Scot to the Touch (The Hots for Scots #7) - Caroline Lee Page 0,18

how her sister seemed in a much better mood today than she had yesterday. Mayhap she just needed a good night’s sleep. Nae one rests well while traveling.

“ ’Tis good to see ye smiling this morning, lassies,” said Moira as she bustled by, carrying a crock of milk. “A cheerful face is always best in the morning!”

Remembering what she’d learned about the housekeeper’s sleeping arrangements, Kat couldn’t help wondering if the plump woman was smiling for the same reason she was.

“Here, let me help ye!” Katlyn called out, hurrying after Moira, and the two settled into an easy conversation as Davina chatted with Lara.

By the time the meal was prepared, Kat and Vina were among the first to settle at the high table, which slowly began to fill with members of the family. Mostly ‘twas Kiergan’s brothers who hurried to break their fast before going about their duties, but one of the wives joined as well just as Kat was finishing her meal. She smiled as she slid in on Kat’s other side, balancing a plump bairn on her hip and calling out instructions to the lad on her other side.

“Evelinde, aye?” Kat asked quietly, having learned long ago not to force her company on someone without warning. Often strangers were pleasant enough until they got a good look at her eyes, but then they clammed up.

But to her surprise, Kiergan’s sister-in-law turned to her and shoved the bairn into Kat’s arms. “Aye, and this is Tomas. Will ye hold him for a moment? Be careful, he spits up.”

Before Kat could agree, Evelinde had turned back to the lad and was soon busy scooping porridge into a bowl for him. The boy was keeping up a running commentary, but Kat heard little of it; instead, her attention was focused on the creature in her arms.

He was a bright-eyed little lad, with a shock of his mother’s dark hair. She held him under his arms and edged him closer to the table so she could rest his arse on the edge and take some weight off her arms.

“He’s adorable,” murmured Vina, her head cocked to one side. “What do ye think she meant by spit up?”

Isn’t that what bairns did? A dangerous fluttering began settling in Katlyn’s chest as she watched the wee lad watch her back with serious eyes. From the time she’d been a young lass, Kat had been told she wouldn’t be married, and she wouldn’t have any bairns of her own. No man would marry a woman with the devil’s curse.

But last night, she’d become a woman, even though she wasn’t married. He hadn’t spilled his seed in her, but Kat suddenly realized ‘twas possible to become a mother, even if no man would marry her. The possibility terrified her, but there was a part of her, tucked away behind the acceptance and yearning, which she suddenly realized had been there all along.

She wanted a bairn of her own.

“Och, nay, ye dinnae have to treat him as if he’s made of clay!” Evelinde admonished, turning back to her. “Here, tuck the wee scoundrel up against yer shoulder, like so, and just dinnae bounce him too hard.”

Before Katlyn could blink, the bairn was against her chest, reaching for her hair and cooing happily. Evelinde watched a moment, then nodded her head approvingly.

“Ye dinnae mind holding him a bit longer? So I can eat in peace?”

She’d asked so sarcastically, Kat had to chuckle. She exchanged a glance with her sister, who shrugged, and then shifted on the bench so both she and the bairn could watch as Evelinde bent over her porridge. “I’m surprised there’s no’ more hands willing to hold the wee angel.”

“Och, I cannae complain. I have four sisters-in-law and dozens of women who love him as their own. But Fiona’s no’ here, and Skye and Merewyn are in the village. Lara is here, see?” She pointed with the spoon. “But she’s helping her mother this morning.”

Katlyn glanced around, enjoying the bustle of the castle this early. Despite knowing she might regret asking, she ventured, “And ye dinnae mind someone like me holding him?”

“Why would I— Oh.” Evelinde hummed slightly as she glanced at Katlyn, then spun around to pull an apple from her other son’s hand. “Ye finish yer porridge first, then ye can have an apple.”

The lad sighed. “Half my porridge, then half the apple?”

“All of the porridge, then all of the apple,” his mother returned the negotiations. “But I’ll allow ye a dash of