Kilted Sin (Brethren of Stone 3)

“Eat then,” he answered quietly as he pulled a chunk of bread from the load and handed it to her without another word. Somehow, he was afraid to spook her, wanting her to eat the food.

She dipped her spoon into the bowl and brought it back up to her mouth. Her features twisted as she took the first bite. “It’s divine.”

“I don’t think so,” Fiona replied as she took another large bite of meat. “The nuns at St. Mary’s fed us porridge every meal.” Fiona wrinkled her nose. “They said that food was divine. This is much better than that.”

Will sucked in his breath. He didn’t know whether to laugh or be outraged. How could growing children only be fed porridge? “I think they meant it in a different way. God had blessed that porridge. Gemma thinks the stew is so delicious that it is like it was blessed.”

Fiona nodded. “Whichever food is blessed, I’d like to have more stew, please.”

Will gave her a smile. If there was one thing he could do right in this situation, it was fatten them all up. “Of course, Fiona.” He ladled her out another spoonful.

She dug in, but Gemma set her spoon down and met his gaze across the table. “Laird Sinclair.”

He shook his head. They were eating together. Well he wasn’t eating, but they sat together at a small table. Laird seemed too formal under the circumstances. “Call me Will.”

“Will,” she replied. “Thank you for the meal.”

He raised his brows. “You can thank me by eating it.”

She gave him a beautiful smile. It lit her entire face and near stole his breath. Then she dug back into her soup.

They sat like that for half an hour. Eating and talking a little. At some point, Ewan fell asleep in his arms and Fiona, after finishing her second bowl, looked as though she might lay her head on the table and do the same.

“Let’s put them down for a nap,” Gemma whispered across the table.

He nodded, even as his chest tightened. There was something so intimate about the situation and he tried to harden himself against the warmth that spread through him. None of them would be in his life for long.

These were not his children and Gemma was not a woman that would ever be his. Nor could he trust her completely after their first ill-fated encounter. The moment he let his guard down, she’d likely take all that she could and be gone again. Could he blame her?

After he stood, he carried Ewan to a bed and tucked him in, covering the lad with the blankets. Gemma followed suit with Fiona and then they both crept toward the hall.

As he gently shut the door, she touched his forearm with light fingers. “If you’re not sending them back to the orphanage, do you intend to keep them?” she asked.

He ignored the way his body tingled at the gesture and shook his head. “The magistrate is trying to find a home for them. A couple looking for children.” He held in the deep sigh that threatened to lodge from his chest. He was worried for them. “I am a bachelor, trying to begin a new business venture. I want them to be in a good home, but I don’t think my home is the right place for them.”

She stepped closer and he could smell her. Spring lilacs and gentle rain assailed his nostrils.

“You’re doing more than most,” she said softly. “Remember that.”

He clenched his hands in fists to keep from pulling her closer. He wanted to protest but kept silent. In his heart, he felt like there was more he could do. More than any member of his family would.

* * *

Gemma spent the following day with the children. They started by scouring the house for anything that could be used as a toy. Their explorations led them into several dusty rooms and she made a mental note to clean them. She could begin a basic education with Fiona but there was no reason they couldn’t spend some of the day contributing to the house.

She’d had three consecutive meals and it was amazing what that did for her stamina.

As she carried dinner up to the nursery, a lovely lamb roast with vegetables, she wondered if she might ask for a permanent position. Though she likely wouldn’t get it. She hadn’t made the best first impression.

She didn’t see Will the rest of the day and all the next. Mrs. Cleary told her he was helping in the fields. The crofters who had rented his land to farm hadn’t made a very good profit during the past several years. “Mr. Sinclair has discovered one of the crofters is a widow,” the housekeeper had informed her. “He’s helping her plant so that she might make her rent.” The man was perfect.

Gemma began using naptime to launder clothes, and Mrs. Cleary seemed grateful for the help. She also began cleaning several rooms in the afternoons. She and Fiona would sing songs, dusting and sweeping while Ewan played. She tried to make the chores fun and the children seemed to enjoy it.

They were working in the library, dusting the wall of books shelved on the far end. She began a popular ditty with Fiona and they sang as she dusted high and Fiona low. The girl missed several spots as she danced, her little voice wobbling away. Gemma gave her a chuck on the chin as Ewan banged a wooden spoon on a pan to participate.

The song finally came to an end, not that Ewan stopped banging, but another clapping joined the noise and Gemma turned to see Will leaning against the door. He was grimy and dirty, and looking every bit a farmer.

He had never looked more handsome as he grinned at them. “Bravo,” he called.