Lachlan had offered Violet a memory Connor could not command, and Violet had accepted it in front of him with John in her arms and grief in her eyes.
Then he remembered the way Lachlan had reacted at the wordwe.Ourdecision.Ourbairn.Ourname.OurJane.
Connor’s jaw locked.
“Brother,” Lachlan called after him.
Connor stopped at the corner. A guard nearby straightened and pretended that he had heard nothing.
Connor did not turn at once. “I gave ye a week. Daenae try to shorten it before the first meal is over.”
Lachlan’s footsteps slowed down as he drew closer. He smelled faintly of ale already, though the morning was hardly old enough to forgive it. “Still generous, then.”
Connor turned. “Nay. I am just still impatient.”
Lachlan smiled. The expression sat easily on his face, which made it less trustworthy. He leaned one shoulder against the wall, then seemed to think better of looking too careless and straightened. His eyes were clearer than they had been the night before, though his focus still shifted too often.
“Do ye want her?” he asked.
Connor went still. “What?”
“Violet,” Lachlan clarified, his voice low. “She must have come here for John. Imagine me surprise when I arrived to find out ye married her. It would cause doubt in anyone, so I am asking again. Do ye want her?”
Connor let a brief silence settle between them before he spoke again, keeping his temper in check. “That is a poor question to ask a man about his wife.”
“It shouldnae be if the answer is simple.”
“It iscomplicated.”
Lachlan gave a tired laugh. “That means aye, and ye resent it.”
Connor stepped closer. “Ye’re still early here, Brother. Mind yer tongue.”
“I am trying,” Lachlan said. “It keeps finding interesting things.”
That old habit was there, the easy reach for charm whenever danger stood too near. Connor had once known how to read it as mischief. Now he read it as evasion, and the change sat badly in his gut.
“She is me wife,” he said, too quickly.
Lachlan’s eyebrows rose. Connor hated him for noticing.
“And that is why I asked,” Lachlan said. “A man may marry a woman for heirs, money, land, peace, spite, or poor judgment. Wanting her, on the other hand, is another matter.”
Connor glanced toward the guard. The man stared ahead with painful discipline.
“Walk,” he ordered.
Lachlan obeyed for three steps, then matched Connor’s pace through the side passage toward the study. The further they moved from the breakfast hall, the quieter the castle became.
Connor looked ahead, noticing the way the morning light fell through narrow windows and caught the dust in the air. He heard the faintest sound behind them, perhaps Violet laughing softly at John.
“When I first met Jane,” Lachlan said, “she was the only thing that made sense.”
Connor’s mouth tightened. “I assume Jane wanted ye back.”
Lachlan’s smile fell. For a moment, his face had no defense on it. “Aye, for a little while.”
“And then?”
