Scarlett nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Aye. Just… thinking.”
“Of what?”
“How the rules keep changing.”
He gave a quiet sound, something between a sigh and a laugh. “Aye. Seems neither of us is very good at following them.”
She smiled faintly. “Good thing, then. I’ve never cared much for rules.”
He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch almost reverent. “Sleep now, lass.” “Will ye?” she murmured.
Robert hesitated then gathered her close until her head rested against his shoulder. “Aye,” he said softly. “I will.”
Her body softened against his, the heat between them fading into a calm that felt almost fragile. The rhythm of his breathing steadied hers until her eyes closed.
As she drifted toward sleep, one last thought lingered; she no longer knew where duty ended and desire began. And perhaps, she realized, she didn’t wish to find the line at all.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Morning came, cold and gray. The fire had burned down to embers, and the faint scent of rain still lingered in the air. Scarlett stirred beneath the quilt, blinking against the pale light filtering through the window.
For one blissful second, she forgot where she was. The warmth beside her, the weight of another body, she almost turned into it.
But the space was empty. Her eyes flew open.
Robert stood near the window, broad-shouldered and distant with his back to her. He was already dressed, tartan belted, shirt laced, boots polished to a soldier’s precision.
Her chest tightened.
“Ye’re up early,” she said softly, her voice rough with sleep. He didn’t turn. “We’ll leave within the hour.”
Scarlett sat up, clutching the quilt around her. “So soon? The rain’s only just stopped.”
“Aye,” he said, his tone clipped. “The roads will be soft but passable.”
Something in his voice, the way it sounded so impersonal, cut deeper than she wanted to admit. It was as though the night before had never happened, as though all the heat between them had burned away with the fire.
She swallowed. “Ye’ve the charm of a thundercloud this morning.”
He looked over his shoulder briefly, his face unreadable. “Dress yerself, Scarlett. I’ll see to the horses.”
And then he was gone.
The door shut softly behind him, but it might as well have slammed.
Scarlett sat still, the echo of his words hanging in the quiet. The quilt slipped from her shoulders, and the chill of the morning biting at her skin.
So that’s how it is, she thought bitterly. A kiss one night, orders the next morn.
Her throat tightened, but she forced a small, humorless smile. “Well done, Scarlett,” she muttered. “Ye’ve gone and fallen for a man who thinks feelings are a battlefield.”
She dressed quickly, tugging her now dry gown from the chair. The silver necklace caught the light, and she found her fingers brushing the green stone at its center. Once, it had felt like a promise. Now, it only reminded her how easily he’d retreated behind his walls again.
Outside, the world was still soaked. Mist clung low to the ground, and the air was still heavy with the smell of rain. Robert was already at the horse, tightening the girth on their mount. He looked up when she approached, and his eyes scanned her briefly before returning to the task.
“I could’ve managed that,” she said, keeping her tone even.
“I daenae doubt it,” he said without looking up. “But I prefer the saddle stay on.”
