Violet stepped back. “No more training.”
Connor studied her. That was retreat. Not merely from the kiss, but from the place where it had happened as well. From the touch, the lesson, the damp grass, the feel of him above her.
“Afraid ye might learn too much?” he teased.
She went still, and for a moment, she did not speak.
The silence told him more than any confession could have.
Then she gathered herself, chin lifting. “Goodbye, me Laird.”
She turned and walked back toward the castle.
Connor remained where he was and refused to follow. Instead, he watched her go, the yellow trim of her gown catching what little light dawn offered.
He could still feel her lips on his, could still feel the weight of her wrist, the pull of her body as they rolled, the sudden heat when she kissed him back instead of turning away.
When she passed beneath the archway, he let out a short, humorless laugh.
War had not undone him. Nor had treaties, raids, councils, letters, clan quarrels, or Lachlan’s messes. He had handled them all with a clear head and a steady hand.
It had to beher.She was the one who would get him to break.
Hilarious.
His thoughts had yet to settle when he heard the sound of familiar boots crossing the yard behind him.
“It is a bit soon for yer bride to be running away from ye, is it nae?” Alex drawled.
Connor did not turn. “On the contrary, I think it took her too long.”
Alex came to stand beside him, saying nothing at first. That alone made Connor want to dismiss him.
After a beat, Alex looked down at Connor’s hands. “Aye. I’ll pretend I daenae see ye trying to murder the air.”
“Wise,” Connor said.
Alex accepted the warning better than he accepted silence. “Letters have arrived.”
Connor turned then, grateful for business and irritated that the gratitude existed. “From whom?”
“Half the Highlands, judging by the pile,” Alex replied. His tone had changed, the humor tucked away because he had enough sense to know when Connor’s temper sat close to the surface. “Congratulations from some. Questions from others. And then there’s one from Laird MacAdair.”
Connor’s jaw tightened. “Jack Hudson wrote?”
“Aye. Sealed properly. I thought ye would do the honor of opening it.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “How courteous of ye.”
Alex did not waste a beat. “Could be a trap.”
“Well, I hope it isnae. I daenae believe the blood between us is bad enough to warrant something like that.”
Alex nodded. “Aye. It wasnae like ye left his sister out in the cold for a random woman who broke into yer castle two weeks ago or anything—Wait a minute!”
“One of these days, Alex, I’ll have yer tongue.”
Alex nodded once. He then shifted his weight, and Connor read the hesitation before the man spoke.
