Chapter Sixteen

The great hall was teeming with conversation and laughter, and Alasdair had a trencher of hot food and a full goblet of full wine before him. His children were sitting where he could see them at the end of the dais, well and hearty, but he had the sensation that something was missing. The minute the great hall door opened and Sorcha glided inside, his gut clenched, and he realized what he missed. It made his entire body go stiff. He'd already been hopelessly attached to a woman once in his lifetime, and he was still reeling from the loss of her.

The closer Sorcha came, the more his chest tightened and his gut knotted, so that he finally reached for his goblet of wine and downed the contents to settle his unease. The chatter among his clan seemed to grow, and he imagined they were talking of Sorcha. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in red, glistening waves, and the gown she wore fit her curves to perfection. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her as she drew near, and when she was almost to the dais and he could clearly see the details of the gown she donned, and it was like a hit to his gut.

He turned to Esmerelda, who sat to his left, and snapped, "Esmerelda."

She stopped the conversation she was having and looked to him. "Aye, Alasdair?"

Just then, Sorcha reached the dais, and though he didn't want to make her uncomfortable, he had to say something. "Why in God's name did ye give Sorcha Mariot's wedding gown to wear?"

"I did nae think it would matter to ye. Ye seem over yer grief," she said, giving him a long, pointed look that irritated him so greatly the blood in his veins grew hot.

"My grief has nae magically disappeared, Esmerelda."

"I can go change," came Sorcha's voice from in front of him.

He looked to her and winced at the concern and the flush of embarrassment on her face. He should not have said anything, but he was so surprised by her appearance in Mariot's wedding gown. "'Tis fine," he said, but even to him, his words sounded choked.

"I insist," Sorcha replied. "This gown is much too fine for me anyway. It is clearly to be worn by a great lady, as yer wife was."

Her words underlaid what he'd seen in all her actions: a generosity of spirit and of heart. Mariot would have loved Sorcha, he realized with sudden clarity.

"Papa," Beatie said to the right of him. He glanced at his daughter, who looked from him to Sorcha and back. She blinked her big green eyes and smiled tentatively. "The gown Lady Sorcha wore here is the finest one she owns. Mayhap she wants that one back?"

He thought of the tattered gown Sorcha had been wearing and the shoes that barely protected her feet, and he shook his head. He caught and held Sorcha's gaze. "Mariot would have been thrilled to give ye her finest gown to wear," he said quietly. "She had a very generous heart, just as ye do."

Sorcha smiled shyly at him. "Ye're certain?"

"Aye, more than certain. 'Tis time to change a few things around here," he said, stealing a glance at Esmerelda and finding a disgruntled look upon her face. He suspected she'd meant to stir trouble, but he was uncertain why. Did she fear he'd forget Mariot? Or replace her with Sorcha? He needed to find a private moment to talk with her and soon.

"Papa, can Lady Sorcha sit by me?" Beatie asked with a hopeful expression.

"The dais is for family and honored guests only," Esmerelda said in a scolding tone, angering Alasdair.

He clenched his teeth together to keep from snapping the woman's head off. He would speak with her first thing on the morrow, if not tonight. "Sorcha is an honored guest," he said, quickly rising and maneuvering out of his seat to descend the dais. He was aware of many eyes upon him, from his children to Esmerelda to members of his clan, but he was driven by the need to make Sorcha feel comfortable when he suspected how unwanted she'd felt much of her life.

He held his hand out to her. "My lady, allow me to assist ye to yer seat."

She blinked in clear surprise and the loveliest shade of pink stole over her cheeks, making him very glad he'd followed his gut. She placed her small hand in his, and he closed his fingers over her delicate bones. That same spot in his chest that had felt like it loosened before, like it had opened just a bit, did so again. He led her to the dais, intending to sit her on the other side of Beatie, but Beatie jumped up at they approached.

Grinning, she said, "Ye can have my seat so ye can sit by my da."

By the worshipful way his daughter was looking at Sorcha, he suspected his sweet lass was hoping she might stay around. It occurred to him that he had done a poor job indeed of talking to his children about their mother since her death, but talking of Mariot made his throat swell.

"That's so sweet of ye, Beatie, but I am positive yer da would want to sit by ye."

Beatie shook her head. "Nay. I dunnae usually get to sit beside him upon the dais because Grandmama says I chatter too much and that it irritates Da." Alasdair looked at Esmerelda as his irritation heated up once more. He noted the frown Sorcha directed her way, too. "I only got to sit by Da tonight because I disobeyed my order to wait in my bedchamber for Grandmama to fetch me for supper because, well—" the lass looked at him with eyes full of worry "—I missed ye, Da. I'm sorry!"

He released Sorcha's hand and bent down so he was face to face with his sweet daughter, who looked so much like her mama it was sometimes painful to gaze upon her, but tonight, he found it surprisingly comforting. Why had he not understood before that he'd never forget what Mariot looked like because Beatie was her exact image? He hugged his daughter to him. "I'd be honored to have ye sit by me this night and all others, Beatie."

Her gaze popped wide. "Really, Da?"

"Aye," he said, "and dunnae ever let anyone tell ye different," he added pointedly and in a loud enough tone that he knew Esmerelda could hear it.

When all three of them were seated, he resumed his meal. As Sorcha started hers, he found himself thinking of how she had responded to Beatie's request. She'd been generous and quick to make sure the lass understood her worth, and he greatly appreciated and admired that.

He looked to her, as she was easily seen over Beatie's head, and she met his gaze. She quirked her eyebrows up at him and offered a warm smile. For a lass who had not so much as even owned a decent gown and slippers, she exuded warmth and happiness. Admiration tugged hard, along with curiosity. What else had she never had or experienced? As he pondered the question, one of the serving girls appeared with a platter of custards and set one down in front of each of them.

Sorcha frowned at hers. "What's this?"

"'Tis custard," Beatie responded. "Have ye nae ever had custard?"

Sorcha shook her head.

"What sort of things did ye eat for dessert at yer home?" Alasdair asked.

"Oh, we did nae eat desserts. There was rarely enough coin in the coffer for food, let alone luxuries." She shrugged. "Or that's what my da always said, though I would nae think a dessert would be verra expensive to create."

"'Tis nae," he said, because she was looking at him expectantly and he felt compelled to answer. "Because if it were, we'd nae be having it." He didn't think he needed to say more for her to understand, since she knew the state of his own clan's coffers.

She nodded and pressed her lips together for a moment, then let out a disgruntled sigh. "Well, 'tis nae a surprise given the amount of coin he needs for all the mead and wine he drinks."

"Try the custard!" Hew urged from the other side of Alasdair.

Sorcha smiled indulgently at the lad, and that generous smile made Alasdair's heart twinge. She tasted the custard and gasped, and he found himself delighted to see her pleasure. Apparently Hew and Beatie enjoyed her happiness as well, because they both began to giggle and clap. "It's delicious!" she said with what seemed to him to be genuine enthusiasm. "What's in—"

"My favorite dessert is fruit and nuts," Hew hollered.

"Mine is sweet meats," Beatie sang out.

Joy flooded Alasdair so unexpectedly he jerked at the warmth in his chest. He could not recall the last time he'd felt this happy or seen his children this engaged.

"Both of ye apologize this instant for interrupting!" Esmerelda snapped, bringing Hew and Beatie to instant silence, and Alasdair to stunned silence as well. "What have I told ye?" Esmerelda demanded.

Alasdair would have said something in that moment to get her to stop chiding the children, but he needed to know exactly what she'd told them. He was seeing more and more that she was likely not the best choice to rear his bairns.

"Only speak when spoken to," Hew and Beatie responded at the same time and in twin whispers.

White-hot anger flowed through Alasdair, and he opened his mouth to correct the mess unfolding, but Sorcha spoke, drawing his attention to her face. Her eyes danced with dangerous ire, and she had the force of it focused on Esmerelda. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," she snapped. "Beatie and Hew—" Sorcha looked to his children "neither of ye need to wait for me to speak to ye to talk."

"Ye are nae their mama," Esmerelda ground out.

"'Tis true," Alasdair said, "but neither are ye." He didn't experience even a twinge of remorse for his harsh words after how she'd spoken to Hew and Beatie and what she'd told them. "But I am their da," he continued in a ruthless tone, "and my children dunnae have to wait to be spoken to before they speak. Dunnae tell them as much again, Esmerelda."

Anger simmered as he stared at her, but some of it was anger at himself. What sort of father was he that he hadn't even known his children's favorite desserts? He was the sort of father who'd put a wall between them, and he suddenly wanted to rip it down. But there was another part of him that feared if he fully opened his heart to them, he'd never recover if he lost one of them as he had their mother.

"I'm sorry, Alasdair." Esmerelda sounded so genuine and so miserable, and she looked it too, that he did then feel guilt for his harshness. She was dealing with her own sort of guilt, and she had been a tremendous help after Mariot had died, and he needed to remember that. "I thought I was doing what would please ye," she said, her voice holding a wounded inflection. "'Tis how Mariot was raised by her da, and ye seemed to think she was just fine."

He had to clench his teeth against the pain that stabbed at his heart. He'd never known this about Mariot, but then again, why would he have? They'd not had the chance to discuss childrearing. Would they have fought about how to raise them?

"What are some of yer other favorite things?" Sorcha asked, looking at the children but not before her understanding gaze met his. Did she realize he was in pain? Lost in the past? Somehow, he thought she did, and he was very grateful she did not judge him for it. Lady Elspeth, for all her many claims that she didn't care if he could nae ever give her his heart, mentioned often how he should not dwell on his past.

"I like to skip stones in the water!" Hew said, and the pride in his voice made Alasdair smile.

"I like to shoot bow and arrow," Beatie said.

He blinked in surprise, and when he saw Esmerelda looking as if she might scold Beatie, he shook his head at her. "Who's been teaching ye to shoot a bow and arrow?" he asked, suspecting it was Calan.

"Calan," Beatie confirmed, then squinched her brow. "Where is he? He vowed to me that when he returned home, he'd continue my lessons.

"I'm certain he will," Alasdair assured his daughter. "He's off on a mission for me, but in the meantime, if ye wish it, I imagine Lady Sorcha would be happy to teach ye what she kens of the bow and arrow. She's the finest shot I've ever seen," he said, glancing to Sorcha. Her beaming smile made his gut clench.

She peered at him intently for a long moment, as if he was some strange creature she'd never encountered, and then she said, "Yer da is a far better shot that I am, and though I am happy to work with ye, ye would do well to get yer da to teach ye what he kens as well."

"Da?" Beatie asked, looking dubious. "Ye're too busy as laird of the clan, aye, Da?"

"Of course he is!" Esmerelda said.

How often had she done that since Mariot died? How often had she given him leeway to ignore his children or leave the rearing of them to her, and he'd willingly taken it? Not this time. This he could do for Beatie. "Nay," he said, "I'm nae too busy, Beatie. I'll teach ye."

"Da!" Beatie exclaimed, clapping her hands. "I'm so excited! Can we go out tomorrow?"

"Aye," he said, though truthfully, he did have a thousand things to tend to, considering he'd been gone. "I can go out for a short spell, but then I have to sit and hear the needs of the clansmen and women."

Beatie nodded her head so vigorously, her curls bounced against her shoulders. "Mayhap Lady Sorcha could stay after and teach me?"

"I'd be honored," Sorcha instantly.

He was surprised by the depth of feeling that gripped him at her kindness toward Beatie.

"I dunnae approve of a lass learning to shoot," Esmerelda grumbled.

"'Tis nae for ye to approve of," Alasdair said, trying to keep his tone gentle.

"Mariot would nae have done such a thing," Esmerelda said in a severe tone.

"Nay," he said, making his own tone just as strict, "she would nae have. Sorcha is nae Mariot. They are different women, with different likes, minds, and pasts, and that does nae make one better than the other, Esmerelda." The ferocity of his feelings surprised him, but now was not the time to examine it.

"I—Well, of course, Alasdair," Esmerelda said, her voice faint once more. He winced. He kept forgetting her own grief and how hard it had been for her and all she'd done. He needed to remember that while also laying down some rules for her while she was still here in his home. "'Tis time for the children to go to bed," she said, rising, and he found himself relieved that she would be leaving the dining hall.

"I dunnae want to go to bed!" Hew said.

"I dunnae want to, either," Beatie added.

"One of my favorite memories of my mama," Sorcha said to the children, "was when she would tell me a bedtime story."

"That sounds lovely!" Beatie said.

"We dunnae ever get a bedtime story," Hew added, to Alasdair's dismay.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sorcha frowning, and he could feel his own matching one. He'd assumed when Esmerelda put the children to bed, she spent time with them.

"Will ye put us to bed tonight, Lady Sorcha?" Beatie asked.

"Oh, aye, please!" Hew begged.

They need a mama.

The thought came from nowhere and shook him to his core. He could not replace Mariot. He owed her to never even try.

"I would love to, if yer Da is comfortable with it."

He met Sorcha's inquiring warm gaze, and he surprised himself when he nodded. Allowing the woman to tell his children a bedtime story was not replacing Mariot. It was one story, after all.

"Well, I guess I am just nae needed tonight!" Esmerelda huffed and shoved away from the table to stomp down the dais. He let her go, feeling relief as she did.

"I'm sorry, Alasdair. I did nae mean to cause trouble," Sorcha said.

"Ye did nae," he replied, taking up his newly filled goblet and drinking a long sip before responding. "It seems trouble has been brewing, and I just did nae realize it."