“Just get on with it,” Theo huffed, his impatience growing. “And say what ye’ve come to say. I’ve learned that it’s always best to get it out rather than keep it bottled in.”
Lavina gave a brief nod as he moved closer to her. He leaned against the stall door, fixing his keen eyes on her.
“Well, I’m nae exactly sure how to say this,” she mumbled, fidgeting with the tips of her fingers. “I guess I’ll just come right out and say it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lavina’s hands were cold despite the warmth in the stables. The scent of fresh hay mingled with the musky smell of horseflesh and oiled leather, wrapping around her like a shroud, but it did nothing to ease the tremors in her limbs.
“I…” she started as Theo’s gaze bored into her.
She felt exposed, as if he had stripped her bare before God and country.
“I’m sure whatever ye have to say is important,” he said. He tore his gaze away from her and continued mucking out the stall. “But I have work to do, and ye’re nae sayin’ anything.”
“I’m sorry,” she blurted, desperate to hold his attention.
It was almost as if she would wither away without his gaze on her. Never in all her life had she felt more nervous, not even standing before her uncle.
Her fingers curled tightly into her skirts, wringing the fabric as though it might steady the wobbling world.
She watched as Theo stood like a sentinel carved from granite. His gaze was as unreadable as it was guarded. But there was a comfort about the way he glared at her that made her hair stand on end.
“Is that so?” he asked, his voice husky and deep.
“Aye,” she answered, trying to muster the courage she needed to scrape the words off her tongue. The words stuck in her throat and tasted bitter with shame. “For accusin’ ye. I believed what I was told. But since I came here, I’ve only witnessed the complete opposite.”
Theo’s jaw ticked, but he said nothing.
The silence pressed down on her as if she were a grape. Theo’s lack of response was unsettling. She didn’t know if he just chose to remain silent or if something was lacking in her confession.
Lowering her head, she searched her heart for the truest confession she could give. Swallowing hard, she let the words come out.
“I was wrong,” she continued, forcing the words through a tightening throat. “But ye must understand, the things I was told?—”
“Who told ye?” Theo interrupted softly, pulling her out of her mood. It was the gentleness in his voice that caught her off guard.
She looked at him, expecting to find some condemnation, but discovered only curiosity and a steadiness she couldn’t understand.
“Johan, me faither’s man-at-arms. He had barged into the castle. I thought it was the storm that had rattled him, but when he looked at me with those sorrowful eyes, I kenned it wasnae the storm. And he told us, Maisie and meself, what happened to our family.”
“And ye believed him without question? There’s nay reason in yer mind to doubt his word?”
Her stomach twisted. “He’d served me faither since I was a child. He was loyal. Brave. He carried me faither’s body to his grave. He was only second to me faither, when it came to rulin’ the clan.” Her voice broke faintly, and she hated the sound of it—weak, uncertain. “He was all we had left when the dust settled.”
Theo exhaled through his nose. “Is he the Laird now?”
“Nay.” Her tone turned colder, more brittle. “That honor fell to Uncle Micah. I only wish…” She bit down the last words, but they slipped out anyway. “I only wish it had been him who had died instead.”
Rage shot through her like a sudden downpour. Her limbs went numb as she glanced over her shoulder at the open door. Guilt pummeled her.
She knew it wasn’t right to want someone’s demise, but her uncle was the exception. He was beyond cruel; he was asadist.
Just thinking of him sent an icy chill down her spine.
Her body trembled uncontrollably as her attention turned back to Theo. Something in his eyes shifted, shocking her.
Out of all the things she envisioned flashing through his mind, she had never thought to see a flicker of recognition and perhaps a hint of pain as her inner demon recognized his.
