Page 75 of A Hellion for the Highland Hawk
It was a strange thing, to stand before a sunset and wonder if it would be the last one he ever saw, though it was an altogether more painful thing to look down at his daughter’s sleeping face and wonder if it would be the last time.
“She’s tryin’ to protect us, Freya,” he said softly, a sad smile on his lips. “And if I daenae make it tomorrow, I ken she’ll love ye as if ye were her own.”
He had never met a woman like Nancy, and though his heart fluttered at the thought of tonight, there was a heaviness at the thought of tomorrow.
He’d loathed his wedding to Rachel, a somber and miserable affair, where the poor woman had cried from beginning to end, between hard scowls. He wished he could look forward to thiswedding, but despite what he’d said to Nancy, the threat was weighing on him.
“I wish she could’ve been me first and only wife,” he told Freya. “Yer real maither. Ye didnae deserve to be born out of hate, and yer maither didnae deserve to be married to a man she hated. It would’ve saved us all a lot of pain if it were just Nancy from the start.”
The baby didn’t stir, snuffling softly in her sleep.
“I’ll fight for us tomorrow, wee one,” he murmured. “I’ll fight for ye and for her. Excuse me language, but I’ll be damned if I’m goin’ to let someone take me away from both of ye.”
And though he’d vowed that he wouldn’t lie with Nancy at the risk of her having his child without his knowledge, whether by leaving or by his death, he couldn’t face tomorrow without having that strange, wondrous lass, body and soul.
If he died and she ended up carrying his baby, at least there’d be one more piece of him left in the world. If he lived and she decided to leave, at least he’d have a memory to hold onto, though he would never marry again.
“Sleep well, me sweet darlin’,” he whispered to his daughter.
As he watched the beautiful sunset, he began to sing a song of the mountains, so that Freya might distantly remember his voice if he was no longer around.
“It’s not one of your husbands, is it?” Nancy asked, discreetly watching the pendulum clock that hung from the wall in Adeline’s guest room. “They don’t have a secret vendetta against Hunter that I should know about?”
The Clark sisters had arrived an hour ago, though Eileen had been noticeably, disappointingly absent. The sisters had assured her that she planned to attend the wedding and would arrive first thing in the morning with Beitris, but Nancy wished her former neighbor and sometime guardian hadn’t left it until the last minute. There were so many questions she still needed to ask, and Eileen was probably the only person, aside from a historian in the future, who could answer them.
Adeline shook her head apologetically. “My husband likes him, and Logan doesn’t like many people.”
“Same,” Jane agreed. “Dougal thinks he’s a good laird: dutiful, powerful, feared but fair.”
Nancy groaned. “It has to be Laird MacLeach, then.”
“Occam’s razor,” Adeline said. “The simplest explanation is usually the right one. I mean, he blamed Hunter for his daughter’s death, and he had to fight a war because of Hunter’s cousin. It’s reason enough for him to want to kill Hunter.”
“I know.” Nancy puffed out a breath. “I know, I was just hoping it wouldn’t be someone who might bring a whole army with him.”
Jane made a pensive sound. “But if he was, then they’d have been spotted. It’s more likely to be an assassin.”
“Jane!” Adeline cried out, shooting her sister a pointed look. “We’re supposed to be calming Nancy down, not throwing her back into a panic.”
Jane pulled a face. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
“Because it’s probably true?” Nancy replied with a tired smile.
Out of her bag, Jane pulled a battered hip flask and handed it to Nancy. “Have a sip of this. It’ll steady your nerves. If it doesn’t, just keep sipping.”
“Is that the doctor’s prescription, too?” Nancy asked with a glance at Adeline, taking the hip flask and sniffing it. Whatever it was, it smelled potent.
“Can’t hurt,” Adeline replied with a shrug.
With a grimace, Nancy took a hesitant sip. The smoky flavor of whisky hit the back of her throat, hurtling down into her stomach like a fireball.
As someone who liked to think she could hold her liquor, she was a little embarrassed as she began to splutter, holding the hip flask out as if it were some dangerous, corrosive chemical.
Jane chuckled as she took the flask back. “It takes some getting used to.” She took a sip as she sank onto the armrest of Adeline’s chair. “I’m sorry there wasn’t any news in the box. As I said, it’s incredibly unreliable.”
“It’s okay,” Nancy said, wiping her mouth. “It was a long shot.”
“I left word with Emma about everything, so if tomorrow goes well, she can send a note back to let us know if things have changed in the future,” Adeline interjected. “Unless you’re planning on going back yourself?”
