His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through it. “I did nae say ye were.”
She faltered.
He stepped closer, though not near enough to touch her, but enough that she could feel the pull of him.
“Ye are already useful,” he said quietly.
Her heart stuttered.
He looked away almost immediately, as if he regretted saying it. He turned toward the doorway, cloak shifting with the movement.
“Rest,” he said gruffly. “Tomorrow will be long.”
He left.
Not waiting for her reply.
Not giving her a chance to speak.
The kitchen door swung shut behind him, and he disappeared.
Ariella stood frozen, a wet bowl still in her hands. Mairi, Isla, and Ewan had fallen silent without her noticing.
“Go after him,” Mairi whispered, nudging her with an elbow.
Ariella’s cheeks warmed. “What? Nay. I — he was only being polite.”
Ewan whispered. “He was being serious.”
Isla whacked him with a towel. “He was being sweet, ye goose.”
Sweet.
The word settled in Ariella’s chest like a candle aflame.
Maxwell was many things, but sweet? Never.
Yet she had heard something gentle in his tone. A softness beneath the gravel. A hint of apology hidden in four simple words:Ye are already useful.
She set the bowl down, drying her damp hands on her skirts.
Mairi gave her a knowing look. “He cares,” she murmured.
Ariella shook her head automatically. “Nay, he —”
“He does,” Mairi insisted. “He just doesnae ken what to do with it.”
Ariella bit her lip.
Maybe Mairi was right.
Maybe that was his way of apologizing for pushing her away, for rejecting her kindness, for offering desire then retreating the moment he felt something deeper stir.
Ariella felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, and she pressed a finger to her lips to steady it.
If that was an apology then she would take it.
Unbeknownst to her, a tall figure had paused in the corridor.
