“We’ll watch over her,” Ned decreed.
Aye.
They certainly would.
It was the first day since they’d started having sex that they didn’t have sex.
Dair was completely fine with that.
What he wasn’t fine with was watching his woman wander around listless.
The edification of Ned and Nora showing wore off after dinner and Dair was heading straight to alarmed at how little energy and life Blake had while going through the motions of getting ready for bed.
But now they were snuggled in bed. It was dark. Quiet. No city sounds could be heard as white noise.
Just them in this big room in this massive house.
“Ate well at dinner, hen,” he noted.
“I forgot what a great cook Christine was. Her garlic roasted chicken and Boursin mash is the best. And I can’t believe she pulled out the Eaton Mess. That’s my favorite.”
It had been a stick-to-your-ribs dinner, that was undeniable.
And fortunately, Blake had her fair share.
“I’m a bit worried about ye,” he admitted.
She lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him through the dark.
“I don’t want you to be worried, honey,” she said softly.
“Of course ye dinnae,” he replied. “I still am.”
“My mum just died.”
“I ken.”
“I haven’t really…” she trailed off, Dair said nothing, she picked up the thread, “I don’t know what I’m feeling.”
“Do ye need to define it?”
“I…well, I guess not.”
“It feels shite. It’s going to feel shite for a while. Ye dinnae have to make it harder on yourself by untwisting all you’ve got to have twisted in your head right now. Ye have time. Get through the funeral. Get a handle on the changes this has made to your life. Then ye can get a handle on what losing Helena makes ye feel.”
“The changes this has made on my life?” she asked.
Well…
Christ.
Had she not put it together?
“You’ve inherited a rather important title, lass,” he said carefully.
He heard a snort, and only Blake could make a snort sound ladylike.
“All my life I’ve wanted to be Marchioness of Norton,” she decreed. “I mean, how kickass is that?”
