“He is the best dancer. Every cèilidh, he always ensures we share at least two dances.”
The Laird dancing? That, she would like to see.
“Maybe his partner incites him more than she realizes,” she teased and tapped her nose, to which Keira responded by playfully swatting at her hand, but her blush was very real. She loved her father more than Violet had expected.
Violet did not know the man that much to form an opinion on his personality, but from what she had gathered, he seemed to… care for his family more than the average man did, which was not much. So by her calculations, he cared an appropriate amount. But their faces told a different tale.
The Laird was becoming quite… intriguing.
A small part of her wanted to experience these ‘truths’ herself. She wanted to come upon him in a dark passage, in the midst of trading sweets for money—presumably. She wanted to be present during the next cèilidh so she could watch him twirl his daughter around and maybe, if he were courteous enough, experience herself being spun in his arms.
She frowned. Dancing was practically announcing their engagement. How had she let herself forget she was only buying herself time before she could leave his castle?
She still did not have a plan. Where she would go, she did not know. Whether she would run away or convince Ruaridh to break off the engagement remained undecided. For now, she was a poor strumpet who could not afford an escape and whose reputation was too damaged to even fathom an escape.
She felt a sour taste on her tongue and washed it away with a sip of warm tea. “Did he always dance with your mother?”
“I daenae ken.”
“Keira’s maither passed shortly after she was born,” Grannie Ava interjected.
“I am so sorry, I didn’t know.”
“That’s why me faither hates the English.” The look in Keira’s eyes was fierce, befitting of a laird’s daughter but not appropriate for her age. “She was killed in an ambush by them.”
Violet touched her arm. “Ye must hate me too.”
Keira shook her head. “I never believed me faither would ever marry again, but when he announced his engagement to ye, I was thrilled, because it was ye. I cannae hate every Englishman because of a few bad people, the same way I cannae hate every Scotsman after me grandmaither denies me treats I rightfully deserve.”
Violet regarded her with a fond smile that always seemed present around the girl.
Suddenly, dread crept up her spine. She was beginning to like it here. She was beginning to like Grannie Ava and feel maternal towards Keira. She was letting herself get distracted by their kindness.
What she needed was not their kindness, but freedom. She deserved it, not to be thrown from one man to another.
“Nay more talk about Ruaridh,” Grannie Ava announced, clapping her hands together. “Today is about ye.”
“What do ye mean?”
“We daenae spend our time frolicking and havin’ picnics. Keira has too much to learn, and I have too much to do. I want ye to feel welcome here. I want us to get to ken each other. When ye marry Ruaridh, Keira will become yer daughter. I believe ye two should start bonding.”
“Violet!” Violet looked up from her plate, Ruaridh’s voice startling her. “Come with me.”
He had already turned away when she rose and huffed, “Will you always be this abrasive?”
He halted at the center of the dining hall. “I thought ye were keen to accomplish the tasks on yer list?”
Right, the fake list she had created to buy herself time. Who would have known it would bite her in the buttocks like this? One would prefer a calming stroll after breakfast, not being bossed about by a vagrant before the morning sun fully reached its peak.
“Not so much that I abandon decency.” She crossed her arms and sank into her seat, then turned her gaze away. “Invite me properly, then I shall come with you.”
Keira’s giggles were muffled but loud enough to break the ensuing silence, while the cogs in Ruaridh’s head were as loud as a steam engine. Whether he was angry or thinking, she did not know. Still, she kept averting her gaze, refusing to cave first to the brimming awkwardness.
Eventually, he sighed.
Her chin should not have been able to rise higher, but it did. The left corner of her lips quirked up in a victorious smile.
“Forgive me.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm. “Miss Violet Wilkinson, do ye care to accompany me this mornin’?”
