"Heckie?"

Rebbie grinned. "Aye. He is well and ornery as ever."

Lachlan slid his arm around Angelique's shoulders and they entered Draughon's great hall, the rest of the party following.

"M'laird. M'lady." The servants and clansmen bowed respectfully, then a cheer went up.

Lachlan thanked them, shaking hands all around, a bit sad that only half the clan remained. But he was fairly certain these were the people he could trust.

"Who is this?" Angelique asked.

A wee lad stood near high table. Something about him looked familiar, not just his green eyes and red hair but his facial shape and expression.

"This is Timmy," Rebbie said. "We found him at Burnglen with his nanny. Lady Angelique, he is apparently your…natural half-brother."

"Mère de Dieu. In truth? My father's son?" She crept forward.

"That's the rumor. Even I can see the family resemblance."

Angelique knelt. "Good day, Timmy."

He ran and hid behind a woman's skirts. His nanny.

Lachlan watched while Angelique gently coaxed him out and even convinced him to talk in a whisper. He was so young, no more than four summers. Soon, he would no longer remember much about his uncle Kormad. Timmy would grow up here at Draughon with Orin and Kean, Lachlan decided. A good start to their family.

Rebbie joined Lachlan and Dirk. "I need to talk to both of you," he said quietly.

They proceeded into the library.

"What is it? Has something else happened?" Lachlan asked.

"Nay. I but wanted to tell you, when I arrived here a few weeks ago, Eleanor had taken up residence."

"You jest! She had that much gall?"

Rebbie chuckled. "Aye, but I sent her packing back to England soon enough. Hopefully, she will leave you and Angelique in peace."

"I thank you for taking care of that debacle."

"About the two white mares you purchased for Angelique's wedding gift, they are in the stables whenever you wish to present them to her."

"Och. I wondered where they went." Lachlan looked forward to seeing the happiness on Angelique's face when he gave them to her.

"When the horses were released the night of your attack, they returned to the Robertson's. The chief then sent some of his men to return them to you."

"I'm relieved."

Rebbie opened a drawer on the desk and took out what appeared to be a missive bearing a red wax seal. He handed it to Dirk. "This arrived for you."

"For me?" He frowned.

"Aye, it bears your name."

Dirk broke the seal and unfolded the paper. Standing by the window, he read in silence for a few moments.

Lowering the paper, he muttered, "Damnation."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you later." Taking the letter, he strode out the door.

"Hmph," Lachlan grunted. "I wish he wouldn't do that."

"He's the most secretive person I know. 'Tis vexing."

"Well, given your prying skills, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough," Lachlan said, opening the door.

"Och." Rebbie frowned.

Lachlan smiled. "In the meantime, 'tis time for my beautiful wife and me to retire for the evening." They had much rest and lovemaking to catch up on.

Entering the great hall, Lachlan found her talking to Timmy's nanny. Taking Angelique's hand, he kissed the back.

Her wide-eyed gaze flew to him. When he pressed another kiss to her satiny skin, a pink flush moved over her face.

He drew near and whispered in her ear. "I think 'tis time for a long, hot bath. What say you?"

She grinned and glanced around at the people observing them, her blush darkening. He had no worries about who watched or if they knew he desired—and loved—his wife. He scooped her up into his arms and headed toward the stairs amid many snickers and chuckles from the clan, along with a few bawdy comments.

"Lachlan," she scolded quietly. "Your arm! It is not yet healed. You will injure yourself."

"Nay. My arm is growing stronger. Besides, you weigh no more than a bluebell blossom."

"But everyone is watching," she said in a scandalized whisper.

"I don't care if they know how much I love my wife," he said, trying to nibble on her chin or neck. If only she would stop squirming.

"But…." she sputtered, finally growing still as he quickly mounted the steps. Her emotion-filled eyes locked on his.

Aye, indeed. How could she argue with that? He grinned.

"I love you, too, my wild Highlander," she whispered. At the top of the stairs, she took his face between her palms and kissed him eagerly. Lachlan's heart melted because he would never tire of hearing those words. Nor would he tire of trying to please his wee hellcat.

***

Look for Dirk's story, next in the series.

***

About the author: Vonda Sinclair’s favorite indulgent pastime is exploring Scotland, from Edinburgh to the untamed and windblown north coast. She also enjoys creating hot, Highland heroes and spirited lasses to drive them mad. She is a past Golden Heart finalist and Laurie award winner. She lives with her amazing and supportive husband in the mountains of North Carolina where she is no doubt creating another Scottish story. Please visit her website to learn more. http://www.vondasinclair.com