“I wasnae making light of danger,” she assured him.
“Daenae make pity out of it, then,” Connor said. “I have no use for that.”
“I wasnae.”
“Ach, ye were close.”
That should have made her snap back. Instead, she held his gaze and let the silence fester. He had given her so little, hardlymore than a glimpse, and yet it had changed the shape of his expression.
She looked away first because the thought softened her too much.
Connor watched her with a different kind of attention now. Less amused. More curious.
“Ye are nothing like I expected,” he admitted.
She folded her arms. “And what did ye expect?”
“An obedient wife, maybe.”
“Then ye chose poorly.”
He nodded, exhaling as loudly as he could. “I am beginning to understand that.”
“Good. Regret is healthy.”
“Is that another rule?”
“It should be.”
His mouth curved a little, and the room settled around the edges.
Connor pushed off the desk, and Violet knew at once she should step back.
She did not move quickly enough.
“Are there more rules?” he asked.
“Aye.”
He took one more step closer. The faint music beyond the door pressed into the quiet, fiddle and feet and voices belonging to a celebration she had abandoned in order to stand here with her husband and pretend she still understood her own intentions.
“Should I move back?” he asked.
Violet’s mouth went dry. “That would be sensible.”
“I didnae ask what was sensible.”
He was close enough now that she could see the shadow of stubble along his jaw and the slight looseness at his collar where the ceremony had begun to give way to the man beneath it. Close enough that the study seemed smaller than before. Close enough that every rule she had brought in with such determination felt poorly made.
Connor’s gaze lowered to her mouth, then returned to her eyes. “Are ye certain ye have no more rules else to share, wife?”
Violet knew she should step back.
She didn’t.
15
Connor stood close enough that Violet could feel the heat of his body through the space between them.
