Page 36 of A Stranger’s Promise

After circling the nursery floor twice, he stopped.

She didn’t immediately step away, but stared up at him, her lips parted. He saw the unspoken question in her eyes. She wanted to know his intention. He’d never wanted anything in his life as badly as to show her exactly what those intentions were, but now was neither the time nor place.

Instead, he lifted a brow and directed the conversation to safer ground. “Am I so frightening?” She frowned, and he added, “You look as though you’ve seen the ghostly piper, Charlotte.”

She started and stepped out of his hold.

“The ghostly piper?” Oliver asked as Charlotte returned to her seat at the table and Jane climbed into Meg’s lap in her chair near the hearth.

“Aye, the piper.” Alistair tossed him a warm smile and went to the table. As he took his seat opposite Charlotte, he bumped a table leg, rattling the china.

Oliver skipped over to hop into the chair next to him. “A real ghost?” he asked.

“Aye, a real ghost.” Alistair grinned. “On stormy days such as these, you will hear the skirl of his pipes on the wind. Listen.” He put a finger to his lips and nodded at the window and the gray skies beyond.

The creak of Meg’s rocker stopped and silence descended in the nursery as they held their breath so that only the gusts of wind battering the windowpanes could be heard.

After a few moments, Charlotte glanced uncertainly at him and Meg resumed her rocking.

Alistair resumed the tale. “It was years ago and on one such a day, that the Cassilis piper went for a wee wander into the cliff caves below the castle,” he said in a low stage voice. “He took his dog and pipes along with him, wanting to play a good Scottish tune to banish the ghosts and evil spirits that had gathered in the caves. Only…” he let his voice trail away, then added in a whisper, “he never returned.”

“Never?” Oliver breathed.

“Never,” Alistair repeated in a lower, deeper voice.

It was too much for Jane. She squealed and buried her face in Meg’s ample bosom. “There, there, lassie,” the nursemaid chuckled, “it’s only a tale.”

“A tale to scare children.” Charlotte sent him a chastising look.

The devil, but he wanted to kiss her.

With a playful wink that dared her to object, he lowered his voice even more, “Aye, wee children are frightened by the tale—and grown folk, as well.”

At the wink, a fine blush crept up Charlotte’s cheeks, but she lifted her chin and said, “Foolish folk.”

The fire her eyes reignited the desire to taste her pink lips. The lass was too tempting.

“But the ghost—” Oliver was saying.

At Jane’s whimper, Charlotte turned to the boy and scooped up a spoon, then brandished it in a mock threat. “Enough talk of such things. I’ll rap the knuckles of the next person that mentions this piper and his ghosts.”

How could he resist? Staring straight into her lovely hazel eyes, he leaned close to Oliver and said, “Aye, lad, the piper vanished…but his dog came back—shaking in fear and with not a hair left on his wee body.”

Charlotte tossed her head. For a moment, he thought she’d back down, but to his great delight, she rapped the spoon across his knuckles. Alistair seized her hand. She tugged back, but he held her eyes. She parted her lips as if to speak, but only stared.

Understanding struck. She cared for him…just as he cared for her. The realization made his heart soar. He would reel her back from Edwards—he had to. No doubt, it would be a fine, intricate dance—but he was an excellent dancer. Slowly, he drew his hand away, letting her fingers slip through his. Only then, did he become aware of the others in the room, of Jane wailing and Meg shushing her as she lumbered to her feet.

“Losh, lassie, it’s time for a wee nap,” the nursery maid cajoled. “Let’s leave these folk to their dreary tales.” With a broad smile, she hefted Jane over her shoulder and carried her out of the room.

Oliver stood and leaned over the table. “The dog. Did its hair grow back?”

Alistair chuckled. He hadn’t a clue, but he wasn’t above embellishing the tale. “Aye, but it took a year or more.”

“Will he play his pipes tonight?” Oliver cast a serious glance out the window.

“Och, now, he might, lad.” Alistair laughed, then recalled the mysterious man in the forest. Alistair faced Charlotte. “I’ve seen you and the children wandering about in the afternoons. Have you come across a man wearing a green hat with a red feather near the Swan Pond?”

She blinked in surprise, but shook her head, “Nae, my lord.”