Chapter Twenty

Esmerelda's words struck a nerve so deep that Alasdair could not rid himself of the ache in his chest or the fear that his mother-in-law's words would come true and he'd forget Mariot. That was something he could not allow. He could not speak to Sorcha of it, because to speak to her, he needed to be able to offer explanations he did not yet have. And he did not speak to Esmerelda of what she'd said and how she'd aided him, whether knowingly or not, in dwelling in his grief because he wanted to be certain he could refute her claim that he had forgotten Mariot by allowing time to pass and proving to himself that he would not. Nor did he speak to her of the misplaced disgust he'd seen on her face when she discovered him kissing Sorcha. That, he suspected, was more about her and her fears than him and Sorcha, but he would speak to her eventually.

So, as one day led to two, then to three and four, he chose to live in a new routine that included spending time with Sorcha and a great deal of time with his children as well as attending to his duties as laird. He sensed a slight withdrawal from Sorcha at first, and he understood it because he felt it in himself as well. He wasn't certain how to overcome it, though, until the fourth night.

"Da, can we please have dancing in the great hall?" Beatie asked from her seat to the left of him at the dais.

"Aye," he answered quickly, grasping at the chance to draw Sorcha close as well as test his own capacity to live in the present without forgetting the past. He sensed Esmerelda scowling at him from her seat, and a quick glance to his right proved he was correct. Sorcha, who sat to his immediate right, had her head tilted down as she pushed her food from one side of her trencher to the other. Regret assailed him that she was uncomfortable. He knew he was partly to blame, and he was hoping he could set it right. "We can have dancing," he continued, "if Sorcha will agree to dance with me."

Sorcha glanced up, a beaming smile on her face, and locked gazes with him. He could feel whatever tension had been between them melting away. "I'd love to dance with ye... after ye dance with Beatie."

Beatie jumped up squealing with delight and clapped her hands. Alasdair grinned and leaned over to whisper in Sorcha's ear. "How did ye ken she wanted to dance with me?"

"Oh," she said, her warm breath wafting over his neck and sparking the hot bolt of desire that she always did, "a lass can sense what another lass wants, especially one who is staring adoringly at her da."

He turned then to look at her, and Sorcha turned to face him at the same time so that their noses brushed. "I need ye," he blurted because he was certain of it now.

Her eyes widened, and she nodded. "I need ye, too," she whispered.

"Da, da," Beatie said, tapping on his shoulder. "Can we tell them to clear the floor for dancing?"

He nodded, forced himself to break his gaze with Sorcha, and stood. "Tonight, we dance in celebration of our guest, Lady Sorcha."

The cheers that erupted were so deafening that the walls of the great hall seemed to vibrate, and soon Alasdair was on the dance floor swinging a laughing Beatie around, while beside him, Hew was doing to his best to trample all over Sorcha's toes. Sorcha was grinning, not showing even a hint of displeasure.

He watched them for a moment, his son laughing and Sorcha grinning, staring adoringly down at Hew, and he knew Mariot would be pleased to see someone care for Hew and Beatie and bring a gentleness to their lives, a tender touch that only a woman could offer. And as he danced with Beatie, he recalled moments dancing with Mariot.

"Da, was Mama a good dancer?"

"Aye," he said, looking down at her. He finished the dance, then sought Sorcha out, whom Hew had commandeered into the next dance.

"Might I cut in?" he politely asked his son.

Hew stopped his trampling on Sorcha's toes and looked from her to Alasdair. "If it is all right with Sorcha."

"Well," she said, "I'm certain yer da kinnae dance near as well as ye, but I did vow it to him. And what did I tell ye a moment ago?"

Hew scowled. "One should always keep their vows."

Sorcha nodded. "Now off ye go because ye vowed to yer sister ye would dance with her as well."

"I only said it because she bugged me."

"Aye," Sorcha replied, understanding in her voice, "but ye did say it."

"Oh, all right!" Hew grumbled, then turned away to find Beatie.

Alasdair took Sorcha's hands to begin the steps of the dance, and as they moved, he said, "Thank ye."

"For what?" Sorcha asked.

"For treating my children with kindness and for nae telling Hew he was smashing yer feet," he teased.

She chuckled at that. "He means well. But he needs to be taught how to dance properly."

"Could ye teach him?" Alasdair asked, because he selfishly wanted to watch those lessons.

"Aye," she said. "It usually takes a bit of time, but I'll do my best with the time I'm here."

"What if ye did nae leave?" he asked, stopping and drawing her away from the other dancers to the side of the room.

"What do ye mean?" she asked, frowning.

It was a good, fair question, and he was not yet entirely certain of the answer. "What if ye stayed as part of my clan?"

"What of the coin ye need for my return?"

"I'd figure out something else."

She nodded slowly, though she didn't look entirely convinced. "And what would I do if I stayed?" she asked gently.

"Ye could be the healer," he said, offering the first, the easiest thing that came to mind.

He thought he saw her shoulders drop a bit, but she offered a small smile. "When ye first met me, that would have been an offer I jumped at," she said.

"But now?" he said, hearing her hesitation.

"Ye awoke a yearning in me that I had silenced out of fear, and I am no longer willing to live in fear. I am ready," she said, "to let go of the fear that no longer serves me."

He smiled that she recalled what he'd said to her before, even as disappointment crashed over him. "Ye wish to meet yer betrothed and see if he is a good man?"

She slowly licked her lips before she spoke. "I wish," she said, "I wish to find the sort of love ye have for yer wife."

It was not lost on him that she said have and not had, and he appreciated it to the depths of his soul. He thought that she was hinting she wished to find it with him, and though she had awakened desire in him and the longing to have a woman—specifically her—in his life once more, he wasn't certain he could love again the way he'd loved Mariot.

He opened his mouth to say what he'd been thinking, but she pressed a finger to his lips. "'Tis all right. Ye dunnae have to speak it. I can see it here," she said and touched his face.

"Sorcha," he said, realizing she saw his uncertainty.

"I'm tired," she replied. "I think I'll make my way to bed."

"I dunnae want to hurt ye," he said, meaning it.

"'Tis all right. I told ye, I'd rather take chances now and feel the warmth of living life than dwell in coldness."

"Do ye wish me to walk ye to yer bedchamber?"

She shook her head. "Nay. I'd prefer a bit of time alone."

"Fine, but I will watch from a distance to ensure ye get there safely."

She didn't argue. She didn't even acknowledge what he'd said. She turned away from him and made her way out of the great hall. He followed from a distance, through the passageways, up the stairs, and to the corner of the second-floor hallway. He stood there until her bedchamber door closed, and then he turned and made his way to his own bedchamber.

He spent the better part of the night staring at the ceiling, wondering how he could know if he might possibly be able to open himself up enough to love the way he once had. Sorcha deserved no less, so he made up his mind that he would keep a distance until he thought he might be able to give her what she wanted, what she deserved. Keeping his distance was achievable, but not watching her, even from a distance, was impossible. He found himself staring at her every morning from his solar as she worked with Hew and Beatie, practicing archery in the courtyard. And when he came in from training every afternoon for the nooning meal, he found himself conveniently walking by the healing room where he could see Sorcha teaching Beatie the healing arts, and he found himself watching her with utter fascination as she danced in the great hall every night with Hew and with other clansmen. After a sennight of keeping his distance, he awoke in the foulest mood, and it was his son who gave him the opportunity he had not realized he was waiting for.

He went to the great hall to break his fast, and Hew was there gathering food onto a trencher. "Where are ye going?" he asked, but he already knew because Hew, Beatie, and Sorcha were in the courtyard training every morning and breaking their fast there.

"To Sorcha and Beatie," Hew said in a cheerful voice.

"Do ye need help with the trencher?" he asked his son, who looked as if he would drop the food-laden trencher at any moment.

"Nay, I've got it."

"I insist," Alasdair said, telling himself it was only because he knew Hew was going to drop it. But the moment they entered the courtyard and Sorcha looked up from what she was doing with a grin on her face, his heart jerked in his chest and he knew he'd made an excuse just to be near her once again.

"Hew, dunnae tell me ye dragged yer da to the courtyard because ye could nae carry one wee tray of food?" Sorcha called out to them.

"Nay!" Hew responded, despite Alasdair trying to silence him with a warning look. "Da insisted."

Sorcha's eyebrows shot up, but she simply nodded. "Well, ye can set the tray there then," she said, motioning to a log.

He did as she asked, but then he stayed, not wanting to leave them, and he watched as she instructed Hew first and then Beatie.

"What do ye think, Da?" Beatie asked after shooting at the target.

"'Ye've made fine progress, but there are a few things that need improvement."

"Like what?" Sorcha demanded, sounding incensed.

"Well," he moved close, eager for the chance to be nearer to her. "Ye have taught her well how to keep her attention focused, but ye could all three work on the strength of yer arms, which would make yer shots go farther and faster."

Sorcha pressed her lips together as her gaze fell to his arms. "We are nae all built as ye are," she said dryly.

"I'll be strong like Da one day," Hew piped up.

"I want to be stronger than Da!" Beatie said. "Sorcha, dunnae ye want to be stronger?"

When she did not answer but looked wary, he could not help but prod her, because if she took up Beatie's challenge, he realized he had a perfectly good reason to see her every morning. "Aye, Sorcha," he said, instilling a teasing note to his voice. "Do ye nae think ye can get stronger?"

"Aye, but—"

"Excellent!" He didn't want to give her the chance to back out. "We shall meet here every morning to do our exercises."

"What are they, Da?" Beatie asked, hopping up and down.

"Watch me," he replied, and then he set his palms on the ground and his feet out behind him so that his body was parallel to the ground. "Once ye are in this position, ye simply lower yerself at the elbows almost until yer belly touches the ground."

The children immediately got into position, but Sorcha gave him an incredulous look. "I kinnae do that!" she exclaimed.

"Well, ye certainly kinnae if ye dunnae even try," he shot back.

"I mean," she huffed, "I dunnae think my arms will hold my weight thusly."

"I'll hold ye at yer belly and aid ye in lowering ye," he suggested, and when she still looked at him with a dubious expression, he added, "unless ye are scairt."

"I'm nae scairt!" she snapped and got into the parallel position he had shown them. Both Hew and Beatie had attempted the arm-strengthening exercise only to flop on their bellies in fits of giggles.

Sorcha scowled between him and the children as her face turned red from the position she was holding. "I'm glad this is so amusing for the three of ye," she grumbled.

"Ye must try, Sorcha!" Hew said as he attempted it again, this time with success.

"Aye!" Beatie agreed as she tried it again and failed.

Sorcha tried it alone the first time, and he could see the strain by the bulging veins in her neck and the redness of her face. She fell on her belly with a smack against the ground, to her chagrin, Hew's delight, and Beatie's coos of encouragement.

He started to reach for her, but she shrugged him off, and as she jutted her jaw, he knew determination had blossomed within her. She tried thrice more, failing each time alongside Beatie's failed attempts, and Hew, grinning, lowered himself and pushed himself up. "Boys are stronger," he pronounced, making Alasdair wince.

"Well, lasses are cleverer with herbs," Beatie shot back.

"Prove it!" Hew responded.

"I will!" Beatie announced, jumped up and then started tugging Sorcha up. "Come, Sorcha! We must show them how much cleverer we are with herbs."

Groaning, Sorcha lumbered up, shot a scowl at Alasdair, and then laughed as Beatie dragged her off toward the healing room.

"Da, we kinnae let them think they are smarter than us," Hew said, jumping up. "Come on!" he added, running away before Alasdair had even gained his feet. Once he was up and walking toward the healing room, he realized his mood was much lighter than when he awoke. It was being with Beatie, Hew, and Sorcha. He knew it without a doubt; what he still didn't know was if he could love again in the way he had.

The children were already arguing by the time he reached the healing room, and yet, there was still a happy lightness to the interaction. Hew and Beatie stood on one side of the table as Sorcha stood on the other, showing them how to dress a wound with lint. They each tried it, and Beatie, who had been in the healing room with Sorcha almost daily, did a better job, but when Sorcha showed them how to grind a paste, Alasdair pronounced himself the winner.

"The only way to ken the winner is to put the paste on a pretend patient," Sorcha announced, "and whichever one stays put the best is the winner."

Alasdair didn't hesitate. He sunk his fingers into his cold sticky paste and wiped them across Sorcha's lovely cheek. She gasped at him as the children broke out into fits of giggles. "Ye're cut on yer cheek," he announced.

Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she brought her own fingers, covered in paste, to his forehead and wiped the cold, sticky mixture across it. "Ye're cut on yer forehead," she said.

Hew treated Beatie on her arm, and Beatie treated Hew on his leg. "Now," Sorcha pronounced, "we must all jump around to see whose paste will stay put the best. And as they did, Beatie's and Hew's pastes crumbled away, and then went Alasdair's. Sorcha threw her arms up with an exclamation of joy, and Beatie threw herself into Sorcha to hug her, which sent Sorcha stumbling into Hew, who knocked all three of them into Alasdair. They all went flying to the ground in a crumbled heap of laughter.

He could not recall the last time he'd laughed so hard. He chortled until his eyes watered and his belly ached. And finally, when the noon horn was blown, he managed to get himself under control, as did everyone else, and one by one they stood and made their way out to go to the great hall. Beatie and Hew skipped ahead of Sorcha and himself, and he let them, glad to be alone with her.

"Ye have wonderful children," Sorcha said with a husky whisper.

He stopped, grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her close before putting a quick peck upon her lips. The desire had been uncontrollable, but he didn't want the children to see and get their hopes up. "Ye are wonderful, Sorcha."

She smiled, but he noted it did not reach her eyes as before. It was the lingering question, he understood, of whether he could love with the depth she deserved and needed. Instead of offering stumbling words when he did not yet have the answer he sought, he said, "Would it be acceptable to ye, if I met the three of ye in the courtyard in the morning to train ye again?"

"Aye, but only if ye also come here afterward. If ye're going to trounce me out there—" she said, waving her hand toward the courtyard, "I wish to return the favor in here."

"Gladly," he replied, meaning it, and then, as they started to walk again toward the great hall, their hands brushed, and instinctively, he caught her hand and held it.

She didn't pull away but allowed him to hold her hand until they got to the great hall door, when she tugged away with a smile, and said, "I'd nae want the children to be confused if—"

"Aye," he agreed, not wanting to hear the possibility of leaving in her voice.

They entered the great hall, but he was immediately swept into clan commotion, and it took him a great while to even reach the dais. She was seated at the far end, well away from his chair, and he was left to sit with Esmerelda on one side of him and Beatie, who was talking animatedly to Hew and Sorcha, on the other.

"Ye like her," Esmerelda said, surprising him not only by saying the words but by the note of kindness in her voice, which contradicted how she'd acted before.

He faced Mariot's mother. "I do," he said, deciding it was time to speak blunt truths. "I have lived too long in grief, Esmerelda."

He expected her to argue, but she nodded. "Aye, and I'm sorry for my part in it." It was his turn to nod. "I was in my own grief, and I suppose I took some measure of comfort having ye there with me."

"'Tis nae good for the children," he said. "They are happier than they have been in a long time."

"Nay, 'tis nae good for the children," she agreed. "They need a mama, nae just a grandmama."

He nodded, not caring to voice the rest of his concern. That he could not give them a mother if he could not love wholeheartedly again. "They have me now, and I am present. I see them, and I want to be with them."

"Aye, of course, but when ye kinnae be, they need someone."

He would not argue the point with her, and he wasn't about to give her a reason to stay. She may be showing remorse now, but he still believed it was time for her to return to her son's stronghold. "I imagine yer son and his wife are wanting ye home now to aid in raising yer other grandbairns."

"Oh, I think they are getting along just fine without me," she said.

He sighed. She was not going to make this easy. "Esmerelda—"

"Da!" Beatie said.

He looked to his left to see her standing there with Hew. "Aye?"

"Can we go dance?"

"Aye. I'll join ye," he said. The talk with Esmerelda could wait until tomorrow. Plus, he wanted more time with Sorcha. But when he stood, he didn't see her. "Where is Sorcha?"

"She went to bed," Beatie supplied. "She said she was exhausted from all the arm work ye made us do."

He hoped it was that, and as he made his way to the dance floor with the children, he found himself thinking of her and all the ways she had already changed his life and the children's. As they danced, he missed seeing her smile and hearing her laughter, and the simple touches the dance allowed. He made up his mind by the end of the night to ask her in the morning to stay a bit longer, if Calan returned soon, so there would be more time for him to untangle the knots his grief had created.

He saw the children to their bedchambers after a story and then made his way to his own, and he was just about to lie down when a knock came at his door. The head of the tower guard stood on the threshold. "Aye?" he asked Geoffrey.

"I'm sorry to bother ye at the late hour, Laird, but riders are approaching, and I thought ye would want to ken."

"Aye, I do," Alasdair said, picking up the weapons he'd just unsheathed and setting them back in place. "Are they flying banners?"

"Aye, one is ours, one is the Stewart clan, and one is the Campbell clan."

His chest clenched tight, and a wave of nearly consuming anxiety swept through him, giving him the answer he'd been searching for. He could love wholeheartedly again. He just prayed it was not too late with Sorcha.