They satin comfortable silence for a while, watching the water. A fish jumped, creating ripples that spread across the surface. Birds called from the trees behind them.
“Ye ken a lot of stories,”Masie said finally. It wasn’t quite a compliment, but it wasn’t hostile either.
“Me neighbor taught me,”Piper said, her hand going to her necklace. “She knew hundreds of tales—Scottish legends, French fairy stories, Greek myths. She believed that stories were important. That they helped us understand the world and ourselves.”
“What happened to her?”Connor asked.
“She died.”The familiar ache settled in Piper’s chest. “An illness took her. I was with her at the end.”
“That’s sad,”Connor said quietly.
“Aye. It was.”Piper looked out at the water. “But she left me with all those stories. And her lessons. And the belief that kindness matters, even when the world is cruel.”
Masie was watchingher now with those sharp green eyes. “Is that why ye’re here? Because ye need a position and daenae have anywhere else to go?”
“Masie!”Connor protested. “That’s rude!”
“It’s nae rude,it’s honest. I want to ken why she really took this job. Because if our faither just hired her to get us out of his hair, I want to ken that now.”
Piper considered the question carefully.She could lie, making up a story about always wanting to be a governess. But these children, especially Masie, would see through it immediately.
“Ye’re right,”Piper said. “I did need a position. I had nowhere else to go and nay other prospects. So, when yer faither offered me this job, I took it.”
Masie’s expression hardened,as if this confirmed her worst suspicions.
“But,”Piper continued. “That’s nae the only reason I’m here. I took this position because I want to teach. Because I want to help. Because I remember what it was like to feel alone and forgotten, and I thought maybe… maybe I could make sure ye dinnae feel that way.”
“Well, that’s a nice thought,”Masie said bitterly. “But we already feel that way. Our faither barely kens we exist most of the time. At least if he wanted to get rid of us by hirin’ a governess, he picked a good person who tells good stories.”
The casual wayshe said it, the resignation in her voice, made Piper’s chest tighten.
“I daenae thinkyer faither wants to get rid of ye,” Piper said carefully.
“Do ye nae?”Masie crossed her arms. “Me faither doesnae spend more than five minutes with us without him givin’ orders or yellin’ about somethin’ we did wrong. I daenae ken the last time he asked us how we were, or what we were thinkin’, or if we were happy.”
“I—”Piper started, but Masie wasn’t done.
“He doesnae care about us.He cares about his duty, and his honor, and his dead wife, who was apparently so perfect that nay one can ever measure up. He hired ye because a laird is supposed to provide education for his children, and he wanted to check that off his list. That’s all.”
“That’s nae true,”Connor said, but his voice was small. “Da cares about us. He just, he’s busy. He’s got the whole clan to look after, and that’s more important than?—”
He stopped abruptly,as if realizing what he was about to say.
“More important than us,”Masie finished for him. “Ye can say it, Connor. We both ken it’s true.”
“I daenae mind,”Connor said quickly. Too quickly. “I daenae need him anyway. I daenae even like him. He’s borin’ and serious and never fun, so why would I want him to pay attention to me?”
The lie was sotransparent it hurt to hear.
Piper lookedat these two children—Masie with her brittle defiance, Connor with his forced cheerfulness—and saw herself. Saw the girl she’d been, desperate for her parents’ love but pretending she didn’t care when it never came.
It wasn't her business.Elijah himself had told her so.
But maybe shecould be something for them. Maybe she could give them what Alexandra had given her—a safe place, a listening ear, someone who actually cared.
Before she could second-guess herself,Piper slid off the rock and knelt in front of the children. They both looked at her with surprise.
“Come here,”Piper said softly, opening her arms.
