“Only for you, lass.” It was the truth. With Lydia, his hardhearted self seemed to melt away. His usual charm and merciless seduction didn’t matter now. All that mattered when Lydia was around was her safety and happiness.
“We should leave tomorrow. You may write to your father here in Edinburgh and tell him you are safe. We’ll find a way to reunite you without bloodshed when he and I have both had time to let our tempers cool.”
“Thank you.” She moved her head up and brushed her mouth over his, leaving him almost trembling with the need for more of everything from this woman.
“We should go see to Isla. She must be so frightened.”
Brodie lifted Lydia off his lap, and they went upstairs together. They found Rafe speaking to the housekeeper, Mrs. Llewellyn, who was holding a small nightgown.
“Ah, there you are,” Rafe greeted them. “Fanny is washing the little scamp now, and she’s had something to eat. Mrs. Llewellyn has a small nightgown she can make do with tonight. But she’ll need proper clothes tomorrow.”
“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Brodie said.
“Excellent,” Rafe said. “Well, I’m off to bed. Unlike you Scots, a full bottle of sipping whiskey leaves its mark on me.” He grinned and left for his bedchamber.
“It’s a good thing we were here,” said the housekeeper. “The poor man had no idea what to do with the girl. Offered her a glass of that whiskey to calm her nerves!”
“Oh dear,” Lydia said. “Mrs. Llewellyn, is there an empty bedchamber we could use for Isla?”
“Yes, Miss Hunt.” The housekeeper bobbed a quick curtsy and went to attend to that task.
“Let me go see how the girls are faring.” Lydia left Brodie in the corridor as she slipped into the bedchamber. He could hear Lydia gently teasing the girl and Fanny giggling inside. And after a few minutes, when he was allowed to enter, he was astonished by the sight of the small girl now robed in an overlong nightgown. Her big blue eyes seemed so ancient, and her dark-brown hair lay in wet tendrils over her shoulders. Fanny was gently running a comb through the tangles.
“Isla, this is Brodie Kincaid,” Lydia said. The little girl blushed deeply and half hid behind Lydia’s skirts.
Lydia looked down at Isla. “We have a lovely big bedroom for you, sweetheart. Would you like to see?”
“How many people will I have to share the bed with?” the girl asked in a whisper.
“No one, my darling. Just you,” Fanny said. She and Lydia shared sympathetic glances.
“Aye, Isla. You have an entire room all to yourself. Come and let me show you.” Brodie held out a hand, and she came to him after a coaxing push from Lydia. The child’s hand was so small and soft that he felt like a giant as he curled his fingers around hers. He led her to the room next door, which Mrs. Llewellyn had informed him was ready for the child as she left.
Isla’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the tall four-poster bed. Brodie lifted her up and set her on it, then retrieved a red velvet cushioned footstool and set it against one side of the bed.
“You can climb on this to get in and out of bed.”
Isla stretched a dainty little foot toward the footstool and touched it. She smiled up at him shyly.
“Time for bed.” He pulled the bedclothes back, and the child climbed beneath them. Brodie tucked her in and on impulse bent and kissed her forehead. “Sleep, wee one. Tomorrow will look brighter. I promise.”
“Good night.” Isla sighed, her eyes closed, and she surrendered to sleep.
Brodie blew out the candles in the room and stepped outside, where Lydia was waiting.
“Do you think she will be all right?” she asked.
“If not, we are nearby.” Brodie reached for her hand. Lydia laced her fingers through his as they walked to their bedchamber.
“Heavens, I am quite fatigued,” she sighed as he closed the door.
He pulled her into his arms. “You have been through a lot tonight, lass.” He simply held her at first, stroking his palms up and down her back. When she pressed her lips to his neck, the tension in him returned, only one caused by desire rather than fear.
“I’m not too tired to . . . you know,” she confessed in a whisper.
“Neither am I,” he reassured her. He was all too aware of where their bodies touched. He wanted, needed, to sink into her welcoming softness.