Page 17 of To My Scot, With Love
An anxious band weaved through her chest. She didn’t like not being there if they called for her. She tried to remind herself that she was more than a mother, that carving out space for her own happiness didn’t make her selfish.You’re not a bad mother, she repeated in her mind. Yet the guilt was an ever-present stubborn companion. The woes of being a mother. And because of that, she needed to take advantage of every moment with this man.
“Will you tell me a little bit about yourself?” she rushed out. “I know we know quite a bit already, having known each other a decade. But why’d you come to England from Scotland? Do you have any siblings? Family close by? Back in Scotland? What do you do in your spare time?”
Malcolm chuckled. “Easy, lass, one question at a time.”
She smiled, sufficiently chagrined. “Apologies. I can’t help but want to know everything about you.”
His blue eyes softened to a warm slate. “I like the interest. And I’m curious just the same about you.” His chest lifted with a heavy breath. “‘Tis not the nicest of stories, just to warn you.”
She gave him an encouraging nod to keep going.
“When I was a lad of sixteen, my parents went out to the market, and a thief marked them as a target. My da fought back, and the thief ended up killing them both.”
Lydia’s hand flew to her mouth, her gasp slicing through the small room.
A sad smile twisted Malcolm’s lips, and his eyes grew liquid, melted steel. “Aye,” he said roughly. “My da was a trainer at a laird’s estate. The laird offered me a position in the stables, knowing I’d learned much from my da about working with horses. But I couldnae stay. To be reminded every day of what I’d lost… I couldnae even bear hearing other people speak. Certain phrases would remind me of Mam—”
He blew out a breath and closed his eyes for a few beats. When he opened them, they were the lightest blue-grey Lydia had ever seen, as though the sadness had washed away the color.
“I packed up and left for England. With the hope I could secure a position working with horses.”
“And is that how you ended up here?”
“Not quite. I found myself a stable boy position at a baron’s estate. He was a kind elderly gentleman. Think he took pity on me. Which was fortunate for me. No’ an easy journey, nor the safest, for a lad as young as I was. But I had my height in my favor, though I was lanky as a beanpole.”
“Mmm,” she hummed. “Even the first time I saw you—you must have been early twenties? You were quite lean.”
He grinned at her, a tiny bit of color bleeding back into those piercing eyes. “It gives me much satisfaction to know ye were keekin’ at me.”
“Keeking?”
He bounced his eyebrows. “Peepin’. Spying.”
She gently slapped the back of her hand across his shoulder. “It was by accident! Though I’ll admit, once I saw you, I couldn’t stop looking. I should have left, but—well, you were captivating.”
A light pink dusted his high cheekbones.
“More so now,” she murmured. “All big and…braw.” She bit back her smile and rolled her lips in.
His gaze dipped to her mouth. “You like my size, Lydia? I’m no dainty soft-handed Englishman. These hands?” He held them up, ungloved, rough. “They’re calloused. A working man’s hands. And about the size o’ a dinner plate.”
A soft snort escaped her, and she pressed her lips tight against her mirth. “Honestly, Malcolm? Whatever you were, short, tall, broad, or slim. Dinner plate or tea-saucer plate hands. It’s what I would want. I was drawn to the way you looked when I first came here, but as we’ve grown to know each other over the years?”
She tilted her head, studying him. “I have developed an attachment for you,” she said softly. “You the man, who you are at your core. The handsome exterior is just a boon on top of the amazing man you are beneath.”
He ducked a bashful smile behind adinner plate-sized hand, his blush deepening to a charming crimson.
She put the poor, adorable man out of his misery. “So, you then ended up here? Sometime after the position at the baron’s estate?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “The baron recognized my talent. Thought I had potential. When he heard of an opening for a groom position here, he pulled a favor for me. Said he thought there was an opportunity here for me to achieve the stable master position one day. And that’s no’ something of light at an estate such as this one.”
“And you’ll be stable master soon. Once Mr. Porter retires.”
Malcolm’s smile turned fond, curving up higher on one side. “Yes, I’ll take over for Port. He’s been an exceptional mentor. In more than just working the stables.”
“I’m glad you had him as a friend to rely on here.”
“Me too, lass. Now tell me a bit about yourself.” He lifted his dark brows. “How’d ye find yourself in this…arrangement.”
