Page 118 of Highlander of Storm

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Violet wanted to press further. She wanted to tell him that a man could be broken and still be worth saving. She wanted to remind him that John might one day ask why his father was kept away by the only family he had left.

The words gathered, then scattered when the room tilted faintly at the edges. She gripped the blanket tighter.

Connor’s eyes sharpened. “Enough.”

“I wasnae finished.”

“I ken.”

“Then why stop?”

“Because ye are pale again, and I would rather fight with ye when ye can remain upright through the whole insult.”

Her mouth twitched despite herself. “That is almost considerate.”

“I am improving.”

“Slowly.”

“Aye. I wouldnae want to alarm ye with too much progress.”

Violet leaned back against the pillow before he could tell her to do it. The candle near the table burned low, the flame flickering whenever air slipped beneath the door. Her body had lost the last of its borrowed strength, so even anger required more than she had to give.

Connor reached for the cup of angelica tea. “Finish this.”

She made a face. “I would rather fight.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Ye are ordering me again.”

“Aye.”

“It remains unattractive.”

“Tomorrow, yer lie will be more convincing.”

She took the cup from him and drank because arguing would require sitting up longer. The bitterness coated her mouth.

Connor watched until she handed it back, then set it aside and pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders with the same care that had undone her earlier.

“It doesnae change that I still think ye are being too hard on him,” she murmured.

“I ken.”

“Ye are supposed to defend yerself.”

“I thought ye needed sleep.”

“I can sleepandbe correct.”

His mouth twitched, almost a smile. “That I believe.”

Her eyes grew heavy. Connor stayed beside her, one forearm on his knee, his body angled toward the door as if he could guard her from the whole village and argue at the same time.

She had called himcruel,and as sleep pulled her under, she was no longer sure that was the right name for what he had carried all these years. Perhaps he was as much a victim as she had been.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure having children with him was the right thing to do.