The question pulled a smile to Scarlett’s lips, soft and unguarded. “Me best friend. Me sister, though nae by blood. She’s been with me since we were bairns.”
She glanced up. Robert’s face was a mask of hard lines and shadows. He didn't blink; his gaze remained locked on hers, unmoving.
Scarlett didn't let the silence break her. She kept talking. Her voice was steady, a sharp contrast to the way her pulse was hammering against her throat.
She focused on the words, pushing them into the space between them, forcing him to listen while she still had the nerve to speak.
“Edith was different,” Scarlett went on. “She’d read with me. Bring books, tell stories. She was the sister I didnae have. Her mother took me in like her own after mine passed. Edith’s where I could breathe. Where I could be meself, nae just Aaron’s sister, nae just the Gallaway lass.”
Her throat tightened, but she pressed on. “When Aaron said I must wed ye, I thought only of her. I bargained for her safety. For her place at Hallow. Without her, I’d have nae one.”
Robert shifted in his chair, his broad shoulders catching the glow. “So that’s why ye agreed so fast.”
Scarlett nodded. "I didnae think of meself. Only Edith."
"Ye’d give up yer freedom for her." It wasn't a question. It was an observation of a debt he hadn't realized she’d paid.
Scarlett gave a humorless smile. "Aye. Freedom was never mine to begin with."
The fire shifted in the grate, a log snapping and sending a shower of sparks upward. Neither of them moved to fill the silence.
Scarlett finally shifted on her chair, tucking one leg beneath her. “I’ve been rambling on about meself all night,” she said at last, “Edith this, Aaron that. Ye’ve sat there brooding, giving me nothing but stares. Seems only fair I ken something of ye too.”
Robert’s head tilted, his dark eyes fixed on her. “Ye want to ken me?”
“Aye.” She lifted her chin, feigning nonchalance though her pulse said otherwise. “If I’m to be yer wife, I’d best learn more than yer talent for silence.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, “Then ask.”
Her heart gave a leap she tried to ignore. “Fine, then. Where were ye born?”
“Here.”
She frowned. “Just… here? Gundor?”
He gave a single nod.
Scarlett tried again. “Do ye have brothers? Sisters?” “Nay.”
“God’s teeth, Robert.” Her lips parted in exasperation. “That’s all ye’ll give me? ‘Here.’ ‘Nay.’”
His mouth tugged into something that might have been amusement, but he didn’t confirm it. “Ye asked. I answered.”
“That’s nae conversation,” she shot back. “That’s a wall. I’d get more out of talking to a sheep.”
His eyes narrowed, his tone dipping into warning. “Careful, lass.”
She rolled her eyes but pushed forward. “What about yer father? Was he as brooding and impossible as his son?”
Robert’sface remained carefully schooled. “He was laird. Did his duty. Died for it.”
Scarlett hesitated, the shortness of the answer stinging more than she’d expected. “And yer mother?”
“Gone.”
“Gone?”
“Aye.”
