“There are hundreds of merchants in our grand city.” Henry got to his feet and stretched his stubby arms. “We’re bound to find one to your liking.”
“We are delighted to have ye visit us,” her aunt said after Henry left. “But what is your plan, child, if ye don’t intend to marry?”
Glynis had intended to be the spinster relative who grew old in the attic.
“Surely ye didn’t come here expecting to live with us forever?” her aunt asked, pinching her brows together.
Glynis sat up straight. In the Highlands, hospitality was a sacred duty. It was unthinkable to toss out any guest, let alone one who was also a close relation. One suffered with them as long as one had to.
“I apologize,” Glynis said, feeling her face go hot. “I did not realize I would be imposing.”
“All we want is for ye to be happy, but for that, a woman needs a husband,” her aunt said, giving her a sweet smile. “And the wealthier he is, the happier you’ll be.”
“Are ye expecting this wealthy husband to help support Father Thomas’s ambitions?” Glynis asked.
“That would be an added blessing, of course.” Her aunt patted her hand. “We don’t want to go to the moneylenders again.”
* * *
The bright sun hurt Claire’s eyes, but it felt good on her face. She could not remember the last time she had been outside. She was high above the people on the street, sitting on the shoulders of the man with the laughing eyes.
S-o-r-ch-a. She practiced the name the man had given her in her head. Grandmère had only called her Claire when she was angry—her real name was ma chère. But perhaps she was wrong. When Grandmère first gave her the doll, she had called Marie by different names until she had found the right one.
The man spoke to her in words that were familiar, and sometimes she tried to understand what he was saying. But she had grown accustomed to listening for other things in voices. She knew from the rise in the old woman’s voice when she was going to slap her.
But the man’s big, deep voice made her happy.
* * *
Alex carried the child on his shoulders to keep people from stepping on the wee thing.
“Ye see that water in the distance?” he asked, turning around and pointing. “That’s the Firth, where the boat ye came on sailed into Edinburgh. Did ye like sailing?”
When he looked up her, she nodded. Since the child needed to learn Gaelic, he said everything to her first in French and then in Gaelic.
“We are going to say good-bye to a friend of mine before we leave,” he said, starting up the hill again. “It won’t take long.”
As anxious as he was to leave the city, he needed to see that Glynis was happily settled with her aunt. At least that was what he was telling himself.
When they reached the house, he set Sorcha on her feet. It seemed much longer than a day since he had stood before this red door with Glynis. At his knock, the same maid as yesterday answered it.
“I’ve come to speak to Mistress Glyn—”
He stopped when he saw Glynis descending the stair, looking as fresh as a spring breeze in a pale green gown. The only sign of surprise she showed at seeing him with a wee girl holding his hand was a slight widening of her eyes.
“Glynis, this is my daughter.”
Alex waited for her to call him a philanderer, a sinner, or worse.
“I can see that she is,” Glynis said with a light in her eyes. She leaned down with a warm smile and touched Sorcha’s shoulder. “What’s your name, child?”
“She doesn’t speak,” he said.
“She has no Gaelic?” Glynis asked, looking up at him.
“Her mother was French, so she has no Gaelic,” he said. “But what I meant is that she has not yet said a word of any kind.”
“Where is her mother?” Glynis asked in a soft voice.