Page 101 of Her Accidental Highlander Husband

“It’s just so.” She held it to her chest. “They are wonderful, Cam. Truly.” She placed a kiss on his cheek, and for once the dowager didn’t make a disgruntled sound at their affection.

He picked up another package and took it over to the older woman. Bending down, he placed it on her lap.

Mari had never seen the woman so startled. Cam had shocked the perpetual frown right from her face. It brought a smile to Mari’s lips.

“What are you about?” The frown was back, but Mari could tell the woman was touched.

“Open it and see.”

A wooden carving tumbled out into her lap.

“I know you like to watch the birds in the mornings. You have a special place for the red ones,” Cam noted.

“It’s a horrible likeness,” she said, though her lips were pressed into an indulgent expression. Cam laughed, unaffected by her words. “Really, you shouldn’t have bothered.”

“Well, I did, so you’ll just have to like it.”

The woman tried her best not to, but a slight smile tugged up her lips when Cam bent to kiss the top of her head.

“Impertinent brute.” She swatted at him.

“Miserable goat.” He winked at her.

As promised, Cam launched into the tale of how his father had taught him to carve, and from there the rest of the evening was spent with them sharing stories.

“Your sister sounds like a hoyden,” the dowager said matter-of-factly.

“That is a right description, Your Grace,” Mari agreed. “But she is the most wonderful person imaginable. She told me once that when she reaches the end of her days, she will have no regrets, for she will have lived fully.” Mari let out a breath, missing her sister dearly.

“Would that we could all live in such a way. But some of us have obligations. Duties to fulfill.”

“Surely you don’t still feel obligated to the Endsmere name?” Cam asked, no doubt insulting her yet again. “’Tis not even a real person, but merely a title. What has it ever done for ye?”

The dowager turned the little red bird over in her fingers. “It’s not just a title. It’s my very existence.”

“He didn’t mean to say—” Mari began.

“No, I heard him clearly. And he’s right. When I’m gone, I’ll be but a portrait in the gallery, whereas your sister will be talked about for ages as the woman who faced down the English army and invited them for tea.”

Mari smiled at the story she’d just told. The observation was true enough.

“There’s still time to create some fine stories about your own life,” Cam offered the dowager. “In fact, we’re doing so right now. They’ll all tell tales of the brave dowager duchess who was forced to spend her holiday with a Scottish war chief.”

If Mari didn’t know better, she might have thought the sound that came from the dowager was a laugh. It was a dry, rusty kind of sound. But the dowager rarely laughed, and when she did, it was never from joy or humor.

“Just so,” she said, and cleared her throat before calling out for Parkes.

Mari expected the dowager wanted to return to her room and required assistance, but instead she remained seated as she doled out an order to the butler. “Bring it in now. Hurry along,” she snapped.

The man left, and a moment later he returned carrying something bulky. It was placed on the floor at Mari’s feet.

Suddenly, she realized what it was. A gasp left her as she gazed misty-eyed at the beautifully scrolled wood curving into the legs of a cradle. A large M had been carved into the headpiece.

Even Cam made a sound of surprise.

“It is indeed lovely. Thank you for such a perfect gift,” Cam said. He must have realized Mari couldn’t yet find words.

This was beyond anything the dowager had done for Mari in the past. It wasn’t an heirloom brought down from the attic and brushed off. It was new and must have been ordered weeks ago.