“A woman like ye always has a choice, Hannah.”
While she had still been pondering the meaning ofthat, Lucas had turned away, urging his horse into a canter, and left her behind. She’d stared after him for a moment before turning to the cottage.
Violet needs me.
And yet, Violet didn’t seem to need her quite as much as she had anticipated. Meals had been cooked without her input, and the distillery still seemed to be working fine. The quality of the housework had taken a dip, that was true, but a little dust never killed anyone.
Above her, the spider had the rough bones of its web completed. It paused for a moment, knitting its legs together, as if taking a break before preparing the next stage of its building work.
Hurry up, little spider.Violet will come along soon when she notices all the cobwebs and dust. She’ll use a duster to knock down yer precious house and sweep ye away if ye arenae careful. So, spin quickly, catch a few flies, and make yer escape while ye can, eh?
As if hearing her, the spider began to spin again.
A creak in the doorway caught her attention. She glanced up to find Violet standing there, eyeing her worriedly. She wore a well-worn cloak, ragged and patched in places, and carried a basket slung over the crook of one arm.
“Were ye just talking to that spider?” she queried.
Had I spoken aloud? Oops.
“Nay,” Hannah responded defensively.
Violet’s eyebrows rose. “Hmph. Well, ye daenae look good. Ye are pale, and I ken ye arenae sleeping well. I hear ye tossing and turning. What is it? Are ye cold?”
She glanced questioningly at the fire, but Hannah shook her head.
“I have slept too often on featherbeds, Violet. I am struggling to sleep on straw now. It’s me own fault.”
“It isnaeyer fault,” Violet countered.
Abruptly, she set down the basket and turned to the fire. Almost aggressively, she began piling up firewood and kindling. Within a few short moments, a small flame had begun to take root, climbing over the pyre.
Hannah watched in amusement. “Do ye think that me problems will be solved by a good wee blaze, Violet?”
“Nay,” Violet responded briskly. “But I think ye will be less miserable crying while ye are warm instead of crying while ye are cold.”
Hannah’s face heated. “I havenae been crying.”
She had, of course. A few stray tears had found their way onto her pillow night after night. She had been careful, though, hadn’t she? No sobbing, no bawling, nothing that would attract attention. Had Violet noticed anyway?
She narrowed her eyes at her sister’s back. “Ye have recovered well.”
“Aye, thanks to ye, Hannah. I willnae watch ye slip away for want of care, nae after what ye did for me.” Rising to her feet, Violet wiped her palms on her apron and watched, pleased, as the flames roared higher. At last, she turned to Hannah, lifting her eyebrows. “Here’s an idea. Why daenae ye come with me to the market?”
“Nay,” Hannah answered at once. “Absolutely nae.”
“Daenae be so sharp about it.”
“I am nae sharp.”
“Ye are. And it would be good for ye. Ye could get some fresh air, see people…”
“See people?” Hannah scoffed. “Nae bloody likely.”
Violet huffed, folding her arms. “I daenae care for that language.”
“Nay, of course ye daenae.”
“Please, Hannah.”
