The door openedto reveal one of the maids—young Ellen, if he remembered correctly. She bobbed a nervous curtsy, her eyes fixed on the floor.
“Beggin’yer pardon, me laird, but Lady McMahon sent me to tell ye that supper will be ready within the hour. She says ye’re to come to the great hall and nae to even think about workin’ through the meal. Her exact words, me laird.”
Despite everything,Elijah almost smiled. His mother knew him too well.
“Tell her I’ll be there.”
“Aye, me laird.”Ellen hesitated, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “And… if ye daenae mind me sayin’… the new lass seems very nice. Sweet and polite, even though she looks dead on her feet. We’re all pleased to have a governess for the young master and mistress again. It’s been too long.”
“That’s good to hear.Thank ye, Ellen.”
The maid bobbedanother curtsy and left, pulling the door closed behind her.
Elijah remained at his desk,staring at the contract. At Piper’s signature, neat and careful, the letters formed with obvious care.
He should goto the great hall. Should make an appearance, reassure the household that everything was normal. Should probably check on Piper and make sure his mother hadn’t overwhelmed her too much with her enthusiastic welcome.
But he stayedin his study as the light faded from the sky, watching shadows lengthen across the courtyard and trying to convince himself that what he felt for Piper Armstrong was nothing more than a laird’s duty to protect his people.
He failed.
Hours passed.The castle grew quiet as night fell and the household settled into sleep. Elijah finally forced himself to leave his study, making his usual evening rounds.
The guards wereat their posts, alert and ready. The gates were locked and barred. His steward reported that all was well—the harvest preparations were on schedule, the accounts were in order, and there had been no incidents during his absence.
Normal.Everything was normal.
Except nothing felt normal.The air felt charged, as if the moments before a storm broke. As if something was about to happen.
Elijah headedtoward his chambers on the second floor, his footsteps echoing in the stone corridors. Most of the household had already retired for the night. A few torches still burned in their sconces, casting flickering shadows on the walls that danced and writhed like living things.
He passedhis mother’s chambers—dark and quiet. Passed the rooms his children occupied—also dark, though he paused outside Connor’s door, listening. Nothing. They were asleep.
Good.He’d speak with them in the morning. Explain about Piper properly, without his mother’s romantic notions coloring the conversation.
Elijah continued downthe corridor toward his own chambers. He was exhausted; two days of riding with minimal rest had taken their toll, but his mind was still too active for sleep. Still circling back to gray eyes and soft curves and a voice that challenged him even when it shook with fear.
A scream shattered the silence.
High-pitched.Terrified. Unmistakably female.
Every musclein Elijah’s body went rigid. His hand went to his sword—still at his hip, because he never went unarmed within his own walls, a habit formed after Catherine’s death—and he was moving before conscious thought caught up.
The scream had comefrom nearby. Close enough that he could pinpoint the direction with deadly accuracy.
From the chambersadjacent to his own.
From Piper.
Nay.Nay, nay, nay.
Elijah ran.
8
Elijah burst through the door of the chambers, his sword half-drawn, every instinct screamingthreat, danger, protect.
He came to an abrupt halt.
