That earned a small laugh even from Isabelle, though she quickly turned away to busy herself with arranging ribbons on the mantel.
Declan pretended not to notice the flush that rose on her neck.
“Aye, well,” he said, pretending to sigh, “then I best mind me ways, else I’ll be facin’ both their wrath.”
“Ye always look funny when ye pretend to be scared,” Penelope said, giggling. “But Lady Isabelle says real courage is bein’ kind even when it’s hard.”
Isabelle froze mid-motion, eyes flicking toward him again, clearly startled the child had repeated her words.
Declan’s throat tightened. “Did she now?” he murmured, voice rougher than he meant. “Then she’s a wise woman, lass.”
The girls went back to their decorating, clambering over the chairs and arguing cheerfully about where each ribbon should go. Declan stood nearby, occasionally lifting one of them to reach higher branches, his large hands careful not to crush their work.
Isabelle hovered near the hearth, gathering fallen leaves and bits of twine, every movement graceful, quiet. Their eyes met again and again, glances heavy with all the words neither dared to speak.
Hallie tugged his sleeve again. “Da, look! We made a star for the top!” She held up a star crafted from twigs and gold thread, lopsided but gleaming proudly.
Declan smiled. “It’s perfect,” he said softly, crouching to her level.
Declan held her gaze, his chest tightening. There were no words that could bridge the gulf he’d built, but somehow, her look told him she still wanted to try.
Beth broke the silence with a delighted cry.
“It’s snowin’ again!” She ran to the window, pressing her hands to the frosted glass. “Da, come see!”
Declan followed, resting a hand on her shoulder as they all gathered to watch the gentle flakes fall outside. Isabelle stood beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her arm through her sleeve and smell her scent.
For a long moment, neither moved. The snow swirled softly beyond the glass, the children’s laughter filling the hall like music.
Declan’s hand brushed Isabelle’s as they both leaned forward, and she didn’t pull away this time. Their fingers grazed, a fleeting touch, but it was enough to set his heart pounding.
He wanted to say her name, to tell her he was sorry, to confess every foolish thought that kept him from her bed.
He heard the faint shuffle of boots behind him before the soft cough reached his ears. He turned to see Liam standing near the doorway of the great hall.
“Aye, lassies, I must take me leave,” he said, his tone gentle as his eyes flickered toward Isabelle, lingering a heartbeat longer than they should have.
Hallie’s small hand tugged at his sleeve, her eyes wide and hopeful.
“Ye’ll come see the decorations when they’re all done, Da?” she asked.
Declan’s expression softened despite the weight of duty pressing on him.
“Aye, I’ll nae miss it for the world,” he promised before stepping back, nodding once toward Isabelle, their gaze meeting in a silent exchange that carried both warmth and ache.
Then, with a breath meant to steady himself, he turned and motioned for Liam to follow.
As they walked down the corridor, Liam leaned close and lowered his voice.
“Me Laird, word has just come from the far east of our lands,” he murmured, eyes flicking around to ensure no one else could hear.
“The bandits passed through a village near Glenfaring two nights past. The folk said there was a woman with them—unknown, cloaked, and travel-worn.”
Declan frowned, his steps slowing as his mind worked through the implications.
“A woman?” he echoed, his brow furrowing deeper. “What manner of woman rides with thieves?”
His voice carried suspicion and a hint of unease.
