Page 20 of A Wife for the Highland Wolf
Wilma’s eyes searched her face. “Ye…havenae heard? The stories?”
“Nae at all. Should I have?” She kept her eyes on Wilma’s face, and a puzzled expression on her own. “Is there something ye can tell me that I need to ken about Murdoch or the clan?”
Wilma hesitated, then shook her head. “Nay. Nae that I can tell ye. Words from me wouldnae make much difference in the end. Tis somethin' ye’ll learn of soon enough.”
“Is it…bad? Or is something wrong?”
Wilma shook her head again, then rose from the ground and brushed the grass from her skirts. “As I said, tis somethin' ye’ll learn of soon enough. Best I daenae speak of it one way or the other.”
She reached down and picked up Finn. The child gurgled happily, a line of drool streaking down the corner of his chin as he showed off a mouth full of baby teeth. “I need to take Finn in to bathe and feed him. I’ll see ye at dinner.”
Lydia watched as Wilma turned away. She felt chilly and suddenly lonely. She’d never lived in a place without her sisters, and the idea of being without female company made her suddenly, desperately, homesick. She pushed herself upright and reached to catch Wilma’s shoulder, mindful of Finn and the need to not jostle him.
Wilma stopped and looked back at her with a questioning gaze. Lydia swallowed and looked down at the bairn in the other woman’s arms. “I was wondering…could I come with ye? I’d like to learn how to care for him too.”
Wilma’s uncertain expression melted like ice in the spring sun. “Aye. I think that’s an excellent idea.”
11
The meeting was finally over and Murdoch was tired. Not so tired, however, that he couldn’t look in on his son. He’d seen Wilma take Finn from the garden earlier, with Lydia and Hector trailing along beside them.
Like as not, Wilma had taken Finn in for his mid-afternoon feeding and changing, and possibly a nap. He wasn’t entirely sure where Lydia had gone, but he was determined to see Finn before seeking out his betrothed.
As a laird, he often had to entrust his son to the care of the servants or his kinfolk. Even so, he preferred to spend as much time as he could with his son. It gave him some peace of mind to witness Finn’s innocent delight in his presence.
He couldn’t say that he’d been the best husband, but he did his best to be a good father, and saw to it that the lad had an abundance of love and attention while he was forced to turn his attention to other matters.
As he neared the door to the nursery he heard soft voices and gentle endearments muttered in counterpart to Finn’s laughter and nonsense noises. Murdoch paused as he realized there were two voices. One was Wilma’s, easily recognizable, but the other was harder for him to identify.
Then he saw the large furry bulk that rested just outside the nursery door and smiled to himself. It seemed he’d have an easier time finding his betrothed than he’d previously expected.
He crouched to scratch Hector’s ears, moving quietly so as not to disturb the scene within the nursery. Hector huffed softly at him but didn’t make any noise to draw the attention of the two women, which allowed Murdoch to watch to his heart’s content.
Inside, Wilma and Lydia were both leaning over Finn’s bed, whispering quiet words to soothe the bairn into sleep. The sight gave him a sense of peaceful satisfaction as he rose to his feet and leaned against the door frame, as still unnoticed by his cousin or bride-to-be.
He’d been well pleased with Lydia as a betrothed for several reasons but now, seeing her with Finn only proved that he’d been correct in choosing her. Her attentiveness to a bairn not even her own hinted at Lydia’s excellent instincts for motherhood, which would please the council.
Truth be told, it pleased him as well. He’d never demand children from Lydia, but he couldn’t deny that he’d be happy if there were more bairns and a larger family in his future. He’d never struggled with being an only child, not with Gordon andWilma raised alongside him, and he wanted his son to have siblings, since cousins were unlikely, at least for the moment.
He watched as Finn slowly settled down for a nap, making soft, murmuring noises as he slipped into whatever dreams a wee bairn might have.
“Och, he’s the sweetest bairn, that he is.” Her words shifted his attention from Finn to Lydia, who was leaning over the crib and stroking Finn’s cheek with a feather-light touch.
“He always has been. From the day he was birthed, he’s brought joy to our household.” Wilma responded.
“I can see why.” Lydia’s brow creased. “Do ye think…will yer cousin mind if I spend time with him, perhaps watch over him from time to time when ye’ve work to do?”
The question was so hesitant and uncertain that Murdoch couldn’t help himself, and snorted out a laugh. Both women started and looked up, wide-eyed, as he stepped into the room.
“O’ course ye're welcome to spend time with me son.” He tipped his head toward Lydia. “Leavin’ aside the fact that ye're to be his mother in all but blood one day, the only mother he’s like to ever remember, ye’re nae a prisoner in me home, nor a distrusted guest. There’s nay reason, so far as I ken, that ye shouldnae be welcome to spend time with the lad.”
He stepped closer, looking down at Finn’s cherubic face, relaxed in sleep. “In fact, I’m fair pleased to see ye takin’ interest in the wee bairn. It will certainly help to have the experience when we begin raisin’ our own.”
He accompanied the last words with a raised eyebrow and a meaningful look that made Wilma smother her giggles and Lydia flush a brilliant crimson.
Still, as he’d come to expect of her, she was quick to find words to respond. “Daenae ken when ye’re thinkin’ there might be bairns for us, me Laird, but I am glad ye daenae mind me feedin’ him. I’ve grown fond of the duty, helping care for me nieces and nephews.”
The frank admission, the teasing, and the way she looked so tenderly at Finn’s sleeping form…all of it struck a chord deep inside of Murdoch’s gut. He wasn’t sure what the feeling meant, only that it was powerful and deep. He swallowed hard against a sudden wave of mingled nostalgia and wistfulness.
