build a life with someone, she’d have to stop working as a nursemaid. She couldn’t keep living at or near Falstone Castle. Building a life elsewhere meant leaving her beloved little duke. She would never do that.
It likely didn’t matter either way. He’d no assurance she felt the same pull toward him that he had begun to feel for her. And there he was, already pondering futures. Foolishness upon foolishness.
Howard pushed thoughts of singing and smiles and fiery Scotswomen from his mind and focused fully on his whittling. He managed it for a full five minutes when a knock sounded on the door of his carriage house.
Who could possibly be venturing out in weather like this?
He opened the door slowly because it opened outward and most people weren’t expecting that.
“Miss MacGregor.” The shock of seeing her there froze him. He quickly recollected himself, though, and pulled her inside and out of the rain. “You might’ve drowned trying to get here.”
“I am a right good swimmer.”
He latched the door against the gusts of wet wind. “Are you, now?”
“Actually, no.”
“Something important must have convinced you to brave the elements.”
She nodded. “Lady Jonquil said she is fond of...” Her brow tugged in thought. “I was so careful to repeat it over and over so I’d nae forget.” She bounced in place, rubbing at her arms.
