“A moment,” she began, sliding her feet into her slippers.
The latch lifted anyway, and the door was pushed open, and for a fleeting moment Elena presumed her mother’s haste meant something awful had happened.
But it was not her mother who appeared.
Thomas Hamilton stepped into her chamber with the easy confidence of a man who believed he belonged there. He wore a trim doublet of saffron-yellow wool, his hair neatly combed, his cheeks freshly shaven. The smile he offered her was polished, had once pleased her but now.... did not.
Elena stared at him, surprise giving way to a sharper spark of annoyance. “Thomas,” she said, sitting up fully, “Ye canna simply enter without—” she paused, riled to shock by so bold an action.
He paused, his smile barely slipping. “I did knock,” he said mildly.
“But ye should nae have—ye should have announced yerself and waited for my call,” she replied, drawing her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. The correction landed harshly, but she did not soften it. If she was to be mindful of propriety—of what might be seen, assumed, or remembered—then so, too, would he be reminded of its bounds.
Thomas was, on the whole, completely unmoved by her disturbance.
“At any rate,” he said, clasping his hands together at his waist, “I had hoped to catch you before you got about your day. I meant to check in on you last night, but Mistress MacTavish advised you needed rest.”
She heaved a sigh and closed her shawl more tightly over her chest, thankful for her mother’s intervention.
He came closer as he spoke, until he stood only a few feet away. The room felt smaller with him in it, the air heavier, as though it no longer moved as freely as it had a moment before.
“I spent half the night worrying for you,” he continued. “I hardly slept.”
Elena pressed her lips together. “I appreciate your concern,” she said, “but I am quite well.”
He reached for her hand, the gesture easy, unthinking. She drew her own back at once, pretending to smooth a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His smile faltered briefly, then returned, unchanged.
“I know there has been... talk,” he added after a moment, his tone shifting, careful now. “Men are inclined to make much of such events. But you must understand—I was unarmed, outnumbered. Any rash action would have made matters worse.”
Elena said nothing, a wee bit astounded by him.Any rash actions? Made matters worse?
“I trusted,” he continued, filling the silence, “that help would come quickly. And it did.”
The words settled so very poorly.
“Thomas,” she said at last, her voice even, “there is something I must say, and I would rather say it now than carry it unspoken.”
His expression shifted—alert now, though still mild. “Of course.”
“Ye told others that ye fought for me,” she continued. “That ye were overrun.”
He drew a slow breath. “I did what I could under the circumstances.”
She shook her head once. Not sharply. Simply no. “That isnaetrue.” The room went very still while she stared at him. “Ye dinna draw yer sword,” she said. “Ye dinna move. And afterward, ye let it be said otherwise.” She met his gaze, steady despite the faint tightening in her chest. “I will nae pretend it dinna matter.”
Thomas frowned, clearly unsettled. “Elena, I did not mean to mislead—”
“Ye did,” she said sternly, assured of this truth at least. “Ye absolutely did. And I need to ken that if we are to speak of a future, ye will nae ask me to accept comfort built on untruths.”
He hesitated, then straightened, recovering his composure. “I believed,” he said carefully, “that my father’s men would answer quickly. That the situation would be resolved without further harm.”
He was missing the point. Her hands curled lightly into the edge of her shawl. “But it was nae, and I spent three days running,” she went on. “Three nights nae knowing if we would see morning. That matters to me. And if I am to be your wife, I need to ken that ye mean to be... more than a spectator.”
He shifted his weight, discomfort plain now. “You will be well protected,” he said. “My father commands a strong force—"
She snorted a harsh laugh, disbelief etched in every line of her face. “As does mine—but he was nae there. Ye were.”
“I would arrange that you—we—always have guards.”
