Page 93 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
Taking the steps two at a time, he pursued her, but as he reached the door, he heard the key turn in the lock.
“Lydia!”
All he could hear inside was her sobbing as the bed springs creaked. Callum pounded on the door.
“Lydia, open the door,” he demanded. He did not like being separated from her.
The distance should have been a good thing, but Callum was beginning to realize that any separation between them made his skin itch.
He knocked again, reducing the strength of his fists to gentle the thudding sound. He waited, listening for the click of the lock, but all he could hear were her sobs.
If he so chose, he could have made his way in through the adjoining door, but he did not wish to enter the room without her consent. Having her mother and brother leave less than an hour before the girls left must have taken a heavy toll.
Sighing, he made his way along the corridor to the girls’ room. Opening the door, he stepped inside, the pain of their absence hitting him full in the chest. He hadn’t expected to care for them as he did. They were not his children; he had not known them well until he had arrived here.
Yet, in the small space of time that he had spent with them, Eilis and Amy had got under his skin.
They were sharp, intelligent young girls, and despite his suspicions that they might turn out exactly like their mother, they were beginning to remind him more of his brother day by day.
Angus was moral, wise, and fiercely loyal. Both girls had those traits, especially Amy.
Callum rubbed his palm against his forehead, the silence of the room eating at him.
Why did I nae fight her? I could have fought them all off, and then the girls would still be here.
But Lydia had been right to hold him back. Goodness knew what the girls would think if he had sliced off their mother’s head in front of them.
Looking to his right, he found what he was searching for.
Raven was a sleeping black ball in the center of a golden cushion on a chair. The little cat had a new red collar that looked as if it had been handmade. Callum recognized Kristen’s handiwork in that.
Those girls have got the whole castle wrapped around their little finger… or at least… they did have.
He stepped up to the cat, Raven looking up at him and blinking sleepily as he bent down and picked him up.
Holding the cat in front of him, Callum was amazed to find that the kitten was so small that he fit inside the confines of his hand. It tucked its little feet beneath its chest and went back to sleep.
Frowning at it, he huffed out a frustrated breath.
“Dae ye nae miss the girls who have been carin’ for ye? This is why I prefer dogs,” he muttered.
Stepping back out into the corridor, he made his way back to Lydia’s room, holding the kitten close to his chest.
The sobs seemed to have subsided somewhat, and he could hear nothing from within.
“Lydia,” he murmured, one hand on the door. “Raven isnae well, would ye come and have a look at him?”
For a little time, there was silence from inside, and then the bed springs creaked again, and he heard soft footfalls approaching the door.
Finally, it opened, and Callum’s throat constricted as he saw the red rims around her beautiful eyes.
He realized in that moment how open and happy her expression usually was. Even when she was unsure, she always welcomed him with a smile.
Now, she looked lost, afraid, and miserable.
“He’s sick?” she asked, holding out her hand to the kitten.
“Nay, I just wanted ye to open the door,” Callum said, and she grimaced at him. Taking the kitten carefully from him, she attempted to slam the door in his face.
