“Any word on a family for them?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. The longer they stay. The harder it will be for them to go.” He clenched his jaw. “I want to do what’s best for them but—”
Gemma understood. Mostly. He was working his fingers to the bone and uncertain if he’d be successful. If he couldn’t care for himself and the people on his land how could he care for two more children who would require additional staff? Still, she could see they felt a connection to him already and if she wasn’t mistaken he cared for them as well.
It wasn’t her place to tell him that he should keep two children who weren’t his.
Who was she to tell anyone how to live his life? Stealing a horse and being forced to nanny children was the happiest she’d been in ages.
Chapter Six
Will had been avoiding them. Mostly Gemma because she started a riot in his body every time he was near her. The damn woman would have him on his knees in no time. The vixen he’d met the first day hadn’t resurfaced. Instead, she’d become this soft, caring beauty who touched him with sympathy and cared for the children in his home. This new version of Gemma was so much more dangerous. She was so tempting a man might forget that he didn’t have the means to care for a wife.
He turned over in bed, the sun hadn’t yet risen and he needed his rest.
He’d been skirting Fiona and Ewan too. They lit up every time he saw them and he could feel their attachment growing.
He hadn’t heard a word from the magistrate about a new family for them.
What would Stone do? Or Blair?
Find a home for them with one of his crofters? They seemed barely able to support themselves.
Start an upstanding orphanage that truly cared for children? He didn’t have the money.
Turning over again he let out a rumble of frustration.
That was when his door creaked open. “Mr. Sinclair?” Fiona called.
He sat up in bed. “What are ye doing in here?”
She stepped through the door. “I…” Fiona stepped closer. “I had a bad dream and Miss Gemma is asleep.”
He swung his legs over the bed. “What was yer dream abou—” but she threw herself into his arms before he could finish.
He wrapped her in a hug. “The nuns,” she whispered.
His eyes closed and a long breath left him. Then he lifted her against his chest. “It’s all right. Ye’re here now. Ye’re safe.”
She was silent for a minute and then she lifted her head. “I heard you and the man.”
Sick dread sat like a stone in his stomach. The man?
“You’re going to send us away.” Her little fingers gripped his shoulders.
He shook his head. “Fiona, I’m going to find you a good family. One that can care for you.”
Fiona gave a tentative nod as she scooted over to lay her head back on his chest. “We could stay with you,” she said softly. “We won’t be any trouble. I promise.”
His heart broke a little for her at the words. “Let’s talk about it later. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?” He tucked her under the covers and then grabbed his shirt and pants and tugged them on, then lay down on top of the blankets next to her.
She yawned and snuggled against his side. “I trust you,” she murmured as her eyes drifted closed.
Her features softened as she fell asleep. When she began to twitch, Will wrapped her in his blanket and carried her to the nursery. She looked so sweet and little, her pretty face that of an angel’s.
He’d see both Fiona and Ewan would have a good life. Of that, he was certain. Though he had no idea how he’d give them one, he’d find a way.
As he lowered her to her bed, he looked over to Ewan, his thumb tucked between his lips. Such a little babe still.
“Are they still asleep?”
Gemma. He turned and caught sight of her, her auburn hair loosely plaited as it fell over one shoulder, her night rail billowing about her. His breath caught in his chest. “Fiona had a bad dream. She came to my room.”
Gemma nodded as she reached down and touched the girl’s forehead. “Poor lamb. She’s been through so much.”
Will winced in response. “I’ll make sure to keep an eye on them even after they’ve gone.”
She reached out and touched his arm. “Why not just keep them?” Gemma asked. “They love you already.”
The touch made him ache. “I don’t have a wife. I’m gone from sun up to sun down. If I make a profit this year, I can hire more staff but what if I don’t?”
She stepped closer. “I could stay for longer. I don’t have much to go back to. Food and a warm bed are enough for me right now.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. Her words tempted him. Her proximity more so. Which was why he wasn’t certain that could ever work. Lord, he wanted this woman. “It’s a very generous offer.”
“I’m quite fond of them already and…” She cleared her throat. “I like being here.”
He opened his eyes again, and he stared down into hers. They were the color of new grass, a bright and vibrant green. “I’ll think on it.”
She grimaced. “I know it’s hard for you to trust me after what I’ve done. We can discuss it after I’ve had a chance to prove myself.”
That was true, he supposed, though he was tempted to admit it was his attraction to her that was the real issue. If he allowed her in his bed, he had a feeling that he’d lose all reserve where she was concerned. She could rob him blind. “If you’ll excuse me, Gemma, I need to get ready for the day. There’s a widow in one of the crofts with two small boys. She needs help getting her fields planted.”
Gemma’s eyes narrowed. “Do widows usually stay on leased land like that?”
He lifted one shoulder. “If I remove her, where would she go?”
Gemma’s face softened as her lips curled into a soft smile. “It’s a good thing you don’t farm sheep.”
“Why’s that?” he asked, straightening.
“You’d never be able to slaughter them.” She touched his hand. “It’s what I like best about you.”
She was wearing him down. He had the urge to pull her against his body and kiss her with all he had. “I’m not sure that’s really a compliment for a man.”
She shook her head. “I’ve seen a lot of hardness in this world. I like that you’re more—”
“Soft?” he rumbled raising a brow.
“You’re not soft. A soft man would not plow fields from sun up to sun down. But you are far more noble than any man I’ve ever met.”
He couldn’t help himself. He lifted his hand and touched her braid, allowing his fingers to caress her silky tresses. He began to say thank you but as he did, she stood on tiptoe and softly placed her lips against his. It was a light touch but it lit his insides on fire. “Gemma,” he ground out, trying to slow his breathing as she lowered herself back down.
“Thank you for showing me that the world can still be good.”
His fingers curled into fists as resisted the urge to crush her against his chest. Was that true? Or was she manipulating him again? “You’re welcome,” he answered and then he turned. He needed to go but he knew his thoughts would be on Gemma the rest of the day.
* * *
Gemma spent the morning thinking about Will. A man like that…she sighed. A man like that a woman should grab hold of and never let go.
Unfortunately for her, she may have ruined her chance before she’d even known it was worth taking. Not that he could be hers. Why was she even worried? She had already tried marriage, and it didn’t work for her. Will seemed invested in his current business, but what if he changed his mind or found different affairs that took him away from her for long periods of time?
“Why are you sighing?” Fiona asked.
She focused back in on the children. They’d had breakfast, completed a lesson, and were now playing in the nursery. “I think we should get out a bit,” Gemma said.
Fiona clapped. �
�That sounds wonderful.”
“Let’s go ask Mrs. Cleary and Mrs. Hammond if they’ve any errands that need running.”
Fiona jumped up from the floor as Gemma scooped up Ewan.
Mrs. Hammond had been delighted with the idea and had set them off to purchase a roast for the next night’s dinner.
As they walked, Gemma held Fiona’s hand and they sang. Hope filled her chest and bubbled along her veins as they made their way. She tried to remember the last time she’d been this happy.
They went to the butcher first and picked up the package of meat. Then, as they started home, they began walking down Main Street. Just ahead was the little sign for McLean’s office.
“We’ve one more stop to make,” she said to Fiona as she pulled the girl toward the office. She wanted to know what the magistrate had to say. She did. But rather than excitement, a dread filled her belly and bile rose in her throat as she stood under the sign. But that was silly. This was what she’d come all this way for.
“I’ve been here before,” Fiona said, looking up at the sign. “Did the man find us a new home?” Her little voice squeaked with worry.
“Nothing like that,” Gemma soothed. She understood Will’s hesitation about keeping the children but as she glanced down at Fiona, she tried to picture leaving the girl…letting her go. It made her ache inside. “Mr. McLean sent me a letter months ago that I need to ask him about.” She stroked Fiona’s cheek.
Fiona nodded and then licked her lips. “We’ll be good as gold. Can you tell Will that? We won’t cause any trouble.”
She grimaced as she bent to give Fiona a hug. “Of course you will be.” Then she straightened.
Opening the door, she walked into the office. She stood in a waiting room of sorts, with a few wooden chairs to sit in. Two doors stood side by side on the far wall but only one was open. A tall, thin man sat behind the desk. “May I help you?” he called as he raised his head.
“My name is Gemma McLaren. I’m here to see Mr. McLean.”
He stood coming to the door. “I’m Angus McLean. Please come in.” His eyes swept the children. “You must know our new laird.”
She gave a nod. “Mr. Sinclair has employed me as nanny while I am in the area.” She pointed to a chair, looking at the little girl. “Fiona stay here and watch Ewan. I’ll be right out.”
Once the children were situated, she stepped into Mr. McLaren’s office as he returned to his desk.
“I have to confess, Mrs. McLaren, I didn’t think you’d come.” He opened a drawer and began shuffling through papers. Then he pulled out a small stack along with two envelopes.
Gemma’s heart hammered in her chest. She still held the basket with the wrapped-up roast in her hand and she found herself clutching it tightly. Forcing her fingers to relax, she set the basket on the floor next to her then she folded her hands in her lap, her fingers tightly gripping together.
Opening the first envelope, Mr. McLean dumped the contents out on the table. Scattered before her was a pocket watch, a belt buckle, and a handful of coins. “These were on his person. By law, they should be returned to you.”
She stared at the items on the table and her blood turned to sludge, moved slowly, then slower still through her body. Was he jesting? Was this all her husband had to his name? “I’m sorry?”
Mr. McLaren didn’t look up as he shuffled through the papers. “The coroner would have just given them to Mary but he also found this.” Then he handed her the second envelope. On it, in Sean’s scratchy writing it said, To my wife, Gemma McLaren. Below it was their cottage address.
She swallowed, attempting not to vomit. “Why didn’t you just send these to me?” Gemma choked out. It had cost her far more than these items were worth just to get here. She’d given up her cottage and her livelihood to make the journey. She’d stolen Will’s horse, sure that she would get answers and some measure of security. Not a pocket watch.
He pulled out another sheet of paper. “Mary wanted the items if you didn’t claim them. And Sean had leased a croft. As you are his legal wife, you’ve first right to finish out his lease if you’re inclined.”
“Who is Mary? Were they married?” Tears pricked hot behind her eyes.
Mr. McLaren grimaced. “To my knowledge, yes. Sean lived here for over two years. Did you hear from him at all in that time?”
Gemma took a shaky breath. “I hadn’t received a letter from him in three. The first I heard of him was when yours arrived.”
The magistrate folded his hands in front of him. “Sean Junior is just over two.” He lowered his chin to give her a long stare, his mouth pinched closed.
“Any other children?” Her voice barely made it out of her chest.
“Fergus is ten months.” He cleared his throat. “He was born three days after Sean died.”
So many questions crowded her mind. How did he meet Mary? Were they married? Did he love Mary the way he’d never loved Gemma? “How did he die?”
“Farming accident,” Mr. McLaren said matter-of-factly. Then he cleared his throat again. The man’s fingers splayed out in his desk. “I can’t imagine what yer thinking but I know that Mary’s been through hell. If ye take the croft, ye’ll be putting her out along with her two young children.”
Gemma suddenly understood. Standing, she stared down at him. “You made me come all this way for Mary’s benefit. You were hoping I wouldn’t come at all and it would all go to her.”
He drew in a long breath. “What he did to both of you is wrong.” His mouth twisted. “But they are just babies. They’ll end up in a place like the orphanage that Fiona and Ewan came from if—”
Gemma’s insides twisted as anger bubbled inside of her. “Don’t lay that on my door,” she said, banging her hand on the desk, then she spun about. She needed to think. To clear her head.
She’d thought, foolishly, that she was finally going to get something out of her marriage. She should have known that the only thing Sean McLaren ever gave her was a broken heart.
Chapter Seven
Will swabbed his forehead with a rag. Despite the cold air, he was working up a sweat.
He’d spent the morning helping two other farmers plow the widow’s field. Tomorrow, they’d seed it. As long as it didn’t rain too hard in the next week, the field should grow. With enough profit, he could move Mary and her two boys to the large house to work and then rent the croft to someone more capable. But he refused to just toss them out.
Much like the little crew he’d assembled at home.
Touching his lips, he thought of the kiss that Gemma had given him this morning. He wanted to see her again. The more he thought on it, the more he needed to sit and talk with her. Ask her why she’d taken his things and what had led her here.
He supposed that part of him worried she wouldn’t tell the truth. Was she deceitful by nature? But another part wondered if she had just been desperate. If she deserved a chance to prove she was trustworthy.
It was time to find out.
He rode home and after leaving his horse in the stable, he entered the warm kitchen. It smelled of pie and stew. The sort of smells that made a home. Despite all the hard labor of the morning, his muscles twitched with energy. “Mrs. Hammond,” he called. “Where are Gemma and the children?”
“They went to the village.” Mrs. Hammond smiled as she looked up at him. “They’re getting a roast for tomorrow.”
Will sucked in his breath. She’d left with the children? He’d never told her that she couldn’t leave the premises. But still. That part of him that didn’t trust her reared to the surface. Would she leave? Take the children with her? Sell them to a slave trader? He ignored the voice that told him he was being ridiculous as he charged across the kitchen.
With a rumble, he shot back out the door and grabbed Hades. Jumping on the steed’s back he made the short journey into the village in record time. Jumping from the horse, he tried to calm his breathing. She had no money. Where might she have gone?
> He started down Main Street, when the squeaking of a sign caught his attention. McLean’s office.
Just then she stepped out holding Fiona’s hand with Ewan on her hip. She clutched several items to her chest.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he growled out.
She stopped, her wide eyes meeting his. “What?”
“Why do you have the children at the magistrate’s office?” he barked, grabbing Fiona’s other hand. “What are you planning?”
“Planning?” she repeated, her brow crinkling.
His gaze narrowed. “I am trying to decide if you are genuine or just trying to trick me again.”
A tear slid down her cheek as she pressed Ewan into his arms. She swiped at the tear. “I can’t have this conversation with you now.” Then she turned and started down the street in the opposite direction.
“Mrs. McLaren?” McLean called.
Will blinked. How long had the man been there? Had he just said Mrs.?
“Yes.” She turned back to them, wiping her cheeks with her palms.
McLean straightened, sucking in his breath before he lifted up his arm. “You forgot your basket.”
“It isn’t mine, it’s his.” Then she turned and walked away.
Will grabbed the basket and flipped open the lid. It was meat for Mrs. Hammond. If Gemma had been up to something nefarious she would not have run the cook’s errand. He squeezed his eyes shut. He was a fool.
Ewan pointed down the street. “Uh,” he said. Will turned to him. He realized the boy had never made a sound. “Uh, uh, uh.” He pointed at Gemma.
“You’re right, Ewan.” Will’s stomach sunk to his knees. “I’ve just made a terrible mistake and I think I should go apologize.”
“You should. What I just told that woman might sink the average person.” Mr. McLean said. “When you’re done, please come back. I’ve got something for you as well.”
Will gave the magistrate a tight nod but his eyes were following the sway of Gemma’s hips as she hurried away. Damn it all to hell. He couldn’t get a single thing right. “Gemma,” he yelled down the street. “Gemma wait.” She turned the corner and he looked down at Fiona. “Let’s run.”
Kilted Sin: Brethren of Stone Page 4