Page 26 of To My Scot, With Love
She smiled, eyes glowing. “It has. But honestly, I’d be happy to be kissed by you behind a pig-shed.”
He returned her smile and then leaned forward to sneak a quick kiss.
“Has Master Felix been stealing kisses?”
She looked away and seemed to drift off again. When she met his gaze again, something shimmered in her eyes. Concern? Fear?
“No, he hasn’t. But call it a mother’s intuition. I have a feeling that my son may never steal kisses.” She paused, and he barely caught her hushed words. “From women.”
“Oh,” Malcolm said dumbly.
“I had a similar reaction. Though I did my best to mask it. And it is not as though he stated such outright. But, well… He feels different from other boys. Fears he won’t ever have what Freddy and I have.” She paused, silence settling over them.
“He mentioned how the friends he runs around with talk about girls in ways he doesn’t understand,” she finally added softly. “In a way, he doesn’t think he’ll ever feel. He’s clearly confused.”
A breath escaped her lips, the air dancing over his chest, and gooseflesh rose in its wake.
“And now that he’s brought it up… I find myself looking back on instances I previously hadn’t thought twice about. Because now… I can’t help but wonder if those may mean something.” Her face pinched. “I’m nervous for him.”
“Because of the implications of that.”
She nodded. “It is considered a crime. Punishable by…”
“Aye, but that doesnae have to be his fate.” He cradled her face, thumb brushing over her chin and jaw. “You have the privilege of title, wealth. The Bentley name is protection in itself. And he hasye, Lydia. I am sure you can come up with a way for him to live his life without repercussions. If I know ye at all, ye’re already plotting in that bonnie head of yours. A battle plan to protect yer son.”
She leaned into his hand. “I’ll admit, I have been. I’ve been scanning through my memory of every whisper and rumor I can recollect. I know there are others who live discreetly and have no trouble.”
“And if it were ever brought to light…many have fled to the continent. No’ ideal, and I’m sure not what you’re hoping for. But he’d be safe there. You have the funds for something such as that.”
“I won’t let that happen,” she said, her voice turning hard. “I won’t lose my son. I am going to speak with Freddy as soon as he returns home. We will come up with-with…” She struggled for a moment and then burst out, “Contingencies! We won’t be like that awful family. TheTrentons,” she spat. “Sentencing their ownsonto hanging.”
A growl ripped from her, and Malcolm’s mouth gaped open. What a vicious wee thing she was. A bonnie wee badger.
“Easy, lass.” His fingers trailed down to her neck, where her pulse beat sharp and insistent against his palm. “Remember, he escaped.”
“No thanks to his family,” she burst out. “They wanted him to hang. Good lord, how could a mother ever—” Her voice broke off on a dry sob.
“Because the world is sorely lacking in people like you, love.” He pulled her close to his chest, tucking her beneath his chin. “But ye can fight for that to change. Being in the position you’re in.”
“I will,” she murmured into his skin. “I’ll fight. The Jennings will. And I’ll find others of like mind.”
“Aye, lass. And ye have me. No’ that I have any sort of influence. But I’m braw, as you recall. I’ll give you strength when you’re lacking.”
She hummed softly. “I appreciate that,” she finally whispered. “More than you know, Malcolm.”
Happiness whirred through his chest, a glowing warmth. Knowing he could be that person for her.
“Tell me something about yourself,” she said. “Something not many know.”
His gaze automatically went to his small desk. To the letter that lay atop it. The glowing warmth turned cold, sinking. But he wanted to tell her. Wanted her to know he trusted her the same way she trusted him. Wanted her to know there’d never be any secrets between them.
“Sometimes…” he started slowly. “I receive wind of horses being treated cruelly.”
She shuffled back and propped her chin on her arms folded over his chest, her curious blue gaze giving him her full attention. Small lines dusted her forehead as she waited for him to elaborate.
“I…rehome them.”
A small furrow built between her eyes. “You…rehome abused horses.”
