The music beyond the door shifted into something faster, but Connor did not follow it. Their private dance remained slow, and his hand continued to hold hers. His palm slid around her waist, and he could see just how her composure began to fray at the edges.
She stepped back before he could make the wiser choice.
“Enough,” she said.
Connor released her at once, though his hand itched to touch her again. “Of the dance?”
He watched her fingers curl against her gown. She stood a few feet away now, cheeks flushed, eyes too bright, the muffled sounds of the cèilidh pressing at the room like a reminder of every witness they had left outside.
“Of ye,” she said.
The answer pleased him more than it should have.
Connor let his hands fall to his sides and watched her gather herself with visible effort. She turned away from him toward the desk, as if everything on it could rebuild whatever the dance had unsettled.
“Enough,” she repeated, her voice still shaky.
They had done nothing improper, and he could tell that was the trouble.
Connor had kept his hand where a husband might place it in a hall full of witnesses. He had not pulled her against him or lowered his mouth to her ear again. He had simply guided her through a dance no one else could see, with the cèilidh muffled beyond the door and his palm warm against her waist.
It had unsettled her more than any open arrogance could have.
She folded her hands in front of her and steadied her voice.“We need rules.”
Behind her, Connor’s mouth twitched. She did not have to see it to know it. The man could make amusement audible in silence.
“I suspected we might,” he allowed.
Violet turned to face him. “First, we must nae embarrass each other publicly.”
“I agreed to that before ye dragged me from me own wedding celebration.”
“I didnaedragye. I invited ye firmly.”
“Aye,” he said. “Veryfirmly.”
The heat in his voice prickled at the back of her neck, but she ignored it because there was no sensible use in acknowledging a tone of voice.
A tone of voice could be denied. Rules were safer.
Rules had edges.
“We must present a united front,” she said. “Whatever arrangement we have, the clan must see stability.”
Connor moved to the desk and leaned one hip against the edge, arms loose at his sides, eyes fixed on her with that infuriating patience. “That sounds reasonable.”
“Itisreasonable.”
“Then why do ye look ready to strike me with the nearest candlestick?”
She sighed and dropped her shoulders. “Because ye make everything difficult.”
“That is a complaint, nae a rule.”
Violet lifted her chin. “For John’s sake, we must spend at least one hour together every day.”
Connor went still. The movement was subtle but still thickened the air.
