Page 52 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
Arthur offered another chuckle, offering his arms outward as Rosie moved to embrace him. He then easily stood upright, settling the girl against his hip while he spoke in a gentle cadence. “I ken jealousy when I see it, rosebush. Are ye nay pleased to be an older sister?”
She took a moment to consider. Then, Rosie took a deep breath. “I am. It’s just…different ,from what I thought it’d be. Maither and Faither have to spend so much time with him–they say it’s because he’s little, but I could have hit that target if Faither had been helpin’ me practice. But he spends all his free time wit Forrester.” She sighed sadly, head cradling between the crook of Arthur’s neck.
Arthur nodded, rubbing the girl’s back soothingly as he spoke next. “Aye, I can see how that’d be hard.” He let a beat of silence linger between the pair before asking next, “D’ye think yer faither ever wished it were just ye and him, Rosie?”
Rosie lifted her head, incredulous. “Nay! Faither loves Maither a lot! And I do too!”
“Aye, now he does,” Arthur pointed out. “But I seem to remember they werenae the nicest to each other at first. It took them a wee while to figure each other out, aye?”
Rose hesitated, then nodded in agreement.
“Well, I think ye an’ Forrester are the same. Ye only just met each other; it’ll take a while for ye to learn about him.”Arthur offered another tight squeeze, causing Rosie to laugh breathlessly.
“Too tight, Uncle!”
“Aye, sorry lass!” Arthur laughed. “Yer just such a tough wee thing, I forget sometimes.” He set her back down onto the ground, smiling warmly. “I bet yer Maither and Father forget sometimes, too. Ye should tell ‘em how ye feel, rosebush.”
A slight scowl crossed Rosie’s face. “Why do I have to remind ‘em?”
“’Tis the curse of leadership,” Arthur sighed dramatically. “We gotta do all the work, ye an’ I. But, we get to have all the fun, too.” He bent over to pick up the small bow, offering it to Rosie. She considered for a moment, then snatched it up, turning once more to face the targets with a determined smirk.
Olivia couldn’t help but smile to herself, the bitter tinge lingering in the back of her throat. “Oh, Arthur…ye really would make a wonderful faither…” She suddenly desired to be amidst their revelry, stepping out from her hiding place and strolling casually up to the pair. “Ooh, is this the wee one who we’ll be celebrating over?”
Rosie gasped, immediately dropping her bow before sliding behind. Her small hands grasped against his tunic, bright eyes somewhat dulled as she looked towards Olivia cautiously.
“Och, rosebush! That there no way to greet me betrothed,” Arthur teased.
Rosie’s gaze lifted, staring at Arthur incredulously. “Th-that’s…’Livia?”
“Aye.”
Her expression soured slightly. “Ye said she were a real life selkie!”
Olivia couldn’t help but laugh aloud, bending down so as to be on Rosie’s level. “Did me betrothed spin more tall tales about me, wee one?”
“I did nae!” Arthur insisted. “I’ve spoken nothin’ but the truth.” He bent down to Rosie’s ear, whispering loudly, “Selkies look like beautiful women on land, remember? She doesnae have her coat on.”
“Ooooh…” Rosie nodded emphatically, bravely stepping out from behind Arthur as she approached Olivia. “I’m sorry I said you werenae a selkie, Miss.”
“‘Olivia” is just fine,” Olivia beamed.
Rosie’s brow furrowed in thought. “What about, ‘Auntie’ ‘Livia?”
Olivia’s expression wavered, but she kept her smile strong. “A-Aye! I suppose that would be proper, given I am to marry yer Uncle Arthur.”
Rosie’s grin melted Olivia’s heart immediately. “Auntie ‘Livia!” She tried out the new title with great enthusiasm, repeating it a few times under breath with a nod. “Auntie ‘Livia…yeah, that sounds great!”
Olivia did her best to keep an eager tone; no use in breaking the poor girl’s heart with the truth. “I saw ye were about to practice yer archery? I dinnae if ye ken, but this selkie’s a crack shot with a bow.”
Rosie’s eyes widened. “Yer teasin’ me.”
Olivia stood upright, her smirk spreading wide with childish delight. “Ye wanna see fer yerself?”
“I ken I do,” Arthur said, a mischievous glint behind his seafoam gaze. “Though, I daenae think even the pair o’ye can do better than meself.”
“Well, that simply will nae do. Come, Rosie!” Olivi offered her hand dramatically, to which Rosie grabbed with equal vigor. “Let’s show ye uncle what happens when ye flap yer mouth too widely.”
“Yeah!” Rosie cheered. “We’re gonna beat ye, Uncle Arthur!”
