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James is not with her, which surprises me for half a breath until I remember that if he had his way right now, he would likely carry her about tucked under one arm like something precious and breakable and snarl at anyone who came near.

Her lip looks awfully painful. The mark on her cheek has deepened ugly and red. There’s weariness in her too, though it sits differently than it does on Aileen. Not fear, exactly. More akin to tiredness that comes after fury has burned itself out and left only an ache behind.

Still, she lifts a brow when she sees me looking.

“If ye stare any harder, I’ll charge ye for the privilege.”

I huff a laugh and go to her at once. “Are you sure you ought to be up? You look as though a cart ran over your face.”

Ellen rolls her eyes and comes farther in. “James has already tried to force that issue.”

“I knew it.”

“Oh, aye.” Ellen’s mouth tilts despite the swelling. “He informed me, in the manner of a man who thinks himself commandin’, that I was to lie down at once and not move ‘til mornin’, or he’d make me.”

I grin. “And?”

“And I told him if he kept at it, he’d be sleepin’ out in the stables until my wounds healed.”

That gets a proper laugh from me. Even Maeve’s mouth twitches.

“Did he believe ye?” I ask.

“Not at first,” Ellen says dryly. “Then I told him if he so much as laid a hand on me with that purpose, I’d knee him so hard between his legs he’d feel it for a fortnight.”

“Poor James,” I say.

“Mm,” Maeve says. “He’ll survive the injury to his pride.”

I mutter behind my hand, “Saints preserve us. Not a scrap of loyalty in this house. Sometimes it’s your own mam betrayin’ you!”

Maeve turns at once and catches my cheek in a quick, playful pinch.

“Hush, you wee menace.”

I laugh, rubbing at my cheek as though she has mortally wounded me.

When Maeve turns from me and looks at Ellen, the mirth leaves her face at once. She gathers her close, before Ellen can mutter a word, one hand coming up to cup the back of her head.

“My sweet girl,” she says, her voice thickening. “Tá grá agam duit. Ye’ll always have a place here. D’ye hear me? Always.”

At that, my throat tightens so fast it near catches me off guard.

These feckin’ Sinclairs and all the love in their hearts.

Ellen gives a small, shaky laugh that doesn’t mask the feeling under it, and I have to look away a moment before they catch me tearing up like a fool.

Maeve steps back at last and smooths a hand over Ellen’s hair, her own eyes bright.

“I’ll give you ladies some time to breathe,” she says, and turns back to Aileen.

“Come,” she says softly. “Let’s go where it’s quieter.”

Aileen stands slowly, and Maeve takes her off toward the back room with a hand at her elbow, leaving Ellen and me by the hearth.

I set to examining the whole of her.

Ellen sees the worry in my face at once, because her own expression changes. She moves to sit at the bench in front of the hearth.