“This is completely inappropriate,”she muttered.
“Then why dinnaeye tell anyone about the scars?”
Piper was quiet for a moment.Then, so softly he almost didn’t hear, she said, “Because they’re nae pretty. And I dinnae want anyone to see.”
Something in Elijah’schest twisted at those words, but he forced himself to remain focused. “Let me see, lass.”
Piper’s handsstilled on the laces. “Promise ye willnae… willnae look at me differently. After.”
“I promise.”
Slowly,Piper pulled the dress down to her waist, keeping her front covered but exposing her back to him.
Elijah’s breath caught.
Her back wasa map of old pain. Scars crisscrossed her skin, some thin and faded, obviously old. Others were newer, still pink and raised. Some looked like they’d come from a belt or strap. Others were clearly from something sharper.
Rage—hot,fierce, and absolute—flooded through him.
“Who did this to ye?”His voice came out as a growl.
“Me parents mostly. The older ones.”Piper’s voice was steady, matter-of-fact. “They’d beat me when they lost at gamblin’. Or when they were drunk. Or when they just felt like it.”
“And the newer ones?”
“From the captors.But they’re nae as bad as they could have been.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I wasnae defiant like Gabriella. Dinnae fight back, dinnae cause trouble. And I wasnae like Madison, who managed to escape once. So, they dinnae hurt me as much.”
“That’s nae…”Elijah stopped, forcing himself to breathe. To think past the fury. “That’s nae somethin’ to be ashamed of, Piper. Survivin’ however ye could, that took strength.”
“Did it?”Piper’s laugh was bitter. “Or was it cowardice? I did what they wanted. Let them push me around. And they kept me mostly unmarred because…” she stopped.
“Because what?”
“Because I wasnae pretty enough.”The words came out flat. “The other lasses—Gabriella, Madison, even wee Flora—they were bonnie. The kind of women men want. But me? I’m plumpand plain, and the captors worried the hunters wouldnae want me. So they tried to keep me without too many visible marks.”
Elijah stared at her back,at the scars, at the matter-of-fact way she said those words. As if she actually believed them.
“Ye think ye’re nae pretty,”he said slowly.
“I ken I’m nae pretty.”Piper started to pull her dress back up. “It’s nae a tragedy. It just is.”
“Stop.”Elijah’s hand shot out, stopping her from covering herself. “Daenae move.”
“Elijah.”
“Ye actually believe that,daenae ye? That ye’re nae beautiful?”
“I’m nae.”
“Ye’re wrong.”Elijah moved closer, his fingers tracing the air just above her scars—not touching, not yet. “Ye’re so bloody wrong it’s almost funny.”
“I ken what I look like,”Piper said, her voice tight. “I’ve had it pointed out to me for me entire life. Me parents called me fat. The villagers called me plain. The captors said I wasnae pretty enough.”
“They were all blind fools.”Elijah’s voice was rough. “Every single one of them.”
“Ye daenae haveto try to make me feel better.”
“I’m nae just sayin’it to be kind, Piper.” He finally let himself touch her—his fingers trailing gently over a particularly nasty scar on her shoulder blade. “When ye ran into me arms that day in the forest, do ye ken what I thought?”
