“It doesnae need to sound noble if it is true.”
That hurt more than praise should have.
Violet pulled her wrist back and reached for the other sleeve, but Connor caught the ribbon first and tied it.
“The healer will see ye in the morning,” he said.
“Nay.”
“Aye.”
“Connor, I saidnay.”
“I heard ye.”
“Then why are we still speaking about this?”
“Because I am giving ye time to adjust to being wrong.”
She almost laughed. The sound would have been too close to surrender, so she swallowed it and looked away. The small bag beneath the cloak waited at the periphery of her vision.
“Ye cannae order me body like a guard shift,” she said.
“I can order every person around ye until ye run out of ways to avoid sense.”
“That isnae comforting.”
“Well, when it comes to choosing comfort and effectiveness, ye ken where I stand.”
Violet nodded once, because a nod cost less than an argument. She then moved closer to the table, her eyes unwavering.
Connor’s eyes narrowed as if he disliked the easy victory, and she moved to the dressing table before he could search her face any longer.
Wet hair clung to her neck, and Connor came behind her and lifted a strand from her cheek. The touch was light enough to swat away. She did not.
“Why do ye blush so much?” he asked.
“Uh, let us see, because ye enter rooms without knocking?”
Connor smirked. “Ye and I both ken that isnae the whole truth.”
“It is a big part.”
His thumb paused near her jaw. “Do ye nae see yerself the way I do?”
Violet looked at the mirror. Pale face. Tired eyes. Damp hair hanging loose like a sickroom memory. A body that had betrayed her once and might betray again.
What in God’s name is he talking about?
“How do ye see me?” she asked, and immediately regretted the words.
Connor stepped behind her fully, gathered her wet hair in one hand, and drew it over her shoulder. In the mirror, his dark head bent near hers.
“I see the woman who stood over a fevered baby and made a whole room obey without raising her voice,” he murmured.
His fingers slid down her shoulder, warm through the thin nightdress.
“I see me wife,” he continued. “Stubborn. Frightened. Beautiful even when she thinks fear has made her less.”
