Page 60 of Sweet Home Highlander
With one final cry, Aisla cradled a bloody but squalling newborn in her arms, wrapping the babe—a girl—in swaddling from Pauline. She handed the bundled infant to her exhausted mother, who put her to her breast, and quickly took care of the remainder of the birth.
“Oh my heavens,” the foreman’s wife crooned, “she’s so wee and bonny. Thank ye, my lady, thank ye.”
“You’re welcome.”
Niall met Aisla’s eyes, and she gave him a wan smile. He waited until she had finished before gathering her into his arms outside the cottage and settling her in his lap atop his horse. All her composure fled in that one instant and she collapsed against his chest, sobbing. Niall rubbed slow circles on her back, letting her cry as he rode them back to Tarben Castle. It’d been an overwhelming, emotional experience. For him, too.
Once Pauline had finished helping her mistress with her bath and left the bathing chamber, Niall returned to hand her a glass of warmed brandy as she sat in the chairs before the fire in his room. He’d also bathed and changed. “Drink this.”
“I don’t want any spirits.”
“’Twill help settle yer nerves, trust me.” Obediently, she sipped. “Ye were incredible in there, Aisla.”
“I was terrified.”
“The Aisla I ken was never scared of anything. She was there tonight like a force of nature. Ye saved that woman and her bairn, ye ken?”
She didn’t answer him. He crouched to his knees beside her, watching the firelight play off her face and in the drying lengths of her amber curls. She’d never looked more beautiful. Or more vulnerable. “Did you see her?” she said softly after a moment. “She was so perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, rosebud mouth. She was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Aye,” he said.
“Thank you for trusting me,” she said with a winsome smile. She reached for a wrapped package resting on the table beside the chair. “Oh, I forgot. I have something for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes, I found it in the jeweler’s shop in the village, and it reminded me of you.”
With an odd choking sensation in his chest, he unwrapped the package with exquisite care. He recognized the piece instantly as he cradled the glass wolf in his palms. It’d been one of his favorites.
“Do you like it?”
“Very much.”
“It’s truly remarkable. Makenna told me a hermit made it.”
Niall drew a deep breath, his fingers caressing the glass flanks of the animal. As much as it troubled him to tell her the truth, it didn’t seem to be an appropriate time to keep more secrets. Moments like these were rare. He pushed a smile to his lips. “I suppose the last six years I’ve taken to being a hermit.”
It took a minute for the revelation to sink in. Her eyes widened. “Youmade this?”
“Aye.”
“And all the other pieces?” she asked incredulously. “The jewelry? The daggers?”
“No’ all of the rings and pendants, but the daggers, yes.”
Her mouth fell open, and then her face went red as she reached for the wolf. “Give that back. It’s ludicrous for me to give you a gift of something you made. You’re the artist.”
“Nae,” he said, holding it out of her reach. “’Twas a gift.”
“I’ll get you something else.”
“Aisla,” he said quietly. “It’s perfect. Ye could no’ have chosen something that meant more to me.”
That she had admired the wolf enough to purchase it made him happy, but that she’d wanted to give him agift…any gift at all…made him feel cared for, even appreciated, and that was something entirely unexpected.
She laughed then, the sound making a feeling of joy bloom in his heart, and for a moment, he wanted to laugh, too. The starkly admiring look on her face was almost too much to bear, but soon, her lips trembled into a frown. “What is it?” he asked.
“It feels like I don’t know you anymore,” she said after a prolonged moment. “The man I knew would not have done all you have. He would not have opened a mine or employed disabled men and widowed women. He would not have taken the time to create beautiful art like this.”
