“I…” She faltered, words tangling. “Thank ye.”
Robert didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took the necklace back from her hand, untied the pouch, and held the chain up. “Turn,” he said simply.
Scarlett blinked. “What?”
“Turn,” he repeated, stepping closer.
Her pulse skittered. She turned slowly, her hair slipping over her shoulder. His fingers brushed the back of her neck as he fastened the clasp, rough skin against her skin, and the touch sent a shiver racing down her spine.
“There,” he said quietly, his voice warm against her ear. “Now it’s yers.”
Scarlett’s throat felt tight, her fingers rising instinctively to the stone now resting against her chest. “Ye—ye shouldnae do this.”
“Shouldnae?” His breath stirred the hair at her temple. “Why not? Ye’re me wife. If I choose to give ye something, I will.”
She turned to face him, her chin tilting stubbornly. “And what if I daenae want to owe ye?”
His mouth curved, but it wasn’t soft. “Then call it what it is—a gift. No strings. Just mine to give and yers to wear.”
Scarlett bit the inside of her cheek. The stone gleamed at her collar, a tether she hadn’t expected.
He said nothing more though his thumb lingered an instant longer on the back of her neck before he dropped his hand. Scarlett’s skin burned where he’d touched her, but the merchant, oblivious to the silent storm between them, clapped his hands together.
“A fine choice, Me Laird, Me Lady!” the man crowed, bowing so low his cap nearly toppled off. “But if yer good lady has an eye for silver, I’ve a bracelet here, dainty enough for her wrist, see?”
He scurried to the back of his stall and thrust forward a thin chain set with a row of little stones. “Garnets! Deep red to match the blush in her cheeks. Worth every coin, and I’d give ye a fair price for both.”
Scarlett blinked, mortified. “Me cheeks?—”
Robert’s brow arched, lips twitching. “Bold of ye to point that out to her face.”
The merchant flushed but rallied fast. “Oh, but beauty sells itself, aye? And if yer lady wears these together, the necklace and the bracelet, folk will think ye’ve wed a queen herself.”
Scarlett scoffed softly. “Or a magpie, more like.”
Unperturbed, the man reached again, this time pulling out a pair of earrings shaped like little teardrops. “Or perhaps these? Fine craftsmanship. Every lass in the village will envy her.”
Robert glanced at Scarlett, who was glaring daggers at the poor man, her arms crossed tight around her pigments. He turned back, voice flat but final. “We’ll take only the necklace.”
The merchant hesitated, weighing whether to press further, then caught the look in Robert’s eyes and thought better of it. “As ye say, Me Laird. The necklace alone, then.” He bowed again, muttering, “A pity, though, it would’ve made a set fit for royalty.”
Scarlett swallowed and pulled herself together, wrapping the only shield she had, sarcasm, around her like armor. “Well,” she said briskly, “if ye keep buying me trinkets every time I blink, I’ll soon look like a Christmas goose.”
Robert’s brow arched. “A fine goose, then.” Scarlett gaped. “Did ye just call yer wife a goose?” “Aye. But a prized one.”
Despite herself, laughter bubbled from her lips. She smacked his arm lightly with the back of her hand. “Ye’re daft.” “And ye’re blushing,” he countered.
She spluttered, heat flooding her cheeks. “I am nae!”
He only gave a low chuckle, smug and infuriating.
They moved on, but Scarlett noticed every glance from the women in the market now. One lingered by a cloth stall, fluttering her lashes, and another all but thrust a basket of apples into Robert’s path. He ignored them, his gaze never shifting from Scarlett, but her belly still twisted.
She hugged her pigments tighter and muttered, “Seems the whole village is lined up to take their turn.”
Robert glanced at her sideways, his smirk returning. “And ye’re still not jealous?”
“I am nae,” she insisted though her voice cracked. “I simply pity them.”
