“Ye summoned me, me Laird,” she said.
“Aye,” he replied, his voice lower than intended as he pushed himself away from the mantle. “I thought we might take supper here, quiet, away from pryin’ eyes.”
She arched a brow slightly, stepping further into the room. “And why would that be necessary?” she asked.
He gestured vaguely toward the table set near the fire. “Because nae everythin’ needs to be for the clan to witness,” he said.
She gave a small nod. “Very well,” she said, though her tone suggested she was far from convinced. They took their seats across from one another, as servants set a feast before them.
As they ate, James looked at her, ready to ask her something that had been on his mind.
“Ye’ve been meddlin’ in me snares,” James said at last, his voice calm but direct.
Eloise stilled, though she did not look away. “I have,” she admitted plainly.
“And ye thought it wise to interfere with what feeds this castle?” he asked.
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “I thought it cruel to leave creatures sufferin’ when I could prevent it,” she replied.
He leaned forward slightly, his expression sharpening. “It’s nae cruelty,” he said. “It’s necessity.”
Eloise’s eyes flashed faintly. “Aye, and I understand necessity,” she countered. “Do ye think I daenae ken what it means to do what is necessary to survive?”
He held her gaze, “Then ye should ken better than to undo what keeps others alive,” he said.
She leaned forward in turn, “And ye should ken that survival without compassion is nay better than cruelty itself.”
James exhaled slowly, forcing his temper back into check. “Every snare I set feeds this clan,” he said, more measured now. “Every catch means one less child goin' hungry.”
Eloise’s expression softened, though she did not yield. “And every creature left to suffer means somethin' lost in the process,” she said quietly.
He shook his head. “Ye see it too simply,” he muttered.
She gave a faint, humorless smile. “And ye see it too harshly,” she replied.
They fell quiet again, though the tension between them did not ease. “Where did ye learn such stubbornness?” he asked after a moment.
Eloise let out a small breath. “From a life that gave me little choice, and from carrying guilt,” she said.
He studied her more closely then, something in her answer striking deeper than expected. “Aye,” he said quietly, “I ken that well enough.”
Their gazes held, and for the first time, there was no challenge in it, only understanding.
“Ye carry guilt?” she asked suddenly, her voice careful but certain.
He stilled at that. “We all do,” he replied.
Something shifted then. James rose slowly, moving around the table without breaking her gaze.
“And what caused such a feelin'?” she asked.
His gaze darkened, though there was no anger in it now. “Careful, lass, ye daenae command answers from me,” he murmured, his voice low.
“Why?” she challenged. “Will ye silence me for being curious about me future husband?” she teased.
He stepped closer, close enough that the heat between them felt undeniable. “Nay,” he said quietly. “I am nae yer husband and we would both be better to remember that.”
Her breath caught, “I only jest,” she whispered.
