And what would happenwhen she was fully healed? When the shadows left her eyes and she stood tall and strong again? Would she stay? Or would she realize she deserved better than a man haunted by his mother's cruelty?
Theodore pressedhis forehead against the cool glass. The truth was, he didn't know if he'd be good enough for Madison. Didn't know if he could give her everything she deserved.
But he knewhe wanted to try.
His mother had never wantedchildren. She'd told him so often enough, usually with a slap to punctuate the words.Ye were a mistake. A burden. Ye've done nothin' but disappoint me since the day ye were born.
For years,he'd believed her. Had thought maybe she was right—that he was fundamentally broken, fundamentally wrong.
But watchingMadison move through the gardens below, her dark hair catching the morning light, Theodore felt somethingshift inside him. What if his mother hadn't been right? What if she'd simply been cruel?
Madison would never be cruel.He knew that with a certainty that settled deep in his bones. Even broken and afraid, she'd shown kindness to the servants, gentleness with Eliza. She had a softness in her that his mother had never possessed.
What kindof mother would Madison be?
The thought came unbidden,and Theodore's breath caught. He hadn't let himself imagine that far ahead. Hadn't dared to picture Madison round with child, smiling down at a babe in her arms. His child.
But now thatthe image was there, he couldn't shake it.
She would be gentle,he thought. Patient. She would sing to their children the way her own mother had sung to her—that song she'd hummed in the cave, soft and soothing. She would never make them feel unwanted. Would never raise her hand in anger.
She would be everythinghis mother wasn't.
And he...what would he be?
Theodore's handscurled into fists against the window frame. He would be better. He had to be. For Madison. For any children they might have.
If she would havehim at all.
The insecurity twistedthrough him again, sharp and cold. She'd agreed to their arrangement, yes. But that was just a deal. A month of pretending in exchange for help finding her family. She hadn't agreed to anything more.
And yet,when he'd kissed her in the library, she'd kissed him back. When he'd touched her in the study, she hadnae pulled away. There was something between them—something fragile and new, but real.
He just hadto be careful not to ruin it.
Ye'll ruin her,just like ye ruin all things pure and good.
"Nay,"Theodore said aloud, his voice firm. "I won't."
He wouldnae lethis mother's poison control him anymore. Wouldnae let her cruelty define who he became. Boyd was right—he was nothing like her. He never had been.
And if Madisonwould give him the chance, he would prove it.
His mother had triedto teach him that love was weakness, that caring made you vulnerable. But she'd been wrong about that too. Because caring about Madison did not make him weak—it made him stronger than he'd ever been.
Theodore turned from the window,the resolve settling over him like armor. He would prove himself worthy. Not just to Madison, but to himself.
Boyd's voicebroke through his thoughts. His cousin's expression had shifted, the earlier warmth replaced by something more somber. He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes shifting away from Theodore.
Theodore's stomach dropped.He knew that look. "Out with it."
The silence stretched between them,tightening like a snare around Theodore's ankle.
"There's nay word,me laird, of Madison's family." Boyd's words fell heavy in the quiet solar. "We've searched the nearby villages and we've nae a single lead to go off of. I've had men sent as far as the port and still nay sign of her kin."
“Nothin’?Tis nae as if the family could have vanished into thin air,” Theodore said leaning back in his chair. His jaw flexed as he drummed his thumb against the hard wood.
Slowly,Theodore rose from his seat and started pacing the length of the room. His mind was a whirl. Surely Madison’s family couldn’t have all perished. His chest tightened. The fact that he’d seen families wiped out by illness just these past years had him second guessing. He hated the idea that they could have all died, and Madison was spared despite the condition in which she was saved. But he couldn’t bring himself to think such things, let alone give Madison false testimony about them.
