Page 33 of Kilty By Association
Robbie smirked at Craig. “Because she tried to rub it in Mary’s hair last time.”
Katharine aimed a kick at Robbie, and would’ve connected, had Craig not scooped her up and marched them all off to the nearest entrance to the secret passages.
Aye, waking up with Elspeth in his arms had made him smile today, even if she’d been flustered and ducked back through the passages to her room, with only a quick kiss to tide him over. He would’ve enjoyed another round of pleasure this morning, but honestly, the comfort of her in his arms had been wonderful.
But spending today with her children had been fairly wonderful itself.
He’d always enjoyed the little ones—at one point, he would’ve said ‘twas because he thought like them, but Drum’s command to have faith in himself discouraged those sorts of insults.
He was realizing, despite no’ having children of his own, there’d always been so many wee ones around Oliphant Castle that he’d become used to teaching them. Heenjoyedhelping to mold their young minds to become the adults who’d make the clan a better place, and he’d missed that in his time as a Hunter.
Being around Robbie reminded him of that.
Somewhere along the way, the lad had ceased to be merely an assignment and had become…well, something more. Someone Craig enjoyed being around.
Now that their tour of the secret passages was done, Craig had offered to take Robbie and his sister down to the village and show them around. The bakery had been a favorite so far, because they’d each received a sample of the sweet bread, and Katharine had seemed excited about the smithy.
Mainly because Craig had talked his cousin into allowing the wee sprite the chance to hit a piece of molten metal with the smallest hammer. “Careful,” he’d warned. “’Tis hot enough to burn ye.”
The five-year-old had given him a look which clearly said sheknewthat, then whaled away on what was supposed to be a nail.
“I dinnae realize nails were so flat,” whispered Robbie dryly.
Craig stifled his chuckle. “Mayhap she can use it as a—nay, ‘tis too flat for even that. If she sharpens one side, ‘twould be a fine knife.”
“Och, aye, just what Mother wants her to have, more weapons.”
That time, Craig hadn’t bothered to hide his snort of laughter. “That’s thin enough, Kat.”
The little girl, red-faced and flushed, had beamed when he’d showed her how to plunge her “nail” into water to cool it, and now she held it in her pocket while she skipped ahead as they continued their tour of the village, taking it out to wave at random Oliphants and declaring she wanted to be a blacksmith when she was grown.
“I’m no’ certain ‘tis any better than a battle-axer,” Robbie admitted, “which is what she still calls a berserking warrior.”
Craig shrugged, one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other hooked into his belt as they strolled. “My great-grand uncle, Duncan Oliphant, worked right in that verra forge as a talented goldsmith. His true father was the laird, but the man who married his mother was the village smith, and taught Duncan about the blacksmithing trade. ‘Twas a woman, however, who taught Duncan what he needed to ken about being a goldsmith, and he started a school teaching others—men and women—nearby.”
Robbie hummed thoughtfully, and when Craig glanced down at him—keeping one eye on Katharine, who’d stopped to chatter at Bess and a shaggy Highland Coo—he saw the lad stood with one hand on his miniature sword, the other hooked in his belt.
As if he was mimicking Craig.
The thought made himproud, although he had no right to be.
“Did yer father teach ye smithing?” Robbie asked without looking up at Craig. There was something in his voice which told the man there was more to the question, so he was careful how he answered.
“Nay, my da was the Oliphant Commander, just as his father afore him. I learned from a cousin, descended from Duncan Oliphant, the goldsmith.”
Robbie hummed again, his attention also on his younger sister. Orseeminglyso.
“My father didn’t teach me aught either,” he finally admitted. “Mayhap he would’ve, once I grew.”
‘Twas dangerous ground, speaking to a child about death. “Aye, likely. I kenned he was proud of ye.”
But the lad snorted. “Then why did he want another son so badly? My mother had two bairns after me—before Katharine—who didnae breathe. My father blamed her.”
Craig winced, his chest tightening not just for this lad who thought ‘twas evidence his father disapproved ofhim, but for what Elspeth had gone through.
She’d come to his bed last night, trusting him. Trusting him to not only bring her pleasure, but to not put her through that horror again.
Thank fook ye remembered to pull out in time, aye?
