Chapter 8
Elijah burst through the door of the chambers, his sword half-drawn, every instinct screaming threat, danger, protect.
He came to an abrupt halt.
Piper stood pressed into the far corner of the room, clad in only a thin white nightgown that left very little to the imagination.
Her blonde hair hung loose around her shoulders, and her face was pale with terror. She was staring at the window, one hand clutched to her chest, the other pressed against the wall as if she needed it to stay upright.
“Piper—” Elijah started, but she cut him off.
“There’s someone at the window,” she gasped, her voice shaking. “I saw… there are eyes, someone’s there.”
Elijah’s gaze snapped to the window. Sure enough, in the moonlight filtering through the glass, he could make out a pair of eyes staring back at him. Small eyes. Young eyes.
Christ.
He knew those eyes.
Fury surged through him, hot and immediate. He crossed the room in three long strides, wrenched the window open, and reached out into the darkness. His hand closed around a slim arm, and he hauled the intruder inside with perhaps more force than necessary.
Masie tumbled through the window and landed in an ungraceful heap on the floor.
She looked up at him with wide eyes—his eyes, the same green he saw in the mirror every morning—and her face cycled rapidly through shock, defiance, and then carefully constructed innocence.
“Da.”
“What in God’s name do ye think ye’re doin’?” Elijah’s voice came out as a growl. He was aware of Piper watching from her corner, aware that he probably looked half-mad with fury, but he didn’t care. “Climbin’ windows? Tryin’ to sneak into chambers that arenae yers? Have ye lost yer mind, lass?”
“I wasnae sneakin’ into her chambers,” Masie shot back, scrambling to her feet. Her dark hair—so like her mother’s—was windswept and tangled, and there was dirt on her dress from climbing. “This room was empty this mornin’. How was I supposed to ken ye’d gone and filled it without tellin’ anyone?”
“That doesnae answer me question. What were ye doin’ climbin’ windows in the dead of night?”
Masie’s jaw set in a stubborn line he knew all too well. She’d inherited that from him, along with his temper and his inability to back down from a fight.
“I was out,” she said defiantly. “And I dinnae want anyone to ken I was comin’ back late, so I used the window. I’ve done it dozens of times before.”
“Dozens of—” Elijah’s hands clenched into fists. “Ye’ve been climbin’ in and out of this castle like some common thief? Do ye have any idea how dangerous that is? Ye could fall! Ye could break yer neck!”
“I’m careful.”
“Careful?” His voice rose. “There’s nothin’ careful about scalin’ castle walls in the dark! And what were ye doin’ out so late anyway? Where were ye?”
“That’s none of yer concern,” Masie said, lifting her chin. “Ye’re never here anyway. Why do ye suddenly care where I go or what I do?”
The words hit like a physical blow, and Elijah felt something crack in his chest. She was right. He wasn’t here. Hadn’t been, not really, for years. He’d let duty and guilt and his own failures as a husband blind him to his failures as a father.
But that didn’t change the fact that his twelve-year-old daughter had been climbing out of windows and God knew what else.
“We’ll discuss this later,” Elijah said, his voice tight. “Right now, ye owe Miss Armstrong an apology. Ye terrified her, appearin’ at her window like that.”
Masie’s eyes finally shifted to Piper, who was still pressed against the wall. The girl’s expression hardened.
"Miss Armstrong?" Masie repeated slowly, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "And who exactly is Miss Armstrong? Some woman ye picked up on yer travels?" “Masie!”
Her voice took on a sharp edge that sounded far too adult. "Is she here to replace Maither? Because if that's what ye're thinkin', ye can forget it."
“Masie Quinn, that is enough!” Elijah roared.
Piper made a small, choked sound. When Elijah looked at her, her face had gone from pale to bright red, her gray eyes wide with shock and humiliation.
“I’m… I’m nae,” Piper stammered, but the words seemed to stick in her throat.
“Ye’ll apologize,” Elijah said to Masie, his voice deadly quiet now. More dangerous in its control than it had been in anger. “Right now. Ye’ll apologize for insultin’ Miss Armstrong’s honor and for scarin’ her half to death.”
“Why should I?” Masie crossed her arms. “Ye bring some strange woman into our home without warnin’ anyone, put her in chambers right next to yers, and I’m supposed to just accept it? I’m supposed to curtsy and smile and pretend this is normal?”
“This room was empty this mornin’,” Elijah said through gritted teeth.
“As ye so helpfully pointed out. I wasnae here to tell anyone about Miss Armstrong because I just arrived home hours ago. And if ye’d been where ye were supposed to be instead of climbin’ through windows like a criminal, ye would have met her properly at supper. ”
"Oh, so this is me fault now?" Masie's voice rose, trembling with emotion.
"Everything's always me fault, isnae it?
Never mind that ye're gone all the time!
Never mind that ye barely talk to Connor and me when ye are here!
" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her anger burned through.
"Ye're so busy... so busy bein' sad all the time that ye forgot ye still have children who need ye!
" The words hung in the air like poison.
Elijah felt something inside him go very still. Very cold.
“Yer maither—”
“Was cruel and vain and cared about nothin’ but herself,” Masie finished. “Everyone kens it, Da. Everyone except ye, apparently. Ye’ve spent nine years actin’ like she was some sort of saint when the truth is she was awful.”
“Ye will nae speak of yer maither that way.”
“Why nae? It’s true!” Tears were gathering in Masie’s eyes now, though she blinked them back furiously.
“She hated us. Hated that we existed because we made her body less perfect. Hated that we took yer attention away from her. The only reason she tolerated us at all was that we were proof of her status as Lady McMahon!”
“That’s nae—” Elijah started, but stopped. Because parts of what Masie was saying were true. Catherine had been vain. Had been cruel in her own way. Had cared more about appearances than about her children.
But she had died because of him. He’d failed to save her.
“Miss Armstrong is yer new governess,” Elijah said, forcing his voice back to something resembling calm. “That’s all. She’s here to teach ye and Connor. To help ye with yer studies. There is nothin’ improper about her presence in this castle, and there never will be.”
Masie’s eyes narrowed. “A governess?”
“Aye. A governess.” Elijah glanced at Piper, who was still frozen against the wall. Her arms were wrapped around herself now, and she looked like she wanted to disappear into the stone. “We signed a contract this evenin’. She’ll be startin’ her duties tomorrow.”
“We daenae need a governess,” Masie said. “We’ve managed fine without one for years.”
“Ye’ve managed poorly,” Elijah corrected. “Yer handwritin’ is atrocious, yer French is practically nonexistent, and Connor cannae do sums to save his life. Ye need a governess, whether ye want one or nae.”
“And ye just happened to find one? Where? In a tavern somewhere?”
“Where I found her is none of yer concern.” Elijah’s patience was wearing dangerously thin. “What is yer concern is that she’s here now, under me protection, and ye will treat her with respect. Is that understood?”
Masie’s jaw worked as she fought some internal battle. Finally, she turned to Piper.
“I apologize for frightenin’ ye,” she said, the words clipped and cold. “And for… for what I said. About ye and me faither.”
It wasn’t a real apology. They all knew it. But it was as close as Masie was going to get in her current mood.
“Thank ye,” Piper said quietly. Her voice was steadier now, though Elijah could still see the tremor in her hands. “And I… I understand. If I’d found a stranger in me home without warnin’, I would have reacted poorly too.”
Masie blinked, clearly not expecting that response. For a moment, something like uncertainty flickered across her face. Then the defensive mask slammed back into place.
“I’m goin’ to bed,” she announced. “Me own bed. Through the door this time, since apparently the windows are nay longer safe.”
“Masie—” Elijah started, but his daughter was already moving toward the door.
She paused with her hand on the latch and looked back at him. “Ye should have told us ye were bringin’ someone home, Da. We deserved that much.”
Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her with careful precision. Not a slam, that would have been childish. Just a firm, final closing that somehow felt worse.
Silence fell over the room.
Elijah stood there, still holding his half-drawn sword, feeling like he’d just been through a battle. In some ways, he had. Arguments with Masie always felt like warfare—she had inherited his tactical mind along with his temper, and she knew exactly where to strike to cause the most damage.
“I’m sorry,” Piper’s voice broke through his thoughts. “I dinnae… I never meant to cause trouble between ye and yer daughter.”
Elijah turned to look at her. She’d finally moved away from the wall, though she still had her arms wrapped around herself. The nightgown his mother must have given her was too thin, too revealing, and Elijah forced himself to keep his eyes on her face.
“Ye dinnae cause anythin’,” he said. “Masie and I… we’ve been havin’ that fight for years. Ye just happened to be the excuse this time.”
“She hates me.” Piper’s voice was small. “I saw it in her eyes. She thinks I’m here to replace her maither or somethin’.”
“She doesnae hate ye. She doesnae even ken ye yet.” Elijah sheathed his sword, finally, and ran a hand through his hair. “She’s angry at me. Has been for a long time. And she takes that anger out on anyone who gets close enough to be a target.”
“That’s nae an excuse for what she said to me.”
“Nay, it’s nae. And I’ll speak with her about it tomorrow, when we’ve both calmed down.” He looked around the room—at the still-open window, at the mussed bedsheets where Piper must have been trying to sleep before Masie appeared. “Are ye all right? Truly?”
Piper nodded, though she didn’t look entirely convinced. “I’ve been through worse than a frightened girl climbin’ through me window.”
“That doesnae make it acceptable.”
“Nay. But it makes it bearable.” She moved to close the window, latching it shut. “Yer maither put me in these chambers, dinnae she? Right next to yers.”
It wasn’t really a question.
“Aye,” Elijah admitted. “She did. To tempt me, I’m guessin’.”
“To tempt ye?” There was something almost like amusement in Piper’s voice now. “Or to give ye easy access to yer new ‘conquest’?”
“To meddle,” Elijah said flatly. “Me maither is… determined to see me married again. She’s been pushin’ eligible lasses at me for years. When she saw ye arrive with me, she probably thought—”
“That I was yer betrothed.”
“Aye.”
“And when ye told her I was just the governess?”
“She was disappointed. But that dinnae stop her from puttin’ ye in these particular chambers.” Elijah grimaced. “I should have anticipated it. Should have specified where ye were to be housed. I’m sorry, Piper. If ye want different rooms, farther from mine, I can arrange it.”
Piper was quiet for a moment, studying him. “Are ye worried ye’ll be tempted?” she asked. “Is that why ye’re offerin’ to move me?”
“What? Nay, I—” Elijah stopped, realizing he’d walked into a trap. “I just thought ye might be more comfortable.”
“I’m fine here,” Piper interrupted. Her chin lifted, and there was a flash of the defiance he’d seen in the forest. “Ye made me a vow, Laird McMahon. That ye wouldnae touch me without permission. I’m choosin’ to trust that vow.
And if yer maither wants to play matchmaker, let her. It willnae change anythin’.”
“Ye’re very confident about that.”
“I’m confident in yer honor.” She paused. “Or at least, I’m choosin’ to be. Time will tell if I’m right.”
Elijah didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to explain that his honor was the only thing keeping him from crossing the room right now and—
Daenae even finish that thought.
“I should go,” he said abruptly. “Let ye get back to sleep. And I need to… I need to think about what to say to Masie tomorrow.”