In Scot Water - Caroline Lee Page 0,24

to say—”

“Liam.”

“But ye said we couldnae speak to ladies of male crambulationary organs, and then ye went and said the word penis.”

Evelinde pressed her lips tightly, focusing on feeding her son, while casting surreptitious glances at the man across from her. She’s always thought Liam to be a very smart little boy, but he could try a saint’s patience with his questions.

But Malcolm merely smiled.

“Aye, lad, I did. Even adults make mistakes sometimes. But I am a gentleman, no’ a duck, so I must remember my manners.”

Liam frowned thoughtfully, and Evelinde’s heart fluttered in response.

Malcolm had not dismissed the lad, nor yelled at him about respect. He’d apologized and set the perfect example.

“Now,” the man said nonchalantly, reaching for his mug of water, “do ye want me to tell ye more about the animals I’ve read about?”

The little boy’s expression lit up. “Oh, aye! Mama, Malcolm kens the most interesting things, and they’re no’ all about pen—about inappropriate topics, Mama! He said if I was good, he’d tell me more interesting things before bedtime!”

It was the most wonderful response she could’ve imagined, and it came from a man not even related to the lad. Was it any wonder it took her voice several tries to work?

“I think that sounds lovely, honeybun, assuming ye continue to be good.”

Her son sat up smartly on his stool, nodded regally, and picked up his sausage with the impression of a noble courtier.

Or at least, how he must imagine one would look, eating a sausage.

Evelinde exchanged an amused look with Malcolm, which warmed her insides in a way not even last night’s pleasure had.

After the meal, after they were all ready for bed, Evelinde sat nursing Tomas as Nanny climbed up to her loft and rested her head on her paws, peering down at all of them.

The bairn hiccupped, and everyone froze, waiting for him to spit up. But he just smacked happily and went back to his meal.

Grinning, Malcolm propped his feet up near the hearth and pulled Liam into his lap.

“Yer mother tells ye stories from history each evening, aye?”

“Aye!” The lad bounced. “She’s the best mother!”

Malcolm’s gaze cut her way, as he said with a smile, “I can tell. Well, tonight, I’ll tell ye of the travels of Ibn Battuta, who recorded wonders ye and I can only dream of.”

As Tomas fell asleep at her breast, as Malcolm wove tales of fantastical far-away places, as Liam’s eyelids grew heavy and he curled up in the man’s arms, Evelinde felt tears gather in her eyes. This was…’twas perfect.

Aye, the rain still beat down outside. And aye, they were running low on food, and the burn threatened to overrun its banks. Aye, there was danger.

But here and now, she was warm and safe, and her children were happy. As one fat tear rolled off her cheek, she glanced down to watch it splash against Tomas’s head. The wee angel did naught more than work his little lips, as if he were still suckling in his sleep. She smiled and used the pad of her thumb to brush away the tear, lifting him higher and tucking in her breast as she did so.

She realized Malcolm’s story had stopped.

When she looked up, it was to find him watching her, an expression on his face she couldn’t quite identify. Yearning, mayhap? Yearning for what?

Liam had fallen asleep in his arms, and she watched Malcolm blink, then glance down. His lips pulled into a smile as he stood and carried the lad up to the loft. She should’ve used the time to put the bairn to sleep, but instead, she sat there watching the man tuck a blanket around her son’s shoulders and speak softly to the dog.

When he came back down, she was still staring, and had to force her attention elsewhere. Flustered, she stood quickly enough to jar Tomas, who whimpered softly against her chest.

She was humming to him when Malcolm appeared in front of her, and her gaze jerked up to his.

That intensity was back in his expression as he lifted his hand to her cheek. Was he remembering what had passed between them last night?

She was grateful for the bairn who slept between them, but at the same time, yearned to thrust herself forward and feel Malcolm’s body pressed against hers once more.

“Ye should sleep in the bed tonight, Evelinde. I will sleep in the hay again, like I used to.”

‘Twas not what she’d expected him to say. She shook her head.

“Ye are the