Page 21 of Owned by the Scarred Laird

He leaned forward, pressed the heel of his hand into the muscle above his shoulder blade until he felt relief, and then reached for the basin.

He had slept in his study. Again. There had been no good reason for it except that the thought of walking back into that chamber after what had passed between them had not appealed to him.

He was still sitting with that when the door opened.

Angela did not knock.

She had only been back at the castle for a year, but she moved through it as if it were as much her inheritance as it was his. She stepped inside and paused. Her eyes shifted to the basin and ewer on the side table, then to the folded shirt beside them, and finally to the chair he was sitting in. She took her time observing each one.

She looked at him.

“Edward.”

He already knew what was coming and had mastered how to deflect it. “I have work,” he responded flatly, his eyes going back to the stack of parchments on the desk.

“Ye have a wife ye are neglectin’.”

His eyes met hers across the large study. “I am givin’ her space to settle. Me bein’ there would nae help her.”

Angela stared at him, her expression saying she was genuinely having difficulty believing him. “Ye left a woman alone in a strange castle in a strange bed in a country she daenae ken, with nay relatives, and ye think the problem is too much of yer company.”

“What she needs is⁠—”

“I ken what ye think she needs.” She crossed the room, reached past him, and picked up the folded shirt from beside the basin. She held it up. “Ye slept in yer study.”

“I had documents to⁠—”

“Edward.” She set the shirt down. “Ye are nae this foolish.”

His jaw tightened. “She is nae goin’ to shatter,” he snapped.

“Aye, she will nae,” Angela agreed. “But surely ye can see she is frightened and alone in this place she did nae choose with a man she daenae ken. And ye sittin’ in here tellin’ yerself ye are givin’ her room is nae kindness. It is cowardice.”

He pushed back from the desk so fast the chair tittered. “Watch yerself.”

She held his gaze without blinking. After a moment, she smiled, “Come, brother. I want to show ye somethin’.” She reached out and grabbed his palm in her two hands. “Come with me.”

“Angela. I told ye I am⁠—”

“It will only take a moment from ye.”

She was pulling. Edward could have stopped her with one step. He was twice her size, and she knew it. But she pulled anyway, and he let himself be moved because the alternative was to shake off his own sister.

She marched him down the corridor, through the east passage, and out through the door that opened onto the inner courtyard.

He understood why she insisted right away. Chloe was already there.

She was lying on the grass in the far corner of the courtyard, her face turned up to the sky, and her eyes closed, with her hands open at her sides. She had not heard them. Whatever she was thinking about had taken her somewhere far from this castle, and it showed in every line of her—her loose shoulders and the stillness of her hands.

He had not seen anyone who was not a child look that blissful before. He was already regretting interrupting her moment.

But clearly his sister had no such qualms. Angela released his arm.

“What a lovely afternoon,” she announced at a volume designed to carry. “I thought we might all take some air together.”

Chloe’s eyes snapped open, and she scrambled upright. She glanced at Angela and then at Edward standing next to her, and the brief expression that crossed her face was gone in less than a second, replaced by control. It was enough.

She had not known what Angela was doing either.