“And when,” he said slowly, “did ye decide tae start playing the role of the dutiful wife?”
The words were not harsh, only guarded. It was as though he needed the armor of distance between them.
“Perhaps,” she said quietly, “it has naething tae dae with duty.”
“Nay?” he asked. “Then what is it?”
Davina froze. What was it?
She did not fully know. She only knew that seeing him exhausted, hollow-eyed, and alone had pulled at something in her heart she hadn’t expected. She knew she had carried that tray up three flights of stairs with trembling hands, unsure whether he would welcome her or send her away. She knew it mattered to be there.
Stil, her lips parted, but no words came.
Baird rose from his chair slowly, as though any sudden movement might startle her. He rounded the desk, stopping a short distance away. Now, he was close enough that she felt the warmth of him, yet still far enough he didn’t crowd her.
“Davina,” he said, softer this time. “If it’s nae duty… then tell me what brought ye here.”
Her throat tightened. She looked down at the tray so she wouldn’t have to meet those storm-gray eyes, so she wouldn’t drown in all she wasn’t ready to confess.
“I just…” She swallowed. “Ye’ve had so much on yer shoulders and ye ferget tae eat. And… and it’s nae good fer ye. Fer anyone, really. I only thought—” Her voice faltered. “I only thought it might help.”
Baird stepped close and she felt the brush of his presence before he touched anything at all. Carefully, he took the tray from her hands, his fingers grazing hers for the briefest moment. The touch sent a shock up her arm, hot and startling.
Without looking away from her, he carried the tray to the writing table and set it down. Then he turned back toward her. He stopped just short of her, close enough that she had to tip her head back to hold his gaze. Davina’s breath stilled. Her skin prickled beneath the wool of her gown.
“So,” he said quietly, his voice like a low rumble in the space between them, “is that all ye came fer, Davina?”
Her mouth went dry. She should leave. She knew it. Every sensible thought she possessed whispered that she ought to turn, open the door, and retreat while her pride was still intact.
But she couldn’t move.
His eyes held hers. They swept over her face slowly, lingering as though he were memorizing the shape of her, the tremble in her breath, the faint flush at her throat.
She swallowed a tremor. “I… I brought supper.”
“Aye,” he murmured, stepping closer still. The space between their bodies narrowed to a whisper. “But that’s nae what I asked.”
Her pulse hammered at her ribs. She could hear it in her ears.
“Baird…” Her voice cracked. She hated how unsure it sounded.
His gaze flicked to her lips. Shefeltthat look.
Heat surged through her in that wicked, unfamiliar and frightening intensity. She wanted him to close that final inch, to gather her in his arms, to kiss her until all the confusion in her chest made sense.
Shame followed swiftly. She had no right to want such things, not when their marriage had been born of tragedy and not when she barely understood her own heart.
“I should go,” she whispered.
But she didn’t move. She didn’t even shift her weight.
Baird’s breath stirred a loose strand of her hair. “Why?” he asked, but the question was a mere breath. “Why has ye been keeping away?”
She blinked, surprised by the gentleness in his tone.
“I had tae,” she whispered again, firmer this time. “But, I… I didnae ken ye noticed.”
“I notice a lot more than ye ken,” he revealed. “Fer example, the way ye tuck yer feet beneath ye when sitting by the fire.”
