“I was hopin’ we could continue from last night.” She could feel herself blush, but she forced her eyes to meet his. She needed to know if she had broken through his withdrawal last night.
One corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, but he said nothing more.
So, that’s how you intend to be?
Francesca drew a slow breath, sitting up and folding her arms across her chest. “So last night… it changes nothing, does it?”
Declan looked at her, his eyes now shuttered. “We’re married. That’s change enough.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she pressed, her hand flaying in frustration. “You act as though nothing happened.”
His mouth tightened. “Because what happened is what should happen between man and wife. It’s nae more complicated than that.”
Francesca blinked. Her gaze searched him, confusion taking over her thoughts.
Her voice shook. “Declan.”
He cut her off, turning, eyes hard though his chest ached. “Ye’ll heed what I said from the start. This is about duty. About the clan. Nae about love.” He ran a hand through his hair. “This… this cannae be more.”
Silence stretched, and Francesca tried to hide her pain. She pulled the sheet tight around her, chin high, though she knew her eyes glistened. With each word that came out of him, it felt as though he were slapping her. “History cannae repeat itself, lass. I willnae make the same mistake as me parents.”
She gave a small, sad smile. “At least Eloise is safe. That’s all I ever wanted, that she’d be protected, no matter what becomes of me.”
Declan’s gaze flickered. “I can give ye me word on that. Both ye and the lassie are safe with me. But I must do what is expected of a laird. An heir. Alliances. The clan first, always. And nay distraction from duty.”
She held his eyes, refusing to let her voice falter. “We clearly want different things then. But I thank you for your generosity toward me and Eloise. If that’s all there is between us, then it will have to be enough.”
Something unreadable flashed across his face, but he only gave the smallest nod.
“Now come, lass. Let’s fetch yer kittens and head back before the entire village wonders if we are havin’ a second wedding night at this run-down inn.”
Francesca felt her face redden, but she slipped out of the bed and, turning her back to him. After a moment, she heard the sound of the door opening, then slamming shut. The fact that he walked out like that, without even a word, put a finality to their discussion that made her entire body sag.
She was downstairs in minutes and found the innkeeper serving Declan some tea. He put down the jug, pulling out the cats that were wriggling in his apron. “Ah, here they are, Me Lady. Hungry wee things, but lively as ever.”
Francesca’s eyes lit up. “Oh, look at them!” She reached out as he gently lowered the kittens into her shawl. They burrowed against the fabric, blinking up at her with wide, curious eyes.
“They’ll settle fine with ye,” the innkeeper said with a smile. “Near purred themselves to sleep in the cook’s arms last night, though the cook swears they’ve lungs like bairns.”
Francesca laughed softly, stroking the soft fur. “I don’t mind a bit of noise. Eloise will think them perfect.”
“Safe travels, Me Lady, Me Laird. The lassie will be pleased.”
“I’m certain she will,” Francesca said warmly, hugging the kittens closer. “Thank you for keeping them safe during the night.”
“’Twas no trouble.” The man bustled back inside, leaving them by the horses.
Declan shook his head as Francesca adjusted her shawl around the kittens. “Mark me words, lass, ye’ll regret carryin’ them like that in yer shawl.”
Francesca laughed. “Then I shall consider every scratch a badge of courage.”
They rode back in silence, Francesca once again seated in front of him on the stallion. But while yesterday’s journey had been charged with anticipation, today’s was thick with unspoken words and carefully maintained distance. He held her only as much as necessary to keep her safely in the saddle, his body rigid behind hers.
The moment they dismounted in the courtyard, Eloise came flying out of the castle doors, Betsy hurrying after her.
“You’re back! Oh, did you get them? Did you bring the kittens?” The child bounced on her toes, her face alight with hope.
“We did.” Francesca couldn’t help smiling at her enthusiasm, reaching into her shawl to lift out the grey kitten. “This is thebold one. And this—” she retrieved the orange tabby, “—is the gentle one.”
