Chapter Eighteen

It was a minor victory to keep Kaid from his nightmares.

A far bigger victory awaited Delilah in helping his people.

She pressed her hand to her brow to shield the glare of the sun and watched two boys dash across the lawn near the orphanage. After bringing them the remnants of the noonday meal, Delilah had stayed to assist Aida any way she could. After all, the young woman had her work well laid out for her with so many children.

The air was tinged with the mustiness of sweat and the lushness of a new day after a night of rain. It was a smell which lightened her heart and yet burdened her shoulders all at once.

She could save them.

All of them.

If she played Elizabeth for MacKenzie.

If she turned her back on Sylvi and Liv and Isabel and Percy—the ultimate betrayal.

A boy across the field took up a stick and brandished it like a sword toward a younger boy who was held between two others. The disconcerting scene intruded on Delilah’s thoughts and she quickly made her way toward them.

“Take that, ye filthy MacLeod,” the older boy bellowed in a nasty growl and plunged the stick toward the younger one’s armpit so it seemed to penetrate his chest.

Delilah stopped short in horror.

The younger boy collapsed to the ground in a dramatic death. “Dinna hurt my wife.” His head dropped to the side, and he went still.

Aida rushed past Delilah toward the boys and bent at the waist to speak to them. Delilah could not hear what she said, but could tell Aida was not rebuking them for their gruesome display. With a pat on the back for each of them, the boys disbanded in pursuit of other activities.

Aida straightened with the stick in her hand and cast Delilah a woeful, apologetic smile that was altogether too tired for a woman so young. “They dinna know what to make of it all,” Aida offered in a sad tone. “They saw more than children ever should.”

Delilah nodded silently. Aida patted her shoulder in the same manner as she’d done to the boys, and turned back toward the orphanage.

How could any woman endure such heartbreak daily?

Something warm brushed against Delilah’s fingers before sliding against her palm. She found Claire standing beside her, her hand clasping Delilah’s.

Claire gave a shy smile. “I’m Claire,” she said in a very little voice.

“I’m…” Delilah caught herself. “I’m Elizabeth.”

Claire’s lips screwed up toward the left side of her cheek, and she studied Delilah with unabashed curiosity. “Are ye an angel?”

Delilah shook her head.

“Ye look like my ma,” Claire said in an awestruck whisper. “I thought ye might be her angel since ye said ye werena her.”

The girl’s voice was so small, so hopeful that it left emotion crowding in Delilah’s chest. “I’m sorry to not be. I would very much love to have a daughter like you.”

Claire’s hand in hers was growing overly hot and sweaty, but Delilah had no intention of breaking the tender hold.

“I think ye’d be a verra good ma,” Claire said with a bashful glance at the ground. “Because ye’re pretty and ye’re nice.”

“Is that what makes a good mother, then?” Delilah asked with a laugh.

The girl’s lips twisted in thought once more. “I think the nice more so than the pretty,” she conceded earnestly.

“Was your mother like that?” Delilah asked.

Claire’s fingers tightened and for a moment, Delilah wondered if it’d been wrong to ask such a question.

“Would ye like to hear about her?” The afternoon sun lit Claire’s hair like glowing gold. If anyone were the angel, it was she.

“Very much so,” Delilah answered.

And the girl talked then—talked and talked and talked, as all little girls do, detailing the way her mother looked, and smelled, and even sang. Every bit of the dead woman was told in an unending speech only a child who truly loved her mother could give.

The two of them walked around and through the orphanage together, hand in sweaty hand, and chatted until the sky began to darken. The onset of evening found them in large, comfortable chairs in front of the fire, where it was warm and snug.

Claire gave a mighty yawn, revealing a missing bottom tooth, where the white flecks of another coming into its place were visible.

“Are you getting sleepy?” Delilah asked.

Claire nodded. “May I sit with ye?” Even as she asked the question, she was already climbing into Delilah’s lap.

Delilah had cradled her own young siblings before and now marveled at the ability of all children to comfortably snuggle themselves into a willing lap. Claire’s legs lay over Delilah’s, and her head rested just under Delilah’s chin.

Claire grasped Delilah’s arm and pulled it over her shoulders, like one would do with a blanket on a cold night. Delilah smiled and held the girl in her embrace for a long while, even when the child’s silky golden hair tickled at her chin.

“My ma protected me when the MacKenzies came,” Claire whispered, so quietly, Delilah had almost not heard it. “She stepped in front of me so the men wouldna see me. She was verra brave.” Her voice caught, and so did something in Delilah’s chest.

Claire’s hand blindly found Delilah’s and folded around it. “When she died, she told me she loved me, and she…” A slight tremble of the girl’s body told Delilah she was crying. “She told me she’d send an angel to protect me because she knew she was going to die.”

Her crying was not so silent then. It came in hiccupping sobs that bled hot and wet against Delilah’s chest and deep into her soul. She held the child while she wept, and could no sooner stop the tears from silently tracing down her own cheeks than she could stop the shell of her heart from breaking.

• • •

The sky was black with night and still Delilah was missing.

Kaid paced his solar, waiting for Leasa to arrive. Surely she had to know something about her mistress.

If he hadn’t been so busy during the day, he’d have kept an eye on Delilah himself. The last damn thing he needed was for her to run off. He needed her for his plan to work.

But it was more than that.

After spending so many weeks with her, seeing her every day, speaking with her every day—the idea of her no longer in his life was incomprehensible and left him feeling…

He grasped at the fragile emotion and pulled it closer to his heart to identify it.

Empty.

Life without Delilah seemed somehow empty.

He stared out into the darkness once more. Would she truly have left? Perhaps that was why she’d given him such a quiet kiss the night before, a final goodbye.

And it was at such damnable timing.

MacKenzie’s letter lay on the desk, his acceptance scrawled in a bold script. He would return Kaid’s father’s sword and allow peace to reign between the two clans.

Not that Kaid trusted that peace.

But if Delilah had left and he had no bride to offer, surely it would be an immediate invitation to war.

A knock sounded at the door, and his heart lurched.

“Enter,” he said even as he strode toward the door to pull it open.

Leasa was there, her cheeks rosy and her hair shining. She’d abandoned the silly English gown she’d arrived in for a more comfortable homespun dress one of the MacLeod ladies had provided. The lass had taken well to life in Ardvreck Castle.

She entered the room and Donnan followed.

“Have ye seen Delilah?” Kaid asked in English.

“She’s at the orphanage.” Leasa cast a hesitant look toward Donnan. “Is something wrong?”

Kaid did not answer. He was already out the door and on his way to the large stone building where the orphans were housed, hoping all the way he’d truly find Delilah there.

Aida opened the door for him when he arrived.

He entered and scanned the large main room where several older children lingered. “Is Elizabeth here?” he asked.

Aida indicated the chairs near the fireplace. “I was wondering when ye’d come for her.”

The grip of fear on Kaid’s heart relaxed into relief.

He followed Aida toward the large hearth and found Delilah sitting with Claire in her arms. The child was snuggled against her and fast asleep, one thumb tucked in her mouth.

It was the kind of scene which told Kaid what kind of a mother Delilah might make, and for the quickest of moments, he wondered what she might look like cradling their child.

Aida held out her arms. “I’ll take her to her bed.”

Delilah hesitated and looked down at the child tenderly. “Are you sure?”

“Aye.” Aida bent over Delilah and scooped the sleeping Claire into her arms. The girl snuffled and turned her head to the side before falling still once more. “She’ll be fine,” Aida said in a reassuring whisper.

Delilah nodded and offered a weak smile. She waited until Aida was gone before she looked up at Kaid. She tried to say his name, but it came out in a choked sob.

Kaid was at the chair’s side in a single step. He reached toward Delilah, but she stopped him.

She closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath in and out. After a moment, her eyes opened, and she rose with all the elegance she’d ever possessed.

“Let’s get ye back to the castle, aye?” Kaid placed a hand at the narrow dip of her lower back and led her toward the door. It was a slight touch, barely enough to allow the delicate heat of her body to tease his fingertips.

She was clearly upset and everything in him wanted to comfort her. He wanted to hold her in his arms and let the breaking of her heart wash against his chest.

But his Delilah was a proud woman.

His Delilah.

He had no right to call her as much, and yet he could no more stop the thought than he could stop his heart from beating.

Delilah allowed him to lead her from the room into the cold night. The wind stirred the trees in a quiet rustle.

“Is everything well with ye?” Kaid asked.

She pressed trembling fingers to her lips. “That poor child. All of them. Those poor children.”

She nodded toward the trail in silent indication that they should go on.

Kaid took her hand and guided it to the crook of his arm, the kind of thing an English gentleman might do, true, but it was a comfort he knew she would allow.

They walked in silence all the way back to Ardvreck, the wind chilling their faces and the moon lighting their path.

When the castle gates appeared before them, Delilah stopped and turned to face him, her expression fierce. “I’ve made my decision.” She caught his hands in hers and gave them a hearty squeeze. “I don’t care what it costs me, I will help you.”