“Yers?”
The word hungin the air. Elijah wanted to deny it, to say that wasn’t what he meant at all. But the fierce possessiveness that had surged through him when Declan made that crude comment about Piper, that wasn’t the protective instinct of a laird for his people.
That was something else entirely.
“Just watchwhat ye say about her,” Elijah said finally, sinking back into his chair. “She’s been through enough without ye addin’ to it.”
“Fair enough.”Declan studied him. “But ye ken she’s right, daenae ye? About the children?”
“I kenshe thinks she’s right.”
“That’s nae an answer.”
Elijah wasquiet for a long moment. “If she kent what really happened with their maither,” he said finally, his voice low. “If she kent the whole truth about how Catherine died and why, she’d be beggin’ me to stay away from them. She’d understand that I’m dangerous to have around.”
“That’s shite,and ye ken it.”
“Is it?”Elijah looked up at his friend. “I failed Catherine. I was too slow, too distracted. And she died because of it. What makes ye think I wouldnae fail me children too?”
“Because they’re nae Catherine,who, by the way, ye couldnae stand,” Declan said bluntly. “And because the only way ye’re guaranteed to fail them is by keepin’ them at arm’s length for the rest of their lives.”
Before Elijah could respond,Declan stood and headed for the door.
“Think about what she said,”Declan called back. “And maybe—just maybe—let yerself actually be a faither to those bairns. Before it’s too late.”
Then he was gone,leaving Elijah alone with his thoughts and the echo of Piper’s words.
‘If ye could lovetheir maither enough to have them, then ye can love them too.’
But that was the problem,wasn’t it?
He hadn’t loved Catherine.Not really. Not the way a husband should love a wife.
And maybe that’swhy he’d failed her.
Two days passed.
Two daysof Piper throwing herself into her duties as governess, determined to avoid thinking about Elijah. About their fight. About the kiss that still haunted her dreams.
She saw him occasionally—glimpsesacross the great hall during meals, his retreating back in corridors, his voice drifting from behind closed doors. But they never spoke. Never even acknowledged each other beyond the barest of nods.
It was for the best,Piper told herself. She’d overstepped. Had said things she had no right to say. The fact that he hadn’t dismissed her yet was a miracle.
She should begrateful for the distance.
So why didit hurt so much?
“Excellent work, Connor,”Piper said, examining the boy’s arithmetic. They were in what had been designated as the schoolroom, a bright chamber on the second floor with large windows overlooking the gardens. “Ye’ve got all of these correct.”
“Really?”Connor’s face lit up. “All of them?”
“Every single one.”Piper smiled at his enthusiasm. “Ye’re very good with numbers.”
“That’s because numbers make sense,”Connor said. “They follow rules. Nae like people.”
Piper’s smile faltered slightly.“What do ye mean?”
“People are confusin’.”Connor bent over his slate, starting on the next set of problems. “They say one thing but mean another. They promise things and then forget. Numbers never do that.”
