“And…?” she prompted.
“It will be our most important outing as a betrothed couple,” he said, then corrected himself after a beat. “As per our arrangement.”
The word sat poorly on his tongue.
“I will need ye to be mindful.”
“Aye.”
“Daenae wander off alone. Daenae leave the keep without an escort. If anyone outside the household speaks to ye, ye answer only if it is necessary.”
Edith’s expression sharpened. “Ye need nae tell me how to conduct meself,” she replied coolly. “I am nae a child.”
Aaron’s eyes narrowed.
There is the stubborn lass I ken.
Her indifference was familiar and easy, contrasting sharply with the soft, wishful woman she had been only moments ago.
Aaron smiled, satisfied.
This is better.
“I didnae say ye were,” he replied evenly, his gaze holding hers a moment longer than necessary. “Ye are under me protection whilst ye’re here. I expect ye to act as such.”
Edith leaned back slightly, her lips pressing together into a tight line. “Ye’re asking me to behave meself in public.”
“Nay.” Aaron’s voice lowered. “’Tis an order. Yehaveto.”
Her brows lifted. “Aye? Do ye need me to improve me social graces too?”
The familiar tension rose between them.
“Aye.”
“How rude,” she muttered under her breath, though it was loud enough for him to hear.
“I didnae hear ye, lass,” he said, glaring at her.
Edith huffed. She stood up, folding her arms as she walked toward the door. But Aaron did not move. He simply watched her, expecting her to leave.
She did not.
Of course, she didnae.
She turned around sharply, lifting her chin as she faced him again.
“’Tis very rich of ye,” she said, her voice rising, “to speak of social graces when yer people daenae even like ye.”
The room fell silent.
Aaron rose, the chair scraping softly behind him. He closed the distance between them in a few strides. Edith did not move back, and that alone irritated him more than her words.
His hand came up to catch her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Ye forget yerself, Edith,” he said quietly. “I am still yer Laird.”
Edith’s breath hitched.
