He gave her a slow nod. “As ye like.” He turned for the door. “Me wife gives orders now.”
“She does,” Kristen affirmed. “And she expects them to be kept. This is nay longer the obedient lass ye left behind five years ago, Neil.”
An amused smile crept onto his face.
She knew he could send her away if he wanted. He had been gone for years, but he still had all the power. He could choose to chase her out of his quarters for tonight and settle in. At the end of the day, this was his castle.
However, he didn’t do any of that. For some reason, he chose to obey. He opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. The latch met wood with a clean click. His footsteps faded along the stone floor.
Silence fell at once. Kristen stood by the bed, with her hands curled in the sheet, her fingers clenched until they ached.
“Brilliant, Kristen,” she muttered under her breath. “Ye went and challenged the Wolf of the North.” She paced three steps and back. “Ye will die of mortification before he ever lays a hand on ye. Ye asked him to shave like a fishwife. God save me.”
She stopped and pressed her knuckles to her mouth. The room smelled of banked peat and soap. The scent tugged at the same traitorous place that had answered his voice. She ignored it.
“I did it to take the reins,” she told the empty room. “I did it to keep the whip from landing where it hurts worst. I did not do it because a part of me wanted him in me bed.” She shook her head, steeling her resolve. “I willnae let him break me again. I am nae the lass who stood at the altar and tried nae to shake.”
What if he truly comes to me bed every night?
She walked to the door and pressed her palm to the cool wood. Beyond it, the castle kept its winter hush.
“Enough,” she whispered. All she needed for now was sleep. Any other matter could come tomorrow.
Soft footsteps pattered down the corridor, and she heard the familiar sound of Maggie’s paws tapping the door. A small knock sounded—more a touch than a call.
“Me Lady,” came a whisper. “Are ye there?”
She opened the door and found Finn, his hair mussed, his face serious, his nightshirt wrinkled from sleep. Anna stood behind him with her thumb in her mouth. Maggie pushed her head into Kristen’s hip as if claiming her.
“Are ye cross, me Lady?” Finn asked, his brow furrowed. “Moira says that all is well, and Maggie isnae barking, but ye still look cross.”
Kristen knelt and smoothed his hair. The motion steadied her. “I am nae cross, love. I am only tired,” she soothed. “Nothing for ye to worry about.”
Anna pressed into her shoulder. Kristen gathered her close and breathed in the warm, milky scent of her little head.
“Did the wind scare ye?” she asked.
“A wee,” Anna mumbled around her thumb.
“Then we will shame it by nae listenin’,” Kristen said. “We will give it nay story to tell.”
Finn rocked on his heels and looked past her to the bed as if measuring enemies under the coverlet. “We can stay with ye,” he offered, brave as a small soldier.
Kristen’s throat tightened. “I think I will come to yer room instead. For a story, or a song, and then sleep will win.”
“Song,” Anna said at once.
“Story first,” Finn decided. “Then a song. Or two.”
“Greedy,” Kristen teased, her lips curling into a genuine smile.
Maggie huffed, pleased with the plan. She nudged Kristen’s shoulder as if to move her along.
“Very well,” Kristen said, rising. “Show me the way, Captain Finn. Lead us brave.”
Finn took her hand into his small one, and Anna took the other. Their fingers fit into the cracks her fear had left.
They walked down the short corridor together while Maggie trotted at their side like a gray shadow. A maid walked past, her head bowed in deference.
