Page 60 of Midnight Conquest

“You know exactly what!” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Putting such daft ideas in Davina’s head. What were you thinking?”

Broderick frowned, his brow furrowing. “Lass, I’ve no idea what ye’re on about.”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me.” Her hands flew to her hips. “She told me why you’re here. I thought it was a fine idea at first, but this? You should be ashamed of yourself. Getting the baby involved?”

Broderick’s confusion deepened. He straightened, his arms falling to his sides. “The baby? What baby? What in blazes are ye talkin’ about?”

Rosselyn opened her mouth to elaborate, but the door swungopen once more, and Davina stepped into the room, an infant perched on her hip. Broderick’s eyes immediately went to her flushed cheeks, her red face a stark contrast to her dark blue gown. The baby squirmed uncomfortably, letting out a soft whimper.

“She’s your responsibility,” Rosselyn said flatly, shaking her head as she brushed past Davina. “I’ll have no part in this madness.”

“What madness?” Broderick called after her, but Rosselyn didn’t look back. The door swung shut behind her.

Before Broderick could press Davina for answers, the bairn let out a small belch. “What’s going on?” he asked, glancing warily between mother and child.

“Broderick, meet Cailin, my daughter.” Davina gave him a sheepish smile and adjusted the baby in her arms. “I’m confessing right now,” she said, her voice dry, “that I’m a horrible mither.”

Broderick raised a brow. “Aye, well, that’s reassuring.”

“I mean it,” she said, though there was a flicker of amusement piercing through the guilt in her eyes. “I’m terrible. Horrible.Desperate. But it’s too late to back out now.” She shifted Cailin again, who let out another small whine. “Come along, now.”

She pushed open the door to the Great Hall, and Broderick followed, his curiosity mounting.

The hall was warm and brightly lit, the long table already laden with food. Wax candles burned low in the iron sconces, casting golden light over the trenchers and goblets arranged in precise order. Roasted meats steamed at the center, flanked by platters of greens, fresh bread, and dried fruit. A faint haze of woodsmoke lingered in the rafters, the scent of sage and rosemary curling in the air.

Lords Tammus and Ewan rose from their seats as Davina entered, their faces marked with confusion.

“Davina,” Tammus began, his tone gruff, “what’s the meaning of this? You’ve kept our guest waiting.”

“My sincerest apologies, uncle…Laird Gordon.” Davina bounced Cailin on her hip. “She’s been fussy all evening, and no one could get her to calm down.”

Ewan shifted in his seat, his gaze darting nervously toward the baby. He adjusted his tunic, his fingers brushing at an imaginary speck of dust, then reached for his goblet.

“Hand her to Myrna, then,” Tammus said, his brow furrowing.

“She screams louder the moment I give her to anyone else,” Davina replied, her tone calm but firm. “I’ll manage. Let’s just sit down, shall we?”

Broderick took a bench along the edge of the hall facing Davina, far from the table but close enough to hear everyone’s thoughts. He crossed his arms, smirking as he focused on Davina. “Yer right, lass. Yer a horrible mither. Ingenious. Crafty. Bold. But aye, a horrible mither.”

Davina glanced at him, her frown apologetic. Her thoughts brushed against his like a whisper. “Don’t forget desperate. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to her, I swear it.”

Broderick chuckled silently, shaking his head.

At the table, Tammus tried valiantly to smooth over the tension, though his scowl betrayed his annoyance.

He leaned in, holding his goblet and adopting a deliberately cheerful tone in an attempt to lighten the mood. The candlelight flickered across the polished wood of the table, creating shifting shadows on his aged face. “So, Ewan, what do you think of the land around Stewart Glen? You’ve surely noticed its beauty.”

Ewan dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin andnodded stiffly. “It’s…quaint,” he replied, his voice tight. “Though I confess, I’ve not had much time to explore.”

Tammus chuckled, clearly unimpressed by the lukewarm response. “Then we’ll have to take a ride on the morrow and show you how this so-called quaint land is the backbone of the finest wool in the Highlands. Davina’s father—God rest his soul—had the foresight to turn these hills into a sheep farmer’s paradise. You’ve likely heard of Stewart Glen’s wool, even if you didn’t realize it.”

Ewan blinked, his brow furrowing. “I don’t believe so.”

“Aye,” Tammus said, his chest puffing slightly with pride. “The very wool that lines the cloaks of lords and bishops alike. Traders come from as far as Edinburgh to buy it. The Glen’s prosperity is no accident, lad—it’s the result of Parlan’s hard work and vision.”

Davina’s eyes widened and she smiled faintly, bouncing Cailin slightly on her lap to soothe her.“Although it’s nice to hear uncle bragging about my father’s endeavors,”her thoughts said.“This is a first. He hates the wool business.”

Broderick snorted.“Then desperation runs in yer family. ’Tis obvious he’s eager to impress the young laird.”

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