The space she wanted to remain.
The question still hung between them.
Are ye certain ye have no more rules else to share, wife?
The study seemed smaller than it had been a moment ago. The desk sat at her side, close enough that her fingers had curled around the edge without her mind’s permission.
The door stood behind Connor, much too far away for any retreat that would look dignified. Beyond it, the cèilidh continued with fiddle, feet, and laughter, all muffled by wood and stone until the life outside felt like another world.
Inside this room, there was only Connor’s gaze, the low fire, and the dreadful awareness that her body had stopped obeying the sensible parts of her.
Violet drew a breath and reached for the safest shield she had.
“Therulesare for John,” she said.
Connor’s gaze stayed on her. “Aye. The bairn has caused a great many things tonight.”
“Well, it is necessary, and I daenae appreciate ye saying it like that.”
“Likewhat?”
“As if I am using him.”
His face did not harden. That would have been easier. He only studied her, calm and far too attentive. “Are ye?”
“I am protecting him,” she responded, well aware that the answer came quickly because it was true.
Ithadto be true. John needed her, and Jane had begged her to find him, love him, and make sure he did not grow up neglected by men who would not think twice about getting rid of him. Everything Violet had done since the dungeons had been for him.
Connor let the answer sit long enough to make her aware of how tightly she was holding the desk.
“Was it for John’s protection that ye looked ready to scratch the widow’s eyes out?” he asked.
Her head snapped up. “I did no such thing.”
His eyebrows lifted faintly. “Nay?”
“Nay.”
“Ye crossed the hall and ordered me out before the woman finished asking. I think there is a lot we need to talk about.”
“I was protecting the dignity of our marriage.”
“Is that what we are calling it?”
“It is what it was.”
“Violet.”
Her name on his lips made the room warmer. She hated that. She hated more that she noticed the rough edge in his voice when he said it quietly.
“What?” she asked.
“Ye’re shaking.”
Violet looked away, and her gaze caught on the maps and papers near his desk. Even the cup he had not touched and the broad mark of his hand resting against the wood made her feel out of place.
Everything in the room was ordered and managed.
