and discretion.
A mug of ale and a short conversation later, and Duncan headed to the cottage off the path. Along with the carved wooden toy, he also carried several game birds caught this day. A gift for Ciara and her mother.
He shifted on the horse as he realized how much planning he’d put into this supposed casual visit to the girl and her mother, but after that brief moment of doubt, Duncan continued down the path. Listening to the sounds around him, he did not hear the sounds of laughter that had greeted him previously. Nor did he hear any sounds of a struggle. Dismounting and tethering his horse to a tree, he walked toward the front of the cottage.
A glance and a listen told him that Ciara and Mara worked not in their garden. He strode over to the stone wall that surrounded it and peered into the enclosure. Examining it without the distraction of the women who cared for it, Duncan noticed that, though small in size, it was efficiently laid out and well-cared for. He recognized both some cooking and healing herbs that Jocelyn and her women used in Lairig Dubh, but there were many he did not. Still, the signs told him that the garden’s keeper was organized and dependable in its care.
Still hearing no sounds from the cottage, he returned to its door and knocked softly. When no reply came, he called out their names softly and still heard no response. He should have turned and walked away…and taken it as the sign he needed to tarry no longer in this interest. But, something made him stay, reach for the latch and open the door.
The cottage was small, but clean and dry. Several mats lay strewn over the packed dirt floor and a small palette was positioned in the farthest corner from the door. A cupboard and another trunk sat on the other wall. There was a small hearth in the far wall and, in the middle of the room, a small round table with two stools. Again, simple and efficient, in its contents and care. It was the few items on the table that made his chest tighten.
A child’s meager toys, made of sticks and cloth, sat in a pile there, as though waiting for their owner to return. One was a doll; another was a horse. Duncan smiled, knowing that the one inside his cloak would please the girl. And for some reason still to be deciphered, that pleased him.
Now, looking around the room, he acknowledged for the first time to himself, that this was what he wanted. No more traveling from one end of Scotland to the other on the clan’s business. No more always living and traveling in the middle of tension and danger and strife. His life had been and still was about peace at any price, but that did not mean he did not wish it to be different, with a wife, some children and lands to tend.
In his heart, Duncan the Peacemaker wanted to be nothing more than Duncan the Farmer.
Oh, Connor and Rurik would get a hearty laugh out of that. They would double over from laughing so hard at such a thought, but Duncan knew it for the truth it was. And now, standing here, in the quiet of this plain cottage, he believed it for the first time.
He was so caught up in contemplating his future that he never heard their approach. It was the girl’s gasp that drew him from his thoughts and made him realize he was an intruder here.
“My pardon,” he began, looking into the shocked eyes of the mother. “I was looking for you and thought you might be inside,” he explained.
Marian took Ciara’s hand, knowing that her daughter would run to him. The man had been the subject of her childish ramblings since his last visit here and now that he stood before them, Marian did not discount her daughter’s infatuation. His very size made her reluctant to enter the cottage, for he nearly touched the roof of it when he stood at his full height. It was Ciara’s other infatuation that saved her.
“Sir, can I see your horse?” her daughter asked.
A smile filled his face, once more softening his gaze and his eyes, as he nodded. But before he agreed aloud, he looked to her for permission. She was prepared for this, having thought through all sorts of scenarios after his last visit and knowing she must guide him into disinterest before it became dangerous.
Marian was prepared to wave off such an invita-tion…until she looked at her daughter’s face.
Never had she seen such an expression in Ciara’s eyes—wonderment and anticipation blended and practically shone like the sun there. Was it the attention of such a man that enthralled her daughter? Was it the simple interest in a lively animal? Or was there something else happening here? With a worried twisting in her stomach, she gave in without a word. All it took was a slight nod, and Ciara grabbed the Peacemaker’s hands and dragged him outside toward the horse.
Marian followed along, all but forgotten by both of them, or so she thought, until they reached the horse. Having seen it rear and rage, its docile stance now made her nervous. But, from the confident way that Ciara strode at Duncan’s side without hesitation, her daughter carried none of that fear. Although the horse raised its head and watched their approach, it stood still as they moved closer.
Duncan crouched down and whispered instructions to the girl before he took her to the horse’s side. She was as sure as anyone he’d seen in her manner around the animal and even the horse’s great size did not scare her off. He smiled and turned to her mother.
“With your permission, I would let her ride,” he said.
And he waited. He knew Mara was uncomfortable with even his presence, but he was counting on her desire to please her daughter to see this through.
“She is so small. I…” Mara shook her head. Though, if he could read her expression, she seemed less opposed to the idea and more fearful of it.
“Come,” he said, holding his hand out to her, “you get on first and place her in front of you.”
If he had thought her afraid, he’d been wrong. Duncan watched as the idea took hold within her and, in a second, he was no longer certain if she’d hesitated at all. Mara accepted his hand and stepped toward them.
She’d surprised her daughter as well, for the girl’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widened and then she uttered one word filled with such awe and appreciation and wonderment.
“Mama.”
Duncan left the horse tethered to the tree and stood by the saddle. He lifted his foot and placed it in the stirrup to give her something to leverage herself up. Surprising him with her ability, Mara stepped on his foot and climbed into the saddle. Patting the horse’s neck, she seemed as much at home on the animal as he might be. After a moment of adjusting her skirts around her, she held her arms out for her daughter.
And she smiled.
The corners of her mouth curved up and the whole countenance of her face changed. Her appearance brightened and he discovered another woman instead of the stern one he’d met. This one seemed younger than the other and there was a mischievous glimmer in her eyes that made him question his first, second and third appraisals of her.
“You have ridden?” Although a statement, it came out as a question.
“Aye, sir. But, it has been many years since then.”
Her body adapted to the horse’s shifting as though she were born to it, regardless of her claims. Duncan reached down and took Ciara up in his arms and then handed her to Mara, who settled the girl before her. Their heads bent together and they whispered words he could not hear, but could guess. He stood back and watched them for a few moments and the tightness in his chest returned.
Marian dared not meet his gaze, for
