Neil shifted again, restless, then stilled. “Ye should have stayed by the window. Ye didnae need to come close.”
“I did,” she insisted. “There was nay question.”
“Why?”
“Because I am nae afraid,” she replied. “And because ye were.”
He turned his head. She felt it more than saw it. “Ye are a vexing woman.”
“So everyone says,” she said.
He breathed out. It sounded like a laugh with its edges cut off.
Again, they lapsed into silence.
Lightning flashed again, casting his profile in silver. She saw the scar on his throat, the old brand’s pale curve. She did not let her gaze wander lower. She closed her eyes and counted, not sheep, not stairs, but small things that held. Finn’s hand on her sleeve. Anna’s soft snores. Maggie’s patience. The sound of rain, and a man’s breath that did not break.
His voice came once more, low. “Sleep, Kristen.”
“Ye first,” she countered.
“Stubborn,” he huffed.
“Aye.”
They lay like that while the storm raged. The bed held them as if it were a small boat in a rough sea and neither of them knew how to row. Still, they did not let go. Neither fell back asleep.
The morning came much later than Kristen had hoped, and its light eased the tension in the room. She opened her eyes, only to be caught off guard. Not only was Neil already awake, but he was also sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on his boots.
“I only asked ye to stay the night,” she said, flustered. “Ye dinnae have to stay through the morning as well.”
“I can choose when I want to leave.” His laugh came soft, but it startled her more than thunder.
“If one hears ye speak like this, one would think the thunder didnae shoot ye awake last night. Even Maggie is braver in storms,” she muttered.
“Are ye comparing me to a dog now?” His lips twitched. “Is that what is happening?”
“It was just…”
He left before she could finish her sentence.
“A joke.”
Not long after, Kristen climbed out of bed and got ready for the day. The breakfast bell rang, and after spending almost twenty minutes sifting through her wardrobe for the perfect dress, she settled on a dark green gown. It flattered her shoulders and settled well around her ankles.
The morning light streamed through the tall windows of the Great Hall, warm on the long tables. Kristen grabbed a chair to pull it back, only for it to move first. Neil stood behind it, his eyes unreadable, and then slid into the seat beside her.
Kristen opened her mouth to speak, perhaps to thank him, but the children burst in with the clatter of small boots, freezing the words in her throat. Anna hid behind her skirts, peeking out, while Finn beamed as if the sun had decided to sit at their table.
Maggie trotted after them, her head up, her tail a slow metronome. She gave a low growl that said,I am watching, but did not bare her teeth.
Kristen’s shoulders relaxed as she reached for the bread. Finn climbed into her lap as if he had done it every day of his life. She shifted him with her arm and balanced the tray with her other hand, then kissed his temple.
She could feel Neil staring at her, but she kept her eyes on the porridge. “Eat,” she told Finn.
The boy obeyed at once.
Anna slid onto the bench with a solemn little sigh and stole a berry from Kristen’s plate. Maggie rested her chin on Kristen’s knee and pretended she would never beg.
