The chamber door opened at that moment, and she clutched the linen tighter.“Who is that?!!”
He came in as if the room belonged to him, though his eyes went first to her face. That made it worse, somehow. He saw too much before he saw anything else.
“Ye cannae be here,” she protested.
“I can.”
“That wasnae a challenge.”
“It sounded like one.”
The maid froze with the nightdress clutched against her chest. Her face reddened, and she looked at Violet before moving.
That small hesitation reminded Violet she was Lady Moore now, even standing damp and barefoot behind a screen.
“Leave us,” Connor ordered.
Violet opened her mouth to protest again.
“I will help me wife,” Connor added.
The maid curtsied so quickly that she nearly dropped the nightdress. When the door closed, Violet tightened her grip on the linen until her knuckles ached.
“Ye had no reason to do that,” she huffed.
“I wanted to speak with ye.”
“Well, most people knock before speaking.”
“Most people daenae faint in markets and then flee chapels.”
“I didnae flee.”
Connor crossed to the chair and picked up the nightdress. “Ye left quickly in fear. Choose whichever word pleases ye.”
His calm grated on her last useful nerve. “Give me that and turn around.”
He held out the nightdress, his mouth curving faintly. “I will be good.”
“That israrelytrue.”
“Tonight, it is.”
He turned his back before she could accuse him of lingering.
Violet dried herself quickly, angry at the heat in her cheeks and angrier that her hands were not steady. When the linen fell, and the nightdress slipped over her head, she felt his stillness as plainly as a touch.
“Ye may turn,” she said.
Connor turned to face her, his gaze moving over the damp ends of her hair, the high neck of her nightdress, the sleeves she had not tied. He stepped closer and fastened one ribbon at her wrist with surprising care.
“Ye did well with him today,” he praised.
Violet looked down at his hands. “Of course I did. I made Jane a promise.”
“It was more than a promise.”
“Daenae make it sound noble.”
