Page 22 of The Highlander Who Loved Me

Davina washed her hands and face in the warm water that was provided and quickly changed into a fresh gown of green wool with embroidered trim. The round neckline showcased her long neck and the tight fit along her waist and hips gave her an illusion of height and elegance. Colleen braided her hair, then placed a gauzy veil over her head, securing it with a gold circlet.

“Ye look lovely, milady,” Colleen said approvingly.

The compliment gave Davina’s confidence a much-needed boost. It lasted only until she reached the great hall, where she found a large, boisterous crowd gathering in the cavernous space, talking, shouting, and laughing.

Davina felt a pang of trepidation slide through her as she moved forward. So many unknown faces made her stomach tighten with nerves. It only worsened when she was noticed. Davina saw several men nudge each other before looking her way and one woman whispered something in another woman’s ear.

Her discomfort under their pointed stares grew as she wound her way around the many trestle tables toward the dais. Her eyes searched fruitlessly for a familiar face and she felt herself flushing when she was unable to find one.

Davina was considering returning to her chamber and waiting there until summoned, when a young child dressed in a pale blue gown came running toward her at full speed. Yelping with astonishment, Davina tried to step out of the lass’s way, but the child adjusted her course, skidding to a stop only inches in front of her.

Davina glanced down at the little girl, wondering who she was and why she was in such a hurry. She was just about to ask the child when her gaze caught Sir Malcolm and Lady Aileen approaching.

“Och, Papa, have ye brought me a new mother?” the little girl asked, peering at Davina with hopeful eyes. Then before anyone could reply, the child threw her arms around Davina’s waist and loudly proclaimed, “She is just perfect. I love her already. Thank ye, Papa!”

Chapter Six

The sweet sound of his four-year-old daughter’s voice thundered in Malcolm’s ears. She was clinging to Lady Davina like a climbing vine, her small arms tightly locked around the older woman’s waist. Malcolm fixed his gaze on Lady Davina. Her eyebrows were arched in surprise, but they slowly lowered as the child snuggled into her.

“Let go of Lady Davina at once, Lileas,” his mother admonished. “That is not the way a proper young lady greets a guest.”

“Nay!” Lileas shouted, visibly tightening her grasp.

“Come now, Poppet, show yer good manners and do as yer grandmother commands,” Malcolm cajoled. “Or else Lady Davina will think ye’ve been raised by wolves.”

“She willnae!” Lileas insisted.

“Aye, she will and she’d be right,” Malcolm proclaimed, his patience ebbing.

The eyes of his parents weighed heavy as they watched him. Though he deferred to them in most things, out of respect and regard, he disagreed when it came to the raising of his daughter. They felt he indulged Lileas, and her whims, far too often, to compensate for the time he spent away from her on clan business. Witnessing her unruly behavior now, he worried they were right.

Without another word, Malcolm reached down and scooped his daughter up his arms. He braced himself for the squawking that was sure to follow, but the little girl stayed silent. Yet his smile of relief soon faded when he saw that Lileas continued to cling to Lady Davina’s skirts even as he held her aloft.

“Och, Malcolm, put her down before she tears Lady Davina’s gown,” his mother cried.

“Papa promised me,” Lileas proclaimed with a dramatic sigh. “I dinnae want to be a motherless child anymore.”

“Ye’re going to be a lass with a sore backside if ye dinnae do as ye are told,” Malcolm countered.

That threat caught his daughter’s attention. Finger by finger, Lileas slowly released her grip on the delicate fabric of Lady Davina’s skirt. When her hand was free, Malcolm set her on her feet, giving her a single swat on her behind.

“Apologize,” he demanded, folding his arms across his chest and glaring down at his child.

Lileas’s lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Papa. Please dinnae be mad at me anymore.”

Malcolm felt his heart nearly crush with guilt. The lass looked so small and helpless and utterly chastised. He immediately regretted his scolding tone and physical punishment, though it had been but a light tap.

A few months ago, Lileas had come to the realization that the clan children she played with all had something she lacked—a mother. Malcolm believed she had accepted the answer that her mother was in heaven and she seemed content when he had blithely assured her that one day he would find her a new mother.

He had not anticipated her expectation that the promise would be filled immediately. Nor the depth of her need. Malcolm’s guilt grew. If he were a better, more loving and attentive father, perhaps Lileas’s need for a mother might not be so great.

“Lileas, make a proper curtsy to Lady Davina,” the McKenna instructed.

Her brow furrowed with concentration, Lileas obeyed her grandfather, gracefully bending her knee. Malcolm stared at his daughter, pride spearing his heart. She looked like an angel.

“Are ye my new mama?”

Malcolm barely hid his groan. At least Lady Davina no longer seemed startled by the question. Fie, she’d heard it enough in the past five minutes to be used to it.

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