Page 59 of Hard-Hearted Highlander
His nieces and nephews were there, and another child, one so small that it took him a moment to realize it was Georgina, Cailean and Daisy’s bairn. He glanced at the lad who held his horse. “My brother has come?” He hadn’t expected them so soon as this.
“Aye, this morning.”
Rabbie changed course and walked to the green to have a look at the wee little lass. He’d not seen her in some time. She was what, perhaps three years, now, maybe four? She had golden hair and pale green eyes, like her mother. His niece Maira was minding the children, all of them racing about, and he noticed Fiona and Ualan MacBee standing nearby. “It’s Uncle Rabbie!” his nephew Bruce shouted, and like a heard of sheep, the other children raced toward him.
“Halt there,” Rabbie said, but it was no use—they swarmed him, giggling and laughing as they did, knocking him to the ground...or perhaps Rabbie fell. He wanted to laugh with them as he used to do, but he couldn’t. Hecouldn’t. He rolled with them, tossing one and then the other, much to their delight, until he was able to stand again. He stared down at those smiling, upturned faces, their eyes and mouths and brows so sweet and carefree, showing no signs of despair or tragedy. Their day would come, but today, they were beautiful in their innocence.
“Are you sad today, uncle?” asked Nira, Vivienne’s youngest daughter.
“No’ today, lass. No’ today. Who’s this?” he asked, and picked up Georgina to kiss her cheek. Georgina screwed up her face and turned her head.
“I’m your uncle, lass, do you know me, then?”
“No,”she said. “I want down.”
“Come, on then,” Maira said, reaching for Georgina. His nieces and nephews had already tired of him, and they had raced back to the green. Maira took Georgina by the hand and ran behind them.
Rabbie noticed Fiona had come forward, tentatively. He gestured for her to come to him. She ran forward, eager to be included. Rabbie caressed her head and thought of what Aulay had said—that he ought to acquaint himself with these two children. “A bonny lass you are, Fiona,” he said. “You look so much like your mother, aye?”
“Do I?” She had Seona’s eyes, he thought, and they were shining at him. Rabbie felt a peculiar whisper sweep through him, almost as if it was Seona looking at him now. Did she know that he’d pleasured another woman and had fiercely wanted to find his own pleasure in her?
“Do you know more about my mother?” Fiona asked. “Was her hair as long as mine?”
“Aye, as long as yours.”
“Did she have a dog?”
“Two,” he said, and the lass smiled with delight.
“What else?”
“I’ve an idea,” he said. “We’ll have a wee walk, we will, and I’ll tell you all that I know of your mother and father. Where is your brother, then?”
Fiona pointed.
The lad hung back, separate from the rest of them, watching them all with hooded eyes. It struck Rabbie that he seemed uncertain of his place. He motioned him forward, and when Ualan reached him, Rabbie put his arm around his shoulders.“Ciamar a tha thu?”he asked.
“Verra well,” Ualan muttered, and looked at his feet.
“Bonny day, is it no’?” Rabbie asked.
Ualan shrugged.
“Fiona and I mean to have a wee walk so that I might tell her what I recall about your parents, aye? Will you join us?”
Ualan nodded. He did not smile like his sister. His dark eyes looked haunted. Bleak. Much the way Rabbie often felt inside, and it made him ache for the lad. For himself, as well. He tousled Ualan’s hair. “It’s all right, lad,” Rabbie said, apropos of nothing, other than a kindred feeling of despair. “It’s all right.”
If Ualan wondered what, precisely, was all right, he did not inquire. Rabbie didn’t know why he’d said it, for nothing would ever be all right for a wee lad who’d lost his family and now had a sister to look after. But something in him wanted this child to have a modicum of hope.
“Aye, then, let’s have a walk,” he said, and turned about and began to move.
Fiona skipped alongside him. Ualan took great strides, his head down, saying very little.
Rabbie proceeded to tell them all he could recall of Gavina MacLeod. He regretted that he couldn’t recall more than he did, and that everything he said felt inadequate. He toyed with the thought of bringing them to Arrandale until some decision was made as to their future. But then he thought of how often he couldn’t seem to keep the darkness from swallowing his thoughts, how often it led to drinking and brooding. They didn’t deserve that.
They didn’t deserve what had happened to them. They didn’t deserve to be orphans.
He spent more than an hour with them, saying more than he guessed he might have said in the last year. He answered Fiona’s many questions, surreptitiously watching Ualan for any sign of good humor. But then Ualan said they were expected in the kitchens, and carefully pocketed the sweetmeat Rabbie had bought them when they’d passed the inn.
