“Daenae play with me, Violet. I daenae appreciate it.”
Violet turned to her, intending to offer some clever answer, but Hannah’s expression stopped her.
Her sister was not simply angry. That would have been easier. She was studying her with the same quiet focus she had used years ago when Violet insisted she could stand, walk, breathe, and eat while fever burned through every lie.
There was no escaping that look.
“Heisstrict,” Violet said at last.
“Aye, I’ve noticed.”
Violet held her sister’s eyes. “Well, have ye noticed that he is also a bit arrogant?”
“He is a laird. They all are.”
“He is confusing as well.”
Hannah folded her hands in front of her. “Now, that one is more interesting.”
Violet dipped her head. “Sometimes he is a brute. Sometimes he is almost kind. Sometimes he says something insulting, then does something decent and expects me to always follow along those moods.”
Hannah’s gaze sharpened. “And what of yer heart?”
“Me heart?” Violet’s voice rose, almost in disbelief. “Please.”
Hannah did not smile.
That was unfair. If she had smiled, Violet could have accused her of making nonsense of a serious situation. Instead, she crossed to the chair closest to the fireplace and lowered herself into it as if she had every intention of remaining there until Violet gave her something resembling the truth.
“Has he tried to frighten ye?” she asked.
Violet’s fingers tightened against her gown. The answer should have been simple. Connor frightened servants, warriors, tenants, and lairds with less effort than most men used to open a door. He had locked her in the dungeons, ordered a wedding, carried her through the castle, kissed her in the grass, and looked at her as if every argument she made was something he might dismantle with patience and his bare hands.
“Nae in the way ye mean,” she said.
Hannah leaned forward. “Has he hurt ye?”
“Nay.”
“Forced ye?”
Heat rose fast in Violet’s face before she could stop it, and the kiss came back with cruel clarity. Connor above her, one hand braced near her head, the pause before his mouth touched hers, and the fact that she had not turned away.
Hannah saw the blush.
Violet hated that nothing could escape her sister.
“Violet.”
“He is controlling,” Violet said quickly. “Infuriating. Too sure of himself. But he isnae cruel.”
The sentence hung between them, heavier than anything.
Connorwasdangerous; there was no denying that. But he was not cruel in the way Hannah feared. That distinction mattered, and Violet hated that she knew it so clearly.
Hannah accepted the answer with a small nod. Then her gaze moved over Violet’s face again, gentler now and somehow more difficult to bear.
“And yer health?”
