Bashfully retreating to his chair, Daniel said, “I thought you might like it—in case you got homesick.”
“It’swonderful. Thank you, Daniel!” Her face glowing with happiness, she angled the painting toward Gregory and pointed at the house. “He’s captured the place perfectly, including the way the mountain looms over it.” She threw a smiling glance at Daniel. “You’ve got the atmosphere exactly right.”
Studying the painting, what Gregory saw was a lot of gloomy, rather dour shadows. The house appeared…well, the word that sprang to his mind wassevere. Then again, he’d seen houses in that area of Scotland, and they did tend to share that anchored-in-the rock, shuttered-against-the-harsh-winters-and-wild-storms look.
The scrape of chair legs on the floor signaled Melrose, Tristan, and Hugo coming to their feet, but instead of slipping out of the door and heading to the conservatory, all three quickly circled the table to stand in a line behind Caitlin’s chair and study the painting she was still marveling over.
Gregory watched and waited, curious as to what the painters’ verdicts would be.
For a full minute, in complete silence, all three stared at the painting, completely absorbed as they drank it in.
Then something changed. Hugo drew in a long, deep breath and raised his gaze to look at Daniel. “How long have you been drawing and painting?”
Lightly, Daniel shrugged. “Ever since I was a child.” He glanced across the table at Rory. “Our mother was an artist. She taught me.”
“Well, she taught you damned well,” Tristan breathed. “This isfabulous.”
Melrose shook himself as if freeing himself of the painting’s spell. “I say—you’ll have to join us.” Face alight, he looked at Daniel. “We paint and draw, too. We must show you the ruins—you’ll love them.”
Tristan, Hugo, and Melrose left their position to congregate around Daniel.
Within seconds, the group were deep in a discussion of matters painterly.
Rory and Hamish ignored the exclamations and explanations and stoically polished off their breakfasts.
Gregory returned to sipping his coffee and watching Caitlin’s face.
Eventually, she raised her gaze to the gaggle of painters and, after listening to their paean of mutual admiration for several moments, smiled fondly. Then she looked at Gregory.
He had no idea what she read in his expression, but she leaned closer and murmured, just for him, “Yes, I do miss it, but that doesn’t mean I’m pining to go back.” She looked at the painting. “I have a lot of good memories of the place and of my parents there, but this”—she raised the framed painting—“is my past.” She met his eyes. “My future lies here. Of that, I’m sure.”
He smiled, relieved, reassured, and frankly amazed that she’d seen his sudden panic, much less understood what had been behind it. Watching her gazing so raptly at the picture of her home had sent vulnerability spiking through him, occasioned by a road-to-Damascus epiphany of just how much she meant to him and to everyone else at the Hall. Yes, they were an eclectic bunch, and she was the one who held them all together; she was the Hall’s lynchpin without whom they would find it impossible to function.
Daniel had risen and joined the other three, who were imploring him to go with them to the conservatory. He cast an uncertain glance at Caitlin and Gregory.
Caitlin waved him off. “Go, go! Cromwell will have a room prepared for you, and Melrose, Hugo, and Tristan will bring you to the dining room in time for luncheon.”
Daniel grinned his thanks and turned to the other three, and in short order, the four departed for more artistic surrounds.
“Well,” huffed Rory, once the foursome was out of earshot, “no need to show Daniel around the estate’s businesses. He’s already found the one he can contribute to.”
Caitlin and Hamish nodded, and Hamish added, “He’ll do well, too. We always knew he had it in him. He just needs the right sort of encouragement, and the chances are, he’ll find it here.”
“Indeed.” Caitlin set down the painting and pushed back her chair. “And with that settled, I’d better get on with my day.”
Gregory put his hand on her wrist, and she stopped before getting to her feet. “A moment, if you would.” He looked at Hamish and Rory as the pair set down their knives and forks and mopped their lips with their napkins. “You two as well.”
Hamish’s and Rory’s expressions suggested they were all ears.
Gregory chose his words with some care. “None of you were all that surprised by Daniel’s arrival.”
Rory snorted. “It was odds on that Da would send him, and we all hoped he would so Daniel could get away as well. Our father’s a stubborn bugger—we’ve all told you that. He’ll cling to the hope that something’s just delayed me and Hamish, and if he just holds out for a little while longer and does one more thing—like sending Daniel after us—everything will fall out as he wants.”
“I see.” Gregory met Rory’s and Hamish’s gazes. “I would like to hear your thoughts on the likelihood of us finding ourselves facing your father sometime soon.”
Hamish grimaced. “That’s harder to say.”
“Aye,” Rory agreed. “When Daniel doesn’t come back, likely the scales will finally fall from Da’s eyes, and he’ll be ropable. But will he come after us?” The big man shrugged. “Who can say?”
