“Is that nae the Moore way? He is blood, after all.”
“That explains nothing good, Connor.”
This time, Connor did smile, almost. Then his gaze dropped to the baby in her arms, and the humor faded into something more intent.
“How can ye love him like this and refuse to have a child of yer own?” he asked.
Everything in Violet went still.
The question found the place in her heart that she usually kept hidden, the place beneath every rule and every clever answer.
She could have said she disliked children if that had been true. She could have said marriage did not suit her if that had been enough. What she could not say, however, was that loving a child waspreciselythe danger. She could not speak of sickrooms, anxious faces, days when breath had come too hard, and futures that had once been discussed in softened voices outside her door. She could not speak of what she had gone through as a child, and she wished to never letanyone else, especially John, go through that again.
She looked down at John. He had released Connor’s finger and was now trying to bring the blue cloth to his mouth.
“Have ye changed yer mind?” she asked.
Connor’s gaze narrowed. “About what?”
“Our arrangement.”
“I asked out of curiosity.”
“Well, curiosity wasnae part of our deal.”
“Interesting.”
Her spine stiffened. “What is?”
“That ye hide behind the deal whenever I ask the question ye daenae want answered.”
Violet shifted John against her shoulder, then used the edge of the blanket to wipe a bit of drool from his mouth. The motion gave her something to do with her hands.
“Ye examine people too much,” she managed, her voice refusing to reach for anything else.
The room fell quiet for a few moments. Connor’s eyes remained on her, and she disliked the feeling that he was learning the shape of her evasions one careful question at a time.
At last, he rose to his feet. The suddenness of it pulled her attention up too quickly.
“I leave within the hour,” he announced.
“Leave?” The word escaped before she could make it sound casual.
“For MacAdair Castle. Laird MacAdair has agreed to sign the new treaty perhaps two, without his eyes finding every weakness she tried to tuck away. Instead, a strange hollow opened beneath her ribs.
“Oh,” she murmured.
Connor glanced toward the book, the strip of cloth in John’s fist, then back to her face. “Alex will remain here, and I have doubled the shifts of the guards near the nursery and outer passages.”
“I didnae ask about guards.”
“Nay.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “But I thought I might do it anyway. Ye can never be too careful with intruders.”
Violet looked down at John and adjusted his blanket again. The poor baby would feel too warm if she did not stop.
“The christening clothes are ready,” she said instead.
Matters like that were safer than asking who would ride with Connor, how long the road was, and whether Laird MacAdair was still angry about the broken betrothal.
