Talorc frowned at Emily in censure, but the amusement in his blue eyes belied any true anger. “It is about time you acknowledged the truth.”
Abigail shook her head, so happy she could explode with it.
Talorc brushed the shell of her ear with his forefinger, his indication he wanted to say something to her. With a brilliant smile, she gave him her full attention. “Yes?”
“Wife, this near-decrepit warrior is the man your sister chose to marry over me.” He waved his hand at the other man. “Lachlan, Laird of the Balmoral.”
“It is a true pleasure to meet you,” Abigail said, her hand to her throat to make sure she had enough volume to be heard. “I am selfishly grateful that my sister married you rather than the man your king intended for her. Talorc accepts me as I am.”
Even if Lachlan did not understand how important and extraordinary that was, Abigail knew Emily would.
“I too am happy with events as they turned out,” the big warrior replied, a twinkle in his dark brown eyes. “Who knew a simple kidnapping could have such far-reaching consequences?”
“Emily kidnapped you?” Abigail asked in mock astonishment.
Though her sister had never shared the full circumstances surrounding her marriage to the wrong laird, Abigail had never believed it was something so uncomplicated as Emily and Lachlan meeting and falling in love, with Talorc stepping conveniently aside as Emily had implied in her letters.
Lachlan laughed again and he smiled at his wife. If Abigail did not know better, she would insist they were communicating somehow. Their body language implied it, but neither of their lips moved.
Emily smiled softly at Abigail. “We have both found our happiest paths by God’s grace.” She winked. “And I did not kidnap my husband, though I did do a good job of getting myself invited along for Caitriona’s kidnapping.”
“That is a story I would like to learn.”
“I’ll tell you later,” Emily promised. She looked at her husband with mischief. “Every last detail.”
Lachlan made a big production of groaning.
Abigail shook her head with a laugh. “I can see he is a good match for your humor and wit.”
“Yes.” Emily smiled in blissful contentment. Then she indicated the baby girl in her arm. “This is Abigail Caitriona, our daughter.”
The precious little one with her mother’s violet eyes and father’s dark hair reached for Abigail.
Still reeling from learning her sister had named her first child after her, Abigail’s hands shook as she extended them to take the baby. Emily relinquished her daughter with a smile.
Abigail tucked the baby close. “She is beautiful.” She smiled down at the infant. “Hello, sweeting. I am your aunt.”
The baby reached up to pat her aunt’s face.
“We call her Gail,” Emily said.
“Oh, that’s lovely.”
“Her doting papa started it. He said Abigail Caitriona was too big a mouthful for such a small body.”
Abigail choked on a watery laugh. “I should think so.”
She looked at Talorc, letting her desire to have their own child shine in her eyes. He looked back with a tender heat that caught at her heart.
Emily stared at both of them with nothing less than shock. “I would never have guessed Talorc had it in him.”
“What?” Abigail asked.
“Love.”
Then Emily’s eyes widened and she shot a chagrined glance at her husband.
She sighed and looked at Talorc. “I am sorry, that was unkind. It’s just that, while my sister’s letter said she was happy with your clan, I never imagined she could be this at ease. My own experience was so different, but there is no denying Abigail’s contentment. She is glowing with it.”
“They all know my secret, and for the most part, no one cares.” Abigail ignored her sibling’s allusions to Talorc being in love with her. She knew it was not true, but if she said so to Emily, her big sister would no doubt get defensive on her behalf. Abigail wanted nothing to mar this visit with Emily, particularly not the troubles that nipped at the edges of that contentment she so clearly rejoiced in.
“We are proud of her cleverness,” Earc said. He had been watching over her as she gardened and had held back from his usual peppering of curious questions quite manfully thus far.
“Aye, the entire clan is proud,” Talorc affirmed, evidently willing to overlook Emily’s allusion to love as well.
Emily’s lovely violet eyes grew misty again. “It is a miracle.”
Abigail knew exactly what she meant: the clan’s acceptance and appreciation of her. “Yes.”
She spent the rest of the day reacquainting her sister with the Sinclair holding and relearning her sister’s words, movements and heart as well. Emily told Abigail about her life among the Balmorals, in much richer detail than she had ever been able to go into in a letter she knew would be read by both her father and Sybil as well as Abigail.
“I am so glad you found another woman to call sister. I missed you so much, but at least I still had Jolenta. I prayed for you to find someone to take my place,” Abigail admitted.
“No one could take your place in my heart, but Cait is another sister of the soul. I know you will find the same when you come to Balmoral Island to visit.”
“Isn’t she Talorc’s sister as well?”
“Yes.”
“Won’t she come here to visit?”
Emily bit her lip, a clear marker that she was hesitant to speak freely.
“Just say it,” Abigail demanded.
“Talorc promised not to take Cait’s little son, but she worries that if she brings him to visit, Talorc will decide he belongs with the Sinclairs rather than the Balmorals.”
“Why would he?”
“Because the babe’s father was Sean, Talorc’s second-in-command before Barr.”
“Niall and Barr’s older brother?” Abigail asked in shock. “I knew they had been married, but I did not realize she was pregnant when he died.”
“Yes. And she was big with child when Drustan decided to keep her.”
“This is part of the story you need to tell me, is it not?”
“Yes, but it’s too long a story to get into before we have to return to the great hall to eat.”
The evening meal was a full celebration that ended with both lairds insisting on carrying their wives up the stairs to the sleeping quarters. Abigail couldn’t help noticing and being amused by the fact that Lachlan seemed every bit as concerned about Emily’s safety on the narrow stairway as Talorc was about her.
“It’s a tactical advantage, I’ll give you that,” Lachlan said to Talorc. “But it is not practical for a laird with a family to consider.”
Talorc looked at the stairs, then at the sleeping baby in Emily’s arms and finally at Abigail, where his gaze lingered for long seconds. “I see your meaning,” he said with a look she could not decipher.
She had no trouble deciphering the angry frown Guaire sent toward the other end of the table. No doubt Osgard had said something rude again. Ignoring him was getting more and more difficult, but she wasn’t about to whine to Talorc like a spoiled child. She had enjoyed more acceptance from her clan than she ever would have hoped for.
One man’s intransigent insistence on unpleasantness was not significant. Not even if he found his twin in the tower’s housekeeper’s attitude.
Niall at least was never mean with his words, nor did he ever attempt to undermine her with others. Whatever was going on with her estranged friend, she had hope of one day renewing their camaraderie.
The next week was one of the most convivial of Abigail’s life. She and her sister worked in her herb garden together while Gail napped in the shade. When the baby was awake, they played with her and spent more time visiting amidst Abigail’s clan.
Emily exclaimed over and over again about the friendly attitude the clan treated her with now that she was wed to someone besides their laird. “I can only think my absolute lack of desire to marry their laird showed in my every action.”