Heart in the Highlands by Heidi Kimball

Chapter Twelve

As Katie left the room in search of Charlotte, Callum finally allowed the grin he’d been holding at bay to spread across his face. He would have to learn to show some restraint in provoking her. But heaven help him, those walls she’d put up in her determination to keep him out proved to be a temptation, an invitation to Callum’s baser nature. He hadn’t meant to bait her, yet he couldn’t remember the last time he’d so enjoyed watching someone’s temper spark.

In truth, Katie’s stipulations had been more than reasonable. Her intent was clear. First and foremost, she wanted to protect their daughter. He respected that—how could he not? And second, Katie was determined to have nothing to do with him. She’d very pointedly put barriers in place to keep him from getting too close. She might have agreed to return to Scotland and live with Callum, but she had every intention of keeping him at arm’s length. And perhaps it was only his contrariness—the wanting of that which he was told he couldn’t have—but the moment she’d said he couldn’t touch her he’d thought of little else.

If anything, Callum was more attracted to Katie now than he’d been when they’d first married.

Callum turned at the sound of the door opening once more, and this time Katie was not alone. Charlotte looked very different from the last time he’d seen her. Her hair was pulled back in a neat bun, a few small curls wisping around her heart-shaped face. Her dress had been freshly pressed, and she looked very solemn. She glanced up and caught sight of him, and her smile appeared, displaying a sweet dimple just like Katie’s. His heart gave a little jerk, almost as if it were attached to the strings of a marionette and Charlotte was the puppet master.

“Hello.” She waved her little fingers at him, her face bright.

“Miss Charlotte,” he said, bowing.

She giggled.

Katie guided Charlotte over to where he stood and took a seat, pulling Charlotte into her lap. She rested one hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “You remember Mr. Callum, don’t you?” she asked gently.

Charlotte nodded and looked at him. “’Course I do. Mr. Callum helped me find Cleo.”

“Yes, he did, didn’t he?”

Callum’s throat constricted, and he knelt down in front of Charlotte, his gaze never leaving her face. But he didn’t speak. Katie deserved to tell Charlotte in her way, and he’d not interfere.

“I need to tell you some”—she cleared her throat—“happy news.” Katie fingered Charlotte’s hair, smoothing a rebellious curl.

Charlotte turned to look at her, squirming in expectation. “Mama?”

Katie swallowed, and the way she looked at Charlotte moved something deep inside Callum. His heart swelled as he witnessed the bond between mother and daughter, so sweet and pure it had a touch of the divine. In that brief moment he glimpsed what it would be like to be loved by Katie. A love so fierce and loyal, unyielding even, that he knew to have that love would truly be something. A treasure worth seeking.

He certainly wasn’t worthy of it now. But as he watched his wife and daughter, something shifted inside him. He wanted to have their love but, more than that, to be deserving of it. If he’d not already been down on his knee, surely this realization would have driven him to it.

“Do you remember when Harriet told you the story of the rabbit family?” Katie asked Charlotte.

Charlotte nodded. “Papa Rabbit, Mama Rabbit, and Baby Rabbit.”

Callum lifted his head, paying acute attention to every word spoken now.

“Yes, exactly. And you asked me whether you had a father?” Katie’s words had grown stilted.

Charlotte nodded again, and Callum’s pulse beat in his ears. How would she react when she learned the truth?

“Mr. Callum, well . . .” Katie went on, her words slow. The clock on the mantel ticked forward. “He is your father.”

Charlotte’s gaze swung abruptly toward Callum, her gaze bold and curious. She reached out and set her dimpled hands on his cheeks, staring at him, her little brow furrowed. “You are my papa?” she asked. Her fingers traced over his cheeks, almost as if she were blind and learning to recognize him by feel.

Callum nodded, a lump growing in his throat. “I am your . . . papa.” Warmth spread through his chest as he said the words aloud.

She stared at him a little while longer, and then, finally, her cheeks grew round as her mouth pushed into a wide smile. “I never knowed if I had a papa or not. Where did you be?”

He took her hands in his, chubby and small, perfectly formed. “I was far away, in the Caribbean, Charlotte. I wish I had come sooner.” He felt Katie’s gaze upon him, but he kept his eyes on Charlotte and hoped Katie knew the words were meant for her as well. “But I am happy tae be here with ye now.”

“You came back. Mama said you never would.”

Callum flinched, though he had no right to take offense. Katie truly hadn’t known whether or not he’d ever return. And, truthfully, if he hadn’t received word of his father’s stroke, he’d probably not be here now. The thought shamed him. “She didn’t know,” he said lamely.

“Why did you not give us some letters? Harriet’s sister bes far away, but she writes letters.”

Katie stiffened, and Callum briefly wondered what she’d done with the letters he’d written to her. Thrown them away? Burned them? Any sort of excuse that formed in his throat died on his tongue.

Without warning, Charlotte jumped from Katie’s lap into Callum’s arms. “I am happy you are my papa. Cleo doesn’t have a papa. When she was borned she had a mama but not a papa.” She paused, thinking. “Can you be Cleo’s papa too?”

Callum’s heart expanded, stretching and growing with every passing minute. The truth burned in his chest. Love. He did love this wee daughter of his. Loved her from the instant he’d laid eyes on her. How was it possible that he could love this bewitching little child so dearly already? Two brief meetings and she had him wrapped around her finger so that he never wanted to be parted from her. Such powerful feelings frightened him, but they also set his heart to soaring.

He held her close. “If Cleo is in need of a papa, I shall be happy to oblige.”

Charlotte wiggled her way out of his embrace. “Let’s go find Cleo,” she said, pulling at his hand. He got up and followed her but turned back and caught sight of the almost forlorn look in Katie’s eyes, as if Charlotte’s parting were permanent instead of momentary. Guilt bit through him. “Will ye come with us?” he asked.

“No, no. You go ahead.” She stood, smoothing her skirts, her back erect. “You two should have some time together, and I have plenty to do before we leave for Scotland.”

“Come, Papa!” Another tug on his hand.

The two women in his life could not have been more different. Charlotte seemed to love him already, without reservation. But with Katie, it was exactly as Lydia had said. Callum had his work cut out for him.