Kilted Sin (Brethren of Stone 3)

He rode home and after leaving his horse in the stable, he entered the warm kitchen. It smelled of pie and stew. The sort of smells that made a home. Despite all the hard labor of the morning, his muscles twitched with energy. “Mrs. Hammond,” he called. “Where are Gemma and the children?”

“They went to the village.” Mrs. Hammond smiled as she looked up at him. “They’re getting a roast for tomorrow.”

Will sucked in his breath. She’d left with the children? He’d never told her that she couldn’t leave the premises. But still. That part of him that didn’t trust her reared to the surface. Would she leave? Take the children with her? Sell them to a slave trader? He ignored the voice that told him he was being ridiculous as he charged across the kitchen.

With a rumble, he shot back out the door and grabbed Hades. Jumping on the steed’s back he made the short journey into the village in record time. Jumping from the horse, he tried to calm his breathing. She had no money. Where might she have gone?

> He started down Main Street, when the squeaking of a sign caught his attention. McLean’s office.

Just then she stepped out holding Fiona’s hand with Ewan on her hip. She clutched several items to her chest.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he growled out.

She stopped, her wide eyes meeting his. “What?”

“Why do you have the children at the magistrate’s office?” he barked, grabbing Fiona’s other hand. “What are you planning?”

“Planning?” she repeated, her brow crinkling.

His gaze narrowed. “I am trying to decide if you are genuine or just trying to trick me again.”

A tear slid down her cheek as she pressed Ewan into his arms. She swiped at the tear. “I can’t have this conversation with you now.” Then she turned and started down the street in the opposite direction.

“Mrs. McLaren?” McLean called.

Will blinked. How long had the man been there? Had he just said Mrs.?

“Yes.” She turned back to them, wiping her cheeks with her palms.

McLean straightened, sucking in his breath before he lifted up his arm. “You forgot your basket.”

“It isn’t mine, it’s his.” Then she turned and walked away.

Will grabbed the basket and flipped open the lid. It was meat for Mrs. Hammond. If Gemma had been up to something nefarious she would not have run the cook’s errand. He squeezed his eyes shut. He was a fool.

Ewan pointed down the street. “Uh,” he said. Will turned to him. He realized the boy had never made a sound. “Uh, uh, uh.” He pointed at Gemma.

“You’re right, Ewan.” Will’s stomach sunk to his knees. “I’ve just made a terrible mistake and I think I should go apologize.”

“You should. What I just told that woman might sink the average person.” Mr. McLean said. “When you’re done, please come back. I’ve got something for you as well.”

Will gave the magistrate a tight nod but his eyes were following the sway of Gemma’s hips as she hurried away. Damn it all to hell. He couldn’t get a single thing right. “Gemma,” he yelled down the street. “Gemma wait.” She turned the corner and he looked down at Fiona. “Let’s run.”

With one child on his hip and holding Fiona by the hand, he started racing after her. He looked ridiculous, he was sure, but he didn’t care. He needed to reach Gemma. Running faster, he called out, “Gemma, please stop.”

He skidded around the corner and nearly collided with her, stopped on the street, her back to him. “Gemma?”

She turned, tears streaking down her face. Both of his hands were full and so he reached for her with the one that held Ewan and pulled her toward them both. Gemma collapsed against his chest even as Fiona wrapped an arm around each of their waists. And there the four of them stood, Gemma crying, all of them hugging.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Are you sorry for thinking the worst of me or are you apologizing over my ridiculous situation? Because you’re probably right to think I’m a terrible person.” She hiccupped. “Only someone awful would get what I’ve gotten from life.”

He wanted to stroke her cheek but he couldn’t manage it so he dropped his nose to hers. “You’re not terrible. I’ve told ye all there is to know about me, just about. I’ve only now realized I haven’t asked ye a single thing in return. I think it’s time ye told me.”

She shook her head. “You don’t want to know and I don’t want to tell you,” she said. “If you’ve a bad opinion of me now, wait until you hear why I’ve come to the Highlands.”

He kissed her forehead. “I doubt it. Besides, ye probably don’t like me all that much either.”