Before Declan could formulate a response to that innocent observation, Fraser’s voice cut through the garden.
“There ye are, cousin. I should have known I’d find ye discussin’ the matrimonial prospects of livestock.”
“He’s not livestock,” Eloise protested. “He’s my friend.”
“Me apologies, wee one.” Fraser bowed with exaggerated solemnity. “I meant nay offense to Bluebell’s honor.”
Eloise beamed at Fraser. “Bluebell’s going to have a wife.”
“So I heard.” Fraser crouched down, inspecting the rabbit. “A brave lad, rushin’ into wedlock. Hope he doesnae regret it.”
Eloise giggled and set the rabbit down, immediately chasing after him as he hopped toward a patch of clover. Fraser dropped onto the stone bench beside where Declan had been standing, his expression far too knowing.
“So, Lady Gretchen has arrived.”
“Aye. Francesca’s aunt.” Declan remained standing, watching Eloise play. “Stayin’ at her estate nearby, apparently.”
“How convenient. Now she can pop in whenever she likes to ensure her niece is being properly treated by her fearsome Highland husband.”
“I would never mistreat Francesca,” Declan huffed, indignant. “Though aye, I suppose I could be seen as fearsome to some.”
Fraser snorted. “For instance, Tavish, who still cannae meet yer eyes after the ceilidh incident.”
“He insulted Eloise,” Declan growled at the memory.
“Aye, and ye defended her like she was yer own blood. Rather paternal of ye, cousin.” Fraser’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Almost like ye’ve become attached to the wee Sassenach and her beautiful mother.”
“Daenae start.”
“Start what? I’m merely observin’ that married life seems to suit ye. Even if ye are still pretendin’ it doesnae.” He smirked. “So how goes married life, cousin? Settlin’ in with the Sassenach ways?”
Declan’s jaw tightened. “Nothin’ has changed, Fraser.”
“Hasnae it?” Fraser gestured to where Eloise was now trying to coax Bluebell out from under a bush. “That child adores ye. She trusts ye enough to hold yer hand in front of strangers. She talksabout ye constantly to anyone who’ll listen. And ye look at her like she’s precious.”
“She’s a child. Of course, she’s precious.”
“Aye, but she’s yer child now. Whether ye admit it or nae.” Fraser’s tone gentled slightly. “And her mother… well. The way ye look at Francesca is somethin’ else entirely.”
“I daenae.”
“Ye do. Everyone sees it except the two of ye. The longin’. The wantin’. The way ye both dance around each other like circling wolves.” Fraser leaned back, crossing his arms. “It would be amusin’ if it werenae so bloody frustratin’ to watch.”
“There’s nothin’ to watch.” Declan’s hands clenched into fists. “What happens between me and me wife is none of yer concern.”
“It is when it’s affectin’ yer mood enough that the entire castle is walkin’ on eggshells around ye.” Fraser’s voice sharpened. “Ye cannae keep doing this, Declan. Wantin’ her but pushin’ her away. Treatin’ her like a stranger. It’s cruel to her, and it’s torture for ye.”
“I’m protectin’ her.”
“From what? Happiness? God forbid the woman might actually want to care for ye. God forbid ye might care back.”
“I willnae make me father’s mistake!” The words burst out before Declan could stop them. “I willnae let meself become so attached that I lose sight of what matters. The clan needs me.”
“The clan is fine,” Fraser interrupted. “The clan would be better if their laird wasnae tyin’ himself in knots tryin’ nae to feel things. Ye think they daenae see it? Ye think they daenae wonder why their laird’s new wife looks so sad sometimes?”
“She’s nae sad.”
“She is. And ye know it.” Fraser stood, moving to block Declan’s view of Eloise. “Ye’re doing everythin’ yer father did but in reverse. Ye’re puttin’ all yer energy into keepin’ distance, into maintainin’ control, into pretendin’ ye dinnae feel what ye clearly feel.” Fraser’s dark eyes bore into his.
