The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(8)

Unconsciously, her gaze scanned the crowds for a golden-blond head attached to a woman of middling height. She wondered whether she would ever be able to go where a crowd was gathered and not look for her sister—and not feel the resulting twinge of disappointment when she didn’t find her. Sir Adam begged her to stop. She was only torturing herself, he said. But even if her searches had yielded nothing, Mary couldn’t accept that her sister was gone. She would know … wouldn’t she?

She turned at a sound, seeing that a mother with two small children had come up to examine a tray of colorful ribbons on the opposite side of the table. From their clothing, she could see that they did not possess the wealth of Bureford’s typical customers. She guessed the woman to be the wife of one of the farmers. She was clearly exhausted. She held one child in her arms—a babe of about six months—and another by the hand, a little girl of three or four who was staring at the ribbons as if they were a stack of gold. When the child reached for one, her mother pulled her back. “Nay, Beth. Do not touch.”

All of a sudden another little girl peeked out from behind her skirts and wrapped her chubby little fist around a handful of the ribbons. Before the mother could stop her, she turned and darted off into the crowd.

The young woman shouted after her in a panic. “Meggie, no!” Seeing Mary standing there and obviously assuming she was the merchant, she shoved the baby in her arms and put the little girl’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry. I’ll fetch them back for you.”

It had happened so fast, it took her a moment to realize she was now holding two children. Mary didn’t know who was more shocked, she or the children. Both the baby and the little girl were staring at her with wide eyes, as if they couldn’t quite decide whether to cry.

She felt a small twinge in her chest. She remembered so precious little of those few months she’d had with David after he was born, but that look was one of them. It had terrified her. The baby had terrified her. She’d been scared of him crying, of every sound he’d made in his sleep, of how to hold him, of whether he was getting enough to eat from the wet nurse.

Of him being taken away from her.

She pushed the memory aside. That was a long time ago. She’d been so young. And now …

Now it was in the past.

But the twinge sharpened when she gazed into the baby’s soft blue eyes. David was younger than this when he was taken from her, and she didn’t think she’d held another baby since. She’d forgotten what it felt like. How they instinctively latched against your chest. The pleasant warmth, and the soft baby smell.

Apparently deciding she wasn’t a threat, the baby gave her a big, gummy smile and started to babble at her like a sheep. “Ba, ba …”

Mary couldn’t help smiling back at him. He—or she, it was impossible to tell at this age—was a cute little devil, with big blue eyes, a velvety cap of short brown hair, and bright, rosy cheeks. Brimming with healthy plumpness, he was quite an armful.

All of a sudden, she felt a tug on her hand. She looked down, having almost forgotten about the little girl. Apparently, she’d decided not to cry either. “He wants his ball.”

Mary bit her lip. She thought she was too young to be talking, but the girl possessed a confidence Mary would have envied at her age. “I’m afraid I don’t have one.” She looked around, not seeing anything that resembled a toy on the table. Recalling the coins the merchant gave her, she dug in her purse and retrieved the small leather bag. “How about this?” Holding it up before the baby, she started to shake it and was rewarded when he flapped his arms and started to laugh. He grabbed for it, and she grinned as he mimicked what she’d done by jingling it up and down, albeit with far more enthusiasm. She hoped the bag was tied tightly.

The little girl—Beth—must have read her mind. “Careful he doesn’t open it. He puts everything in his mouth—especially shiny things. He nearly choked on a farthing last week.”

Mary frowned, realizing she hadn’t thought of that. This little girl knew more about babies than she did.

She was also older than Mary had realized. “How old are you?”

“Fournahalf,” she said proudly. Reading Mary’s mind again, she added, “Da says I’m small for my age.”

Mary noticed her cast another longing glance toward the ribbons. “It’s all right,” she said. “Would you like to hold one?”

The girl’s eyes widened to enormous proportions and she nodded furiously. Not giving Mary a chance to reconsider, she immediately reached for the bright pink one embroidered with silver flowers. She took it between her tiny fingers so reverently Mary couldn’t help smiling.

“You have an excellent eye. I think you’ve picked the prettiest of the bunch.”

The child’s smile stole her breath. Longing rose up hard inside her before she tamped it firmly down. In the past …

The mother returned in a flurry of excited breathing and excuses, the wee bandit clamped firmly by the wrist. “I’m so sorry.” She placed the purloined ribbons back down on the table and relieved Mary of the baby with her newly free hand.

Mary was surprised by how much she wanted to protest. She felt suddenly … bereft.

Forcing the oddly maudlin moment aside, she managed a wry smile. “You seem to have your hands full.”