Alex choked on his ale.
Ennis pretended to be fascinated with his meal and Alex coughed. Sybella believed a quick change of subject was in order.
“If ye are finished with your meal, Anabel, do ye want to see the gardens?”
“If ye see the dolt who pulled my roses, tell me, Sybella,” said Aunt Iseabail, waving her finger. “Who knows what that beast will target next!”
“I will be sure to let ye know if I see him, Aunt.” She looked at Alex, and his eyes widened.
He leaned in close. “I thought she would have forgotten by now,” he whispered.
“I donna think that is going to happen anytime soon.” Sybella stood and held out her hand to Anabel. “Come, Anabel, and I will show ye Lady Iseabail’s bonny flowers.”
The girl jumped out of her seat. “Aye! I would love to!” She turned toward her father.
“’Tis all right, but ye stay close and listen to Lady Sybella.”
“Aye, Papa,” said Anabel, exasperated. Turning like a whirlwind, she shook Sybella’s hand. “Let us take our leave.”
Sybella walked leisurely through the garden hand in hand with Anabel. When the girl swung their hands, Sybella couldn’t help but smile. What she wouldn’t give to be that young and innocent again. Her biggest concern would’ve been spying on Colin. A little voice pulled her from her musings.
“Do ye like it here, Sybella, or do ye want to come home?” asked Anabel with a serious look on her face.
Sybella smiled warmly. “I will always miss ye and Kintail, but Glengarry is now my home.”
“But donna ye miss us?”
Sybella knelt down, turning Anabel to face her. “Of course I do, but I am now wed and my place is beside my husband.” Something in that statement gnawed at Sybella’s gut. She continued to speak in a soothing tone while she rubbed Anabel’s arms. “I told ye before I wed that doesnae mean ye cannae come to visit and that I cannae come to visit with ye. Ye arenae that far away. Do ye understand?”
The young girl became thoughtful for a moment and then she nodded. “Do ye love your husband? I heard Papa say that Laird MacDonell was our enemy before. Why? What did he do?”
“Anabel, ye shouldnae be worried about such things. Ne’er get involved in the ways of men. Who knows what goes on in their minds? Look at your brothers.”
Anabel giggled. “Aye, they are naught but a bunch of arses.”
“Anabel! Those arenae proper words for a young lady to say. Where did ye hear that?”
Anabel covered her mouth with her hand. “My apologies, Sybella. I heard ye call your brother that.”
Sybella stood and brushed off her skirts. “Well, I’m sure it was naught that wasnae deserved,” she mumbled under her breath.
The young girl ran from flower to flower, sniffing, touching, and spinning around. She was a bundle of pent-up energy. A dark cloud rumbled overhead, signaling that a change in weather was certainly going to curtail the moment. The first drop of rain hit Sybella’s brow, and she had just opened her mouth to speak when the skies blackened and buckets of rain pelted her in the face.
Anabel bolted around the corner of the flower bed and fell on the ground at Sybella’s feet. Sybella helped the poor girl stand, her dress covered in mud. In the middle of the storm, Anabel looked down at her ruined clothes and started to cry.
“Papa will be so angry at me for soiling my dress,” Anabel sobbed, holding out her skirts.
Anabel’s troubled expression pulled at Sybella’s heart as she stood in the middle of the garden with her dripping hair hanging in her face. Without giving it a second thought, Sybella bent over and picked up a handful of mud, wiping muck over her own dress.
“What are ye doing?” asked Anabel with widened eyes.
“He cannae be angry at us both. ’Tis only dirt.” She grabbed Anabel’s hand and they ran for shelter, slipping and sliding on the soggy ground.
They sprang into the great hall, a welcome site, and their breathing was labored. Sybella looked at the watery trail left behind them and called for a maid.
“What the he…Er, what happened?”
Sybella lifted her eyes to see Alex standing there, flanked by Anabel’s father. With both hands on her hips, she confronted them. “We were caught in the rain.”
“And what? Fell in the mud? Ye two are covered in muck,” said Alex in a partially scolding tone.
She thought she detected laughter in his eyes, and then he winked at her broadly.
Anabel lowered her head. “’Tis all my fault, Laird MacDonell. Please donna be cross with Syb…er, Lady MacDonell. I fell in the mud and knew Papa would be angry with me, so Lady MacDonell put mud on her dress, too. I beg ye nae to scold her. I should be the one who is punished.”
Sybella was about to speak when Alex knelt in front of Anabel. “Lady Anabel, ye should be commended for your bravery in speaking the truth. Know that I could ne’er punish a lass for speaking honestly, nay matter what the circumstances. Your word is your bond. When ye are truthful, ye are respected for your honesty. When ye donna tell the truth, ye are deceitful and donna earn the right of respect. And I most certainly respect ye for all of your honesty, Lady Anabel.”
He stood and patted the girl on the shoulder. “Now the two of ye get to your baths.”
Ennis escorted Anabel to her room, and as soon as Sybella lifted her muddied skirts, Alex leaned in close. “We will discuss your punishment later, Ella.” There was an invitation in the depths of his eyes, and Sybella was enthralled by what she saw.
“Aye, my laird, I have been verra, verra bad,” she said in a sultry voice.
Her intent was to give her husband a taste back of what he always insinuated. What she did not expect was to see his eyes darken, a muscle tick at his jaw, and his kilt tent in apparent arousal. Praise the saints. Why was her mouth suddenly so dry?
“Pray excuse me while I seek my bath.” She nervously stepped around him.
“Do ye need me to wash your back?”
She froze and then turned, merely lifting her brow.
Alex watched the muddied temptress walk away. His wife was indeed still a child at heart, and even her walk had a sunny cheeriness. His smile broadened in approval. The woman he’d married was compassionate enough to ruin her own dress to save the feelings of a little girl. He began to think perhaps he was wrong about the dreaded MacKenzies—well, one of them in particular.
“Alexander, there ye are. I have been looking everywhere for ye,” said Aunt Iseabail. She looked flustered.
“I have been here.”
“I can see that now, Nephew. I wanted to tell ye something…” She tapped her finger to her lip. “It seems to have slipped my mind again. Damn, Nephew. Donna get old. Ye will nae like it.”
Alex wrapped his arm around Aunt Iseabail’s shoulders. “Ye arenae old. I told ye before. Ye will more than likely outlive us all.”
“’Tis bothering me. I know I had something of importance to tell ye.”
“Donna think upon it. I find that if I think upon something else, my first thought will come back eventually.”
“I suppose. Where is the bonny little lass?” she asked, looking around the great hall.
Alex chuckled and rolled his eyes. “She and Sybella were caught in a storm, and the mud got the best of them. They are seeking baths as we speak.”
“Annie is such a bonny lass. I hope ye and Sybella soon have enough bairns to fill our table for the noon meal.”
“Anabel is quite lovely. I’m sure in good time when the gods are willing to bless us with a—”
“And I told ye, Nephew. Donna leave it to the gods. Are ye at least trying to get your wife with child?”