Page 29 of Much Ado About a Scot

“Good day, Lady Seaton. It’s been a while since you’ve come calling here. What can I do for you?” Pringle asked with a raised brow.

“It is good to see you, Pringle. It’s my son, Jamie. Have you seen him?” Isobel asked, scanning the hallway behind the older man who had always been so kind to her in the past despite the animosity of his employer toward her family.

“Nay. The lad isn’t here. I’d be the first to know if he was. Would you like me to gather some of our servants to help in the search?” True concern lingered in his voice.

Isobel’s breath hitched in relief. “That would be—”

“That is unnecessary, Pringle.” A slow, mocking smile tilted one side of David Graham’s mouth. “All of the servants are busy preparing for this harvest festival you needlessly thrust upon us.”

Isobel steeled herself. “My son is missing. I ask for your help in finding him.” Incredibly, her voice sounded calm, strong.

“I have no responsibility to help you. But it is a shame that your one heir is missing. Should a terrible fate befall the child, and then if anything were to happen to you, Gladmuir Hall’s ownership would revert to me.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “Is that a threat?”

“Nay. ’Tis a reminder that perhaps you should take better care of your child.”

With all the courage she could muster, Isobel straightened and met Graham’s hard gaze. “Hate me, milord. Despise my family, but don’t make my child suffer now because of whatever feud you have imagined between us.”

He said nothing, simply staring at her. Only the flexing of his hands at his sides hinted at any emotion at all. Finally, he turned to Pringle. “Send five servants to help. That is all.”

Pringle nodded and hurried away.

Tilting his chin, Graham turned back to Isobel. An irritated frown puckered his forehead but a sadness that reminded her of defeat flitted through his dark eyes.

“Thank you,” she said with sincerity. “I appreciate the help.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, go,” Graham spat out. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Jamie.”

As the door slammed in her face, Isobel allowed the barest of smiles to bend her lips. David Graham was usually unpleasant, often terrifying, but that was the first time he had ever called her child by his name.

Perhaps there was hope for the man yet?

*

As Xander approached the bottom of the well he breathed easier when he did not find Jamie’s body in the golden light that writhed on the dirt and leapt on the curved walls of the tunnels. Kneeling, Xander examined the patterns in the dirt and instantly recognized Jamie’s smaller footprints. He’d gone to the left—toward David Graham’s estate.

Time was of the essence to find the child before he either made it to the Graham estate or had an encounter with the man who had entered the well earlier. Xander stood, holding the candle aloft to guide him, and hurried down the corridor.

When he neared the end of the passageway, light splashed through the darkness and landed on a small figure sitting on the soft, dry dirt, hugging his knees to his chest. Xander’s heart missed a beat as he came to the little boy’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Jamie? Are you well? I’m here now. I am with you.”

The little boy lifted his head. Tears pooled in his eyes and spilled onto his cheeks. “I wanted to follow you inside the well, but I got lost.”

Xander didn’t know what to do, how to comfort the boy. He sank down beside him and gently stroked his back with halting strokes. “I found you, Jamie. It will be all right.”

Jamie’s big blue eyes looked up at him. “Nothing has been right since my daddy died.”

Xander hadn’t realized until that moment the magnitude of what Jamie had lost. Even at three years of age, Jamie recognized that he’d lost not only his dad, but also his guide, his support, his protector, his friend. Xander’s own throat tightened as he recalled his own loss. A part of his own heart that he’d thought had turned numb from sorrow cracked wide open, exposing wounds both old and new. He could never reclaim any of his old losses. But for now, he could champion a boy who desperately needed a father’s love. “I know how you’re feeling. When I was a young boy, I lost my mother and my father years before that.” The boy didn’t need to know his father had abandoned him.

Jamie swiped at his checks with the back of his hand. “How did you grow up with no mummy or daddy?”

“I was taken to a foundling home for boys in Edinburgh. I was one of the lucky ones. When I was ten years old, I was sent into service as a page for a laird in East Lothian. As I grew older and stronger, I became a squire.”

“You were a squire?” The boy’s eyes went wide as he put a comforting hand on Xander’s knee.

“For the Ross clan. That’s where I learned to use a sword and how to fight.” Xander stared down at the child’s small hand as memories from his past flooded his mind.

He’d become the best fighter in his adoptive clan and had proven his worth on the battlefield time and again. So much so that King James himself took notice. That was eight years ago. Since that time, he had taken his adoptive clan’s name, he’d been granted a title, a castle, and had gathered a small fortune to fill his coffers. The fury that had propelled him to overcome his situation was still there, simmering in the background.