Ewan couldn't get annoyed at his daughter, not with that cute pouty gesture her mouth was making, while she blinked at him innocently.
Instead, he chuckled, thoroughly amused. "You have a sharp mouth on you, Kathleen. I'm pleased."
He laughed, delighted when Kathleen joined in, her giggle infectious.
The little girl had expected a sharp retort, a rebuke of sorts, just as was customary from elders. But this man here, who seemed genuinely interested in them, was laughing instead.
Worse still, his laughter was surprisingly contagious—a laughter that was similar to hers and Nathaniel's.
"You are pleased that she has a sharp mouth? Mother doesn't think so," Nathaniel interjected, cutting the laughter short. Yet, the barely concealed tug at the corners of his lips revealed that he, too, was entertained by their banter.
"I doubt it," Ewan replied, his eyes widening comically as if the very thought was a revelation. "Your mother has a sharp mouth too. Have you seen her in action?"
