“Are ye determined to be difficult?”
“Aye. It keeps me alert.”
Violet looked toward the teacup and then away. The bitterness lingered on her tongue. If she opened her mouth too wide, she feared old memories would come out instead of words.
Connor met her gaze. “Ye need rest.”
“I didnae ask for rest.”
“Nay.” His voice lowered. “Ye asked me to stay.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Aye.”
“Ye daenae need to do anything to thank me.”
Violet stared at him. The words were careful. Too careful. He had put distance into them, as if he were setting a blade aside before she cut herself with it.
“To thank ye?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“Is that what ye think this is?”
“I think ye are frightened and tired.”
“I am many things.” She lifted her chin. The linen slipped at one shoulder, and she caught it quickly. “Grateful isnaethe one making me ask ye to stay.”
His jaw ticked. “Then say what is.”
The answer waited behind her teeth and refused to come out.
She wanted him to stay because he had held her upright in the market. Because he had been angry when she lied and because he had closed his eyes when she stepped into the bath.Because when the old fear rushed back, his voice could still make her want to argue.
But then, saying any of that didn’t sound safe.
Connor turned back to the door. “Dress, Violet.”
The dismissal struck hard.
“Ugh, ye understand nothing,” she snapped.
He did not respond.
“Ye are the most annoying person I have ever met,” she growled.
He kept his hands behind his back. “And ye are hardly a simple matter.”
“I didnae ask to be simple.”
“Nay. Ye prefer to be impossible. I can see that clearly now.”
Violet swallowed, feeling the anger bubble within her despite the cold water she had just submerged her body in just a few minutes ago. “Nay, me Laird. I prefer being understood.”
“Then stop hiding the truth every time I ask for it.”
Her fingers tightened in the linen. “That is rich, coming from ye.”
Connor turned back and stepped toward her. “What is that supposed to mean?”
