Gavin was a wonderful father. Eamon had insisted on him taking as much time as he wanted off from guarding the walls. The castle was in the midst of the longest period of peace they’d ever experienced — the relationship with Lord Weatherby was so good now that there was almost no need for military support. There had been so much tension, so much uneasiness — but they’d proven, once and for all, that they were good allies and trustworthy people, and Weatherby had responded in kind.
Whether Willows had made it back to the Vatican to spread word of what had happened was anyone’s guess — the man had ridden away in disgrace, and nobody had seen hide nor hair of him since. And a good thing, too. His two lackeys had also survived, to Delilah’s displeasure — but they’d gone separate ways, and rather quickly, too. It seemed the murderer (who now bore an ugly burn scar on his neck) had a few warrants out for his arrest in this part of the country. As for Octavian, his shattered hand meant he could no longer ply his hideous trade, and he too had disappeared from their lands.
Delilah put her hands on her hips now, moving across the room to the crib where her daughter lay, gurgling happily at the ceiling. They’d hung an ornamental mobile of toys above the baby, and it was spinning gently, Emily’s eyes fixed on each toy as it rotated past her eyes. It was a beautiful, peaceful sight, and Delilah couldn’t help but smile despite her exasperation. She turned, hearing a gentle tap on the door — and there stood Marianne, resplendent in a long green gown, beaming.
“How’s the little troublemaker doing?”
“Just fine,” Delilah cooed, lifting the baby gently from her crib and holding her against her chest. “Two months old today and growing like a weed.” As if offended by this, Emily wiggled in Delilah’s arms and made a disdainful sound — it drew a laugh from Marianne, who moved across to waggle her fingers in front of the baby’s eyes.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll be up and about in no time,” she said gently, grinning. “Once she’s walking you’ll be amazed how quick those little legs can go.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Have there been any more… activities?” Marianne wiggled her eyebrows.
Delilah rolled her eyes.
“Yes. I mean, I think so. It’s hard to tell — Gavin moves things sometimes, and the place can be a mess anyway, but I’m almost certain…”
“You’re sure it’s not you?”
“For the last time, Marianne, I’ve got no power at all. Whatever Morag could do, I’ve got none of it. But this one…” She jiggled Emily in her arms, but the baby was recalcitrant, wiggling furiously. Marianne put her arms out and Delilah gave her the baby — Emily cooed in triumph, settling into Marianne’s arms. The witch beamed down at her, gently stroking a small lock of soft, dark hair into place behind her ear.
“Such lovely hair already,” she said softly. “Who’s my little apprentice? It’s you!”
“We don’t know for certain she’s moving things,” Emily said, hands on her hips. “I might just have mommy brain, you know how it is.”
Emily’s green eyes closed for a moment — then opened. And at the same time, Marianne and Emily both stared as the mobile above her crib — which had fallen still — began to spin gently, as though in a light breeze.
“Did you feel a wind?” Marianne asked Delilah softly, not taking her eyes off the mobile.
Emily gurgled happily, reaching out with one chubby fist toward the mobile — and as if in response, it spun again, faster this time. Marianne gasped — then crowed triumphantly, lifting Emily up in her arms and startling a laugh from the baby.
“I can’t believe it,” Delilah said softly, staring at her daughter. “She did that. She definitely did that. All the doors and windows are shut…”
“Who’s my favourite witch! You are!” Marianne was rocking the baby back and forth, laughing, and Emily was waving her hands happily with the motion. “Delilah, this is amazing, she’s a natural —”
“What if the hunters come back?” Delilah said softly, staring at her daughter with worry gripping her heart.
“Then we’ll deal with them the same way we dealt with ‘em before,” came a gruff voice from the doorway.
Delilah spun to see Gavin standing in the doorway, a plate of food in his hands — he’d gone to the Hall to collect lunch from them both. She hadn’t mentioned her concerns about Emily’s apparent powers to her husband. She was worried old memories would be stirred up — that he’d be worried or frightened about history repeating itself, about his daughter falling into the same traps as his lost love Morag.
But all he did was stride across the room, putting the plate of food down and taking Emily from Marianne, who took a few steps back, clearly unsure of whether this was a problematic situation or not. He held the baby to his chest, shutting his eyes for a moment as he inhaled the sweet scent of her hair, then looked down at Delilah and Marianne with an unexpected smile playing around his face.
“So you’ve taught my daughter witchcraft already? Two months old, that’s got to be some sort of record.”
“Talent can’t be taught,” Marianne said, grinning back.
“She can move her toys around without touching them,” Delilah explained, still worried that Gavin was going to be concerned — but all he did was laugh, jiggling the baby comfortingly.
“Aye, I know. She did it the night she was born, love. When you were sleeping. Pulled my glove right off the table.”
Delilah stared up at him. “You’re not — worried?”
“Why would I be?”
“That our daughter — she’s a witch, Gavin!” Delilah glanced toward the door to the courtyard as she said it. “What if someone finds out? What if —”
“Delilah, there’s no place safer in this entire country for a witch than between these four walls,” Gavin said firmly. “You women are living proof of that. And I’ll personally lose my head before I let any harm befall any one of you, or my daughter. All the rumors say Clan MacClaran is home to witches. It’s God’s own truth, and I’ll die defending you. All seven of you,” he added, looking down at Emily.
“Thank you,” Delilah whispered, her heart full of love.
“She’ll need a teacher, mind,” he said. “Can’t be having her hiding all our things in the middle of the night. Discipline and structure, that’s the way. And I’ll want to teach her to fight with a sword, too. Magic’s all very well, but you can’t go past a good sword for self-defense.”
“You’re going to be busy, little one,” Marianne told the baby, her eyes glowing.
Delilah sat back as her husband and her best friend set about discussing her daughter’s future. How had she gotten here? After all the strange adventures her life had taken her on, here she was — sitting in a medieval Scottish castle, talking about her infant daughter’s witchcraft with a phone psychic from San Francisco and a fifteenth-century Scottish soldier.
Delilah smiled. She wouldn’t change a single thing about her wonderful, ridiculous, blessed life.
* * *
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About Rebecca Preston
Rebecca lives in New York City with her dog. She loves sweet love stories with great characters. She loves traveling the world and experiencing new cities and cultures. Jane Austen is her favorite author.
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Also by Rebecca Preston
Highlander Of Time Series
Highlander Found - Book 1
Highlander Warrior - Book 2
Highlander Protected - Book 3
Highlander Smitten - Book 4
Highlander Fallen - Book 5
Highlander Cursed - Book 6
Jane Austen Fan Fiction
Arranged To Darcy
A Convenient Darcy Marriage
Married To Darcy
Elizabeth And Darcy
Preston, Rebecca, Highlander Cursed: A Scottish Time Travel Romance
Highlander Cursed: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 26