She took another sip of dram, this one larger. “There’s nae much to tell. I ran away when I was sixteen. Made me way to the village, found work, survived. That’s all.”
But that wasn’t all. Noah could see the pain flickering behind her carefully neutral expression and hear the things she wasn’t saying in the flatness of her voice.
“Why did ye run?” he asked gently.
“Because stayin’ meant...” She cut herself off, took another drink. “It meant continuin’ to be someone I didnae want to be. Continuin’ to accept things I shouldnae have to accept.”
Noah’s hands tightened on his glass. “Yer father.”
It wasn’t a question. He’d seen how she rubbed her arm that night at the cottage and noticed her flinch sometimes when voices were raised. The pieces had been adding up for days.
Ava didn’t confirm or deny it, just stared into her dram. “I havenae seen him in seven years. I daenae even ken if he’s still alive.”
“And ye daenae want to ken.”
“Nay.” Her voice was hard now, brittle. “Some people daenae deserve to be remembered. Daenae deserve to have their children wonderin’ about them or carin’ if they’re well.”
Noah wanted to push, wanted to demand the full story so he could ride out and find the bastard who’d hurt her. But he forced himself to stay seated, to keep his voice level.
“If ye ever change yer mind,” he said carefully. “If ye ever tell me his name, I’ll make sure he’s punished for what he did to ye.”
Ava’s head snapped up, her green eyes wide. “What? Nay. There’s nay need for that.”
“There’severyneed.” Noah leaned forward, intensity burning in his chest. “Ye’re under me protection now, Ava. That means anyone who’s hurt ye answers to me.”
“That was years ago! It doesnae matter anymore!”
“It matters to me.”
The words hung in the air between them, carrying more weight than Noah had intended. Ava looked at him, her breath quickening, her cheeks flushing not just because of the dram.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why would ye care what happened to some village lass seven years ago?”
She was looking at him across the table, her lips parted and waiting, and Noah realized he couldn’t look away from her mouth. Her cheeks were still flushed, a deep rose that had spread down her throat. Her breath came in a careful, measured way, as if she was trying to keep herself very still.
He watched her chest rise. Fall. Rise again.
Why do I care?
He reached across the table and tucked the loose strand of hair from her cheek, the same one that had been distracting him for the past ten minutes.
His fingers felt steadier than he realized. He lowered his hand.
“Because ye’re mine to protect now,” he said. The words came out darker than he intended, possessive in a way that had nothing to do with duty and everything to do with the fact that the thought of someone putting their hands on her made something savage rise in his chest. “That’s all.”
It wasn’t all, but he wasn’t going to examine what else it was.
“I daenae like the thought of anyone hurtin’ ye and gettin’ away with it.”
“Well. Thank ye. But I daenae need ye to fight me battles for me. I’ve been doin’ just fine on me own.”
“Aye, ye have.” Noah poured more dram into both their glasses. “Tell me about the orphanage. How long have ye been volunteerin’ there?”
The change of subject was deliberate, and Ava seemed grateful for it. She took a breath, composing herself.
“Since I first arrived in the village. Mrs. Crawford, the woman who runs it, gave me a place to stay when I had nothin’. Let me sleep in the back room in exchange for help with the children.” Ava’s expression softened. “I fell in love with them immediately. All these wee ones who’d lost their families, who had no one to care for them. I wanted to give them what I’d never had.”
“Love,” Noah said quietly.
