“Aye. Love and safety and the feelin’ that someone actually wanted them around.” She took another sip. “When I got the job at the tavern and could afford me own cottage, I kept volunteerin’. And I started givin’ part of me wages to help keep the place runnin’. It was never enough, but it was somethin’.”
“That’s why ye asked for those wages. Ye were thinkin’ about the orphanage.”
“I was thinkin’ about survivin’ and havin’ enough left over to help them survive too.” Ava laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Pathetic, really. All those years scrapin’ by, never havin’ enough for meself because I kept givin’ it away.”
“It’s nae pathetic.” Noah’s voice was firm. “It’s one of the most selfless things I’ve ever heard. Ye went without so that the children could have a bit more. That’s nae pathetic, Ava. That’s extraordinary.”
She looked at him with such surprise, as if no one had ever told her that before. “I just... I couldnae let them suffer if I could help it. I ken what it’s like to be a child no one wants. I couldnae...” Her voice cracked. “I couldnae let them feel that way if I had any power to stop it.”
Noah’s chest felt tight.
He wanted to reach across the table, take her hand, and tell her that she was wanted now—that he wanted her in ways that went far beyond employer and employee.
Instead, he poured more dram.
They drank in comfortable silence for a while, the initial tension fading as the alcohol warmed them both. Ava’s posture relaxed, her walls coming down bit by bit as the dram did its work.
“Can I ask ye somethin’?” she said eventually, her words slightly slurred. She was on her third glass now, and the flush in her cheeks had spread down her neck.
“Anythin’.”
“Why did ye really hire me?” Ava’s eyes were unfocused but curious. “And daenae say it was just because Esther wanted me to come. Ye could have convinced her to leave without me if ye’d really wanted to.”
Noah considered his answer carefully. “Because when I walked into that orphanage and saw ye standin’ between Esther and me, refusin’ to back down even though ye were terrified, I saw somethin’ I’d been searchin’ for for two years.”
“What’s that?”
“Someone who’d protect her the way she deserves to be protected. Nae because it’s their job or because they’re bein’ paid, but because they genuinely want to.” Noah met her gaze steadily. “And because in that moment, I realized that if I left without ye, I’d be lettin’ somethin’ precious slip through me fingers.”
Ava blinked slowly, processing his words through the dram fog. A strand of hair had come loose from her braid, falling across her cheek. She didn’t seem to notice it, but he did.
“Somethin’ precious?” she said. “Ye mean... me ability to care for Esther?”
She looked up at him as she asked it, and he watched her chest rise with the breath she took, the slight parting of her lips as she waited for his answer.
“Aye,” Noah said. “That.”
He reached across the table before thinking and gently tucked the loose strand of hair back from her face. His fingers barely grazed her cheek, and he quickly pulled his hand away.
Ava went very still. Silence stretched between them. Her eyes stayed on his face while his looked elsewhere. Then she swallowed, and he noticed the movement at her throat, and Christ, he really needed to look somewhere else.
He refilled her glass instead.
“Ye’re a good man, Noah MacGregor,” Ava said softly, her words definitely slurred now. “Better than ye give yerself credit for. Better than most men I’ve met.”
“Ye’re drunk, lass.”
“Maybe a wee bit.” She giggled, actually giggled, and Noah found the sound devastatingly charming. “But I’m nae so drunk I daenae mean it. Ye’re good. And kind. And ye care so much about yer people, about Esther, about...” She waved her hand vaguely. “About everythin’.”
“Ava.”
“And ye’re handsome too,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Very handsome. Too handsome, really. It’s quite distractin’ when I’m tryin’ to eat dinner and ye’re sittin’ there lookin’ like some kind of warrior god, all broad shoulders and dark eyes and...” She stopped suddenly, her eyes going wide. “Oh nay. Did I say that out loud?”
Noah fought to keep his expression neutral even as heat flooded through him. “Aye, lass. Ye did.”
“Shite.” She put her head down on the table with a soft thunk. “Ye must think I’m completely, completely…” She struggled for the word. “Ridiculous.”
“I think ye’re drunk,” Noah said. “And I think ye should stop talkin’ before ye say somethin’ ye cannae take back.”
