With a deep breath, Max began.
He told Lyon about the serving lass at the inn, the one who’d caught his eye, whose hand he’d brushed the day of the ball. He skipped to the ball and told about dancing with the utterly intriguing lady in silver, who’d hinted at wanting to go into business with him, then lost her shoe.
Lyon nodded and lifted his fingertips to brush against his scarred cheek in a movement which looked unconscious. “They’re the same lass, are they no’?”
“How’d you know that?”
His brother shrugged. “Narrative causality. It’s easier to see this shite from afar, after it’s happened. So yer serving lass is also a lady?”
“She’s…I don’t know. She’s a talented engraver. She designed and made the shoes the baroness’s daughters wore to the ball.”
Lyon hummed. “Aye, I remember hearing about them from Keith. Impressive. So she snuck away from her serving duties to attend the ball?”
“She’s not a servant.” Max shook his head. “Maybe she is.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Her stepmother is the baroness, but she’s treated as a servant. Her father was a talented engraver, and Ember has his talent. And his passion.That’swhere she should be.”
“So what’s the issue?”
Max sighed and launched into the explanation of how he and Ember had accidentally neglected to explain exactly who they were to the other. “It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. Just…”
His brother grunted in commiseration. “So ye’re in love with her?”
“I am,” Max sighed.
“Which one? The lady, or the serving lass, or the engraver?”
“I fell in love withher,” Max announced sternly, straightening dropping both heels to the floor. “WithEmber. She’s not a lady, but she’s not just a serving lass either. She’s a brilliant inventor and artist, and she’s funny and talented, and she makes me happy.”
And ridiculously aroused, but he wasn’t going to mention that to his brother.
He sighed. “I like being around her, and I like learning about her skills. There’s absolutely no reason for me to have fallen in love so quickly, but I can’t stand the thought ofnothaving her in my future.” He glanced around the room. “Here. I want her to help build this place into a home.”
Home.
Home.
The word seemed to echo around the space, the emptiness that Max wanted to fill withher. Suddenly, he could see it, couldfeelit. He nodded firmly, although his brother hadn’t said anything.
That’s what he wanted, and now that he’d said it out loud, it seemed more…realsomehow.
“Ye ken…” Lyon stood, and took his time straightening his cuffs. “I used to be married. I thought I kenned all there was to ken about love. But that confession?” He finally raised his hazel gaze to Max’s, his expression oddly blank. “That was one-of-a-kind. Ye love yer Ember.”
It hadn’t been a question, but Max slumped, relieved. “Yes.” His breath whooshed out of him. “I do.”
His brother nodded and dropped his hands to his hips. “So what are ye going to do about it?”
Max winced and shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure how I’ve botched her opinion of me, but I have, and I need help fixing it.”
“Have ye told her this?”
“That I’ve bungled the whole thing?” Max nodded, then changed his mind and shook his head. “I’m not sure. She’s mad, but I don’t know if it’s me she’s mad at.”
His oldest brother snorted. “Imeantabout being in love with her.”
“Oh.” Had he told her he loved her? He hadn’t, had he? Max winced again. “Not exactly. I only just figured it out myself.”
Lyon’s gaze was intent, as if waiting for Max to figure shit out. “Well, then, I think ye ken what ye need to do, eh?”
Confused, Max shook his head. “If I knew that, I would havedone italready, not be sitting here all maudlin.”
