Hannah turned her head slowly and looked at Violet’s face. “And ye are certain that whatever ye have with Laird Moore is only business?” she asked.
Violet did not move. “Daenae.”
“I didnae say anything.”
“Ye were about to.”
“Aye,” Hannah said softly. “Something useful.”
Violet looked down at John and told herself again that he was the only exception. Then Connor’s voice sounded once more in the passageway, closer this time, and her heart betrayed her before she could move.
Hannah saw it.
Of courseHannah saw it.
11
The next morning, Connor stopped outside the nursery with a sealed letter in his hand and Violet’s laughter on the other side of the door.
He had been on his way to his study. There were letters to answer, a messenger waiting for instructions, and a wedding to reduce into lists, names, rooms, guards, food, ale, witnesses, and priestly time.
Every matter waited somewhere ahead of him.
Still, he stopped. Inside the nursery, John made a small, cooing sound. Violet answered with a low laugh, warm and easy, meant for the baby alone.
“And that, wee one, is how one survives a castle full of lions and dragons,” she said.
Connor’s hand lifted to the doorknob. He had every right to enter. It was his castle, his nursery, his ward, his future wife.
The thought came clean and practical.
Then Violet spoke again, still bright, still too deliberate.
“Nay, daenae make that face at me. I am sure there are worse afflictions than being surrounded by dragons and lions. Probably armed men who scowl at walls. Like me future husband.”
Connor’s hand dropped from the knob. She knew he was there.
He could open the door and make her answer for the insult. He could ask after John or even stand in the room until her careful distance had nowhere to hide. Instead, he walked on, her voice following him until he reached the bend in the corridor.
At the midday meal, Hannah made certain that Violet appeared.Thank God.
Connor rose slightly when Violet entered, because excessive courtesy was the only weapon he had left that did not make him look like a fool.
“Violet,” he greeted.
She paused as if he had struck her with good manners. “Me Laird.”
“I trust ye slept well.”
“Perfectly,” she answered, taking the seat Hannah had clearly chosen for her. It was far enough from him just for caution and close enough to keep all courtesy intact.
“Good,” he said.
“Good,” she echoed.
Across from Violet, Hannah lowered her eyes to her plate, and the corner of her mouth curved. “If being polite could draw blood, ye would both be dead,” she murmured.
Connor watched as Violet’s cheeks flushed. He reached for his cup and decided that if Lady MacBain wished to fight battles with smiles and quiet comments, she was better armed than half the men in his yard.
