Connor exhaled and dragged his palm down his face. He could feel a mild headache starting at the back of his head, which meant he would need to get up soon. Yet, his thoughts would not settle.
If he let Violet leave, she would come back. If he gave her the child, he would be handing Moore blood to roads, strangers, and whatever Englishmen had already laid over the baby’s first breath. If he kept her locked in the dungeons, his people would start whispering, the baby would still need a safe place, and her grief would sharpen into another problem.
Connor eventually rose, rubbing his palms down his thighs. Therewas, in fact, a solution, and it was staring at him right in the face.
He left the study and made his way back to the dungeons, where the air held the damp of stone and iron. The guard outside Violet’s cell straightened before Connor reached him.
“Open it.”
“Aye, me Laird.”
The lock turned, and Connor stepped inside and took the key from the guard while the cell door shut behind him.
Violet was standing. That registered first. She had not curled up on the straw or spent the hours weeping in the corner. She stood near the wall with her shoulders squared, her torn sleeve smoothed as best she could manage, and her chin lifted as if she had been waiting for him to return so she could resume their argument.
Good.
“Have ye cooled down?” Connor asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “I daenae ken. Have ye grown a conscience?”
A low grin tugged at his lips as he closed his hand around the key and stepped further into the cell. “I am here to tell ye that I have considered the matter.”
“If this doesnae end with me head rolling down the hills, then ye are quite the dramatic man.”
Connor scoffed, his hands hanging at his sides. “Ye will remain at Moore Castle with the bairn.”
Her expression sharpened. “I thought we already went over this. I willnae be held captive by a man I daenae ken.”
He nodded. “Lucky for ye, that isnae what I want.”
“Good. Then open the door.”
“Nay.”
Violet threw her hands up in despair, and he could see that she was considering giving up. “Do ye nae ken what captivity is?”
“Captivity is wasteful. It solves one problem and creates six more.”
“How reassuring. I am glad yer tyranny is efficient.”
His grin widened. She must really not know who he was. Either that, or she simply didn’t care.
None of his men could speak to him in this manner, and yet here she was, a random woman, talking to him like she had no fear for her life. He almost admired the nerve she had.Almost.
The admiration, however, had no place here, so he set it aside.
“Ye will be me bride.”
For the first time since he had found her in the cell, Violet stared at him with nothing ready on her tongue.
A laugh threatened to escape him.
Good to ken that some things can make ye speechless.
He watched her intently as color rushed into her face again. “Yer what?”
“Bride.”
