Page 39 of Kidnapping Cordelia

Luella gave Muir a look of mild exasperation as she lifted her baby daughter Fiona up, settling her on her hip. Little Gordy was sat on the floor at her feet, drawing what looked to Muir’s eye to be a dragon with three heads. “Exactly what I said. I think she went for a walk.”

“Alone?” Muir asked in concern. “And ye let her? Luella, she hisnae the sense she was born with, and she disnae ken the place at all.”

“You do her a disservice, if that’s what you think,” Luella said shortly. “She’s an intelligent young woman and perfectly capable of looking after herself. If you’ve given her the impression you think her a fool, I can well understand why she’s refused to marry you.”

“She told ye?” Muir asked, discomforted by the realisation.

“She did,” Luella replied coolly. “And she’s not alone in any case. She took Murdoch on her walk, and when Hamilton saw she was by herself, he went after her. So, she is quite safe.”

“Quite safe!” Muir repeated in alarm, his heart thudding with anxiety at the realisation his charismatic brother was with Delia. “Alone with Hamilton? Good God, Luella, have yer wits gone begging? Faith, I had best go after them.” He set down the large bunch of daffodils he’d been clutching as a peace offering and turned to leave.

“There’s no need,” Luella said, before he could turn and stalk off again. “They’re back.”

She nodded towards the window of the parlour and Muir looked to see his brother and Delia, walking arm-in-arm, chatting animatedly, and looking like they’d known each other for years.

“Damn him,” Muir growled, irritated, and stalked off towards the front door.

“Muir!”

Impatiently, he swung around to look at Luella, who glared at him. “If you actually have sense enough to wish to marry Delia, I should think very hard before you go charging out there and throwing your weight around. Hamilton was walking with her, that’s all, and if you’d not done whatever it was you plainly did last night to make her refuse you, there would be no cause for concern, now would there.”

Unbidden, the memory of last night returned and Muir felt heat surge through him, guilt and desire creating a messy tangle of emotions that knotted in his chest, making him feel entirely out of sorts. He drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to consider the truth of Luella’s words.

“Aye,” he said grudgingly. “Very well, I winnae murder him this time, but he had best keep his nose out of my affairs,” he added caustically, before striding out to greet them.

Delia stiffened when she saw him, her expression settling into one that was less than friendly, which was not an encouraging sign, but hardly surprising.

“Good morning, Delia,” he said, smiling at her. “And may I say how bonnie ye look this morning? The fresh air has put roses in yer cheeks.”

“Thank you,” she replied, though her manner was reserved, her gaze speculative.

“Hamilton,” he added with a nod, giving his brother a look that told him he was not entirely pleased to see him.

“Muir, ye are looking well. It seems ye misadventures of late hinnae harmed ye. I heard ye had a time of it with Malmsey.”

Delia flinched at the man’s name, and Muir glared at him. Trust Hamilton to step in with both feet. “Aye, but my lady disnae wish to discuss that. Come in out of the cold, sweetheart, and have some tea.”

Something flashed in her eyes at the endearment, and he carried on hurriedly.

“Something smells good too, so I reckon Mrs Baillie has been making shortbread.”

“Ach, nae. She knows I’m here, so it’ll be Abernethy biscuits,” Hamilton said smugly, making Muir want to tell him to go the devil. He minded Luella’s warning, however, and held his tongue.

“Well, whatever it is, it’s bound to be good, aye,” Muir said, offering Delia his arm.

“Come along then, lassie, let’s warm ourselves by the fire,” Hamilton said, guiding her into the house before Delia could even decide if she wished to switch brothers or not.

Irritated, but determined not to show it, Muir followed.

“Good morning, Fiona!” Delia exclaimed, on entering the room to find Luella with her two children. Fiona made an excited sound and reached up her arms towards Delia, who promptly scooped her up and planted a kiss on her chubby cheek. “Oh, you smell better than the biscuits. I think I shall eat you up instead,” she declared, pressing her nose into Fiona’s neck and pretending to eat her. The little girl giggled and squealed, squirming madly.

Muir felt a peculiar surge of warmth in his chest as he watched her, so at ease with his little niece and so ready to have fun with her. Delia laughed and then looked up, blushing crimson as she discovered Muir and Hamilton both watching with amusement.

“’Gain, Dede!” Fiona demanded. “Do it ‘gain!”

But Delia had turned shy now and only kissed the child, distracting her by showing her how to pet Murdoch gently.

“She’s a treasure,” Hamilton said, and Muir turned to see his brother watching as he had been, admiration shining in his eyes. “Pretty as a picture and sweet as honey.”