She held his gaze long enough for him to understand she meant it. Then she looked toward the stable door, where the light came in cold and clear.
“We deal with it from here,” she said. “But Noah.” She looked back at him. “Daenae do that again. Decide what I need to ken and when. That’s nae yer call to make.”
He looked at her steadily. “Understood.”
“Right,” she said. “Take me to Esther.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Ava, stop.”
William. Still here.
Noah saw it the moment he stepped out of the stable behind Ava. William standing twenty feet away in the courtyard, not walking, not mounting, simply standing with his back to them and his hands at his sides. The horse was tied at the far post. Untouched.
“Go inside,” Noah said quietly.
Ava stopped beside him. “Noah.”
“Ava.” He kept his eyes on his brother’s back. “Take Esther upstairs. Stay with her.”
He saw her read the situation quickly and accurately. Then her footsteps moved away across the courtyard toward the castle door.
William turned. His face had changed. The pleasant expression was gone, not just dropped but discarded, like a man drops something he no longer has any use for.
“Always so commandin’,” William sneered. “Get the women inside. Clear the field.” He tilted his head. “Very Lairdly of ye.”
“Ye should go.”
“I’ll go when I’m ready.” He took a step forward. “Ye always did that. Our whole lives. Stood there being good and steady and correct and watched me fall short and never once, nae once, offered a hand—only management. Always management,” he said the word with a specific contempt. “There’s a difference between a brother and a laird, and ye never bothered to learn it.”
“I tried.”
“Ye tried to contain me.” His voice was rising. “Same as Father. Keep William manageable. Keep William at arm’s length. Give him just enough to feel like he has somethin’ and pull it back the moment he gets too close to what actually matters.” He spread his hands. “I wanted to serve this clan. I was capable. I was here. And ye never once let me close enough to try. Ye just sat in that chair with yer ring on yer hand and decided what everyone else was allowed to be.”
“The lairdship passed to me because I’m the eldest. That’s the law. That’s always been the law.”
“The law,” William said it like something small and rotten. “Aye, very convenient, the law. Tell me, when our father was dyin’, when every decision about what came next was being made, who was in that room? Who was there when he drew his last breath, with every piece already in place, and I was nowhere near it?”
“Ye werenae there because ye’d already left. Ye’d been gone months before he fell ill. I didnae drive ye out, ye left.”
“Ye made it impossible to stay.” The words came out ragged. “Ye were everywhere. Every decision, every meeting, every crisis. Always Noah, always the one they called on. And I was standin’ two steps behind ye me whole life, being told to wait, be patient. Yer time will come, William, and it never came. Because ye made certain it never came.”
“That’s nae what happened.”
“That is exactly what happened.” He was moving now, properly, crossing the courtyard with purpose. “So ye’ll forgive me if I daenae accept yer version of events. Ye’ve always had a talent for writin’ the story where ye come out lookin’ righteous. The good Laird. The responsible one. The man who stepped up when no one else would.” His lip curled. “What a performance. And everyone believed it.”
“It isnae a performance. It’s just what had to be done.”
“By ye.” William stopped five feet away. “Always by ye. Because ye made sure there was never anyone else capable. Never trusted me with anythin’ real, never gave me anythin’ worth havin’.”
He stopped. His jaw worked. “And now ye have me daughter. And ye’ve let that woman fill her head until me own blood presses herself against a stranger rather than look at me.”
“Esther isnae against ye,” Noah said, and his voice had gone very quiet. “She’s afraid of ye. Those are different things, William. Ye did that. Nae me. Nae Ava.”
Something shifted in William’s expression, the calculation dropping, something rawer surfacing beneath it.
“She was always sensitive.”
