A Hellion for the Highlander

They both stopped when Annys ran forward and exclaimed, “Good day to ye! Can I have three sweet buns, please?”

“Annys!” Cicilia called, mortified. “I’m sorry, good friends, me sister sometimes forgets herself.”

Both the baker and his wife looked up at her, then to Annys, then to Jamie, who was clutching Cicilia’s hand. She saw the calculation in their eyes, so she wasn’t surprised when the wife, Susan, asked, “Are ye O’Donnel’s bairns?”

Cicilia sighed. She’d been hoping to have some time to prepare herself before the first confrontation, but she supposed this was as good a time as any. “Aye,” she said. “Me name is Cicilia O’Donnel. These are me siblings, Annys an’ Jamie. Say yer greetin’s, the two o’ ye.”

“Fair greetin’s to ye,” Annys and Jamie said at the same time, exceedingly politely. As well she’d known they would—their sweets were on the line, after all.

Susan nodded and smiled, but the baker was watching Cicilia warily. “Pleasure, Miss O’Donnel,” Susan told her. “An’ the young miss an’ master. Me name is Susan, and this is me husband, Ronald Jacobs. What brings ye to our humble bakery?”

“Sweets!” Jamie said excitedly. “Cicilia said that since we’ve been right good, we can have some sweets! Do ye have some for us? Please, bonny lady?”

Susan blinked in surprise, then chuckled. “For such a charmin’ young man? Aye, I’m certain I have some buns somewhere.”

Cicilia smiled as her siblings charmed the baker’s wife, but she could still feel Ronald’s eyes staring at her with suspicion. She was still surprised at his abruptness, though, when Ronald said roughly, “Is yer da deid?”

“Ron!” Susan admonished angrily, but her husband ignored her.

Annys and Jamie looked at each other uncertainly, obviously nervous. Of course they were—for the last year, they’d been allowed to speak of their father’s death to nobody. And now everyone seemed to know.

Poor bairns. It must be so confusin’ for them.

“Aye,” Cicilia said tiredly. There was no point in keeping the secret anymore, not now. Word was out, somehow, and all that was left was to control it before it caused any real damage. Perhaps, if she was honest, she could help save Alexander’s reputation, too. “Aye, me faither died o’ a fever last year.”

Triumph crossed Ronald’s face, and he gave his wife a look before saying, “Oh aye? And who’s been runnin’ the farm, then? Certainly nae this wee lad.”

“Nay,” Cicilia replied, standing up a little straighter. “I’ve been doin’ it meself.”

Both of the bakers looked at each other once more, then Ronald said, “The books? The wages? What about the heavy liftin’? I have nae heard o’ any new major hires since last year, except for the usual seasonal staff. What’s yer secret?”

“Nae secret,” Cicilia shrugged. “I’ve taken over me faither’s work by meself. It’s been a lot, but it’s work I’m happy to do. He’d have wanted me to keep things runnin’ smoothly, an’ until recently, I was managin’ tolerably well.”

“More than tolerably!” Annys piped up.

“Aye! Cil is the best farmer ever!” Jamie agreed.

She hushed them, but couldn’t help but smile at their sweet words.

“But ye’re a lassie, and nae more than five-an’-twenty,” Ronald said in disbelief. “An’ nae husband that I’ve heard o’.”

“An’ what o’ it?” Susan snapped, suddenly looking irritated. “Eh? What’s wrong wi’ her bein’ a lassie? She’s clearly got brains if she’s been runnin’ the place since her faither died. She’s older than I was when I was wed to ye, ye old grouch. That’s harder work than yonder farm, let me tell ye!”

The twins looked delighted, and Cicilia covered her mouth, knowing that it would be a bad idea to let the bakers see her surprised laughter.

“Away wi’ ye, woman,” Ronald grumped. “It’s nae proper for a lass o’ her wealth an’ status to be muckin’ about in pig filth.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but if it was good enough for me Mither, it’s good enough for me,” Cicilia said.

Ronald still looked distrustful. “Aye? An’ tell me, Miss Cicilia, why is it ye are nae wed?”

“Because she has common sense, I reckon,” Susan muttered, ignoring the baleful glare her husband gave her in response.

Cicilia bit her lip to prevent the smile again, then said, “I’ve nae had the fortune to find love, I suppose.”

“Ye love—” Jamie started, but Annys kicked his shin.

“Shh,” the little girl whispered. “Dinnae be so daft!”