Chapter 13
“Well, well, well.”
Elijah didn’t need to look up to know Declan had reentered the study. He could hear the smirk in his friend’s voice.
“Daenae start,” Elijah warned, still staring at the papers on his desk. The words blurred before his eyes; he hadn’t actually read a single line since Piper had stormed out.
“Start what?” Declan’s voice dripped with false innocence. “I was just goin’ to comment on how impressively the new governess handles herself. Most women would be terrified to speak to ye like that. But her? She walked in here and tore ye apart like ye were nothin’ more than a misbehavin’ bairn.”
“She overstepped.”
“Did she?” Declan settled into the chair across from the desk. “Because from where I was standin’, it sounded like she said things that needed sayin’. Things that someone should have said years ago.”
“Ye daenae understand what ye are sayin’.”
“I understand that ye’re so busy protectin’ yer children from imaginary threats that ye’re hurtin’ them in ways that are very real.” Declan’s voice lost its teasing edge. “She’s right, Elijah. And ye ken it.”
Elijah’s hands clenched on the desk. “I’m doin’ what’s best for them.”
“Are ye? Or are ye doin’ what’s easiest for ye?”
“Get out.”
“In a moment.” Declan leaned forward. “But first, let me say this, that lass is somethin’ special. She’s got fire, intelligence, and she clearly cares about yer children. More than that, she’s nae afraid of ye. Do ye ken how rare that is?”
“I’m well aware.”
“And she’s bonnie too,” Declan continued, his grin returning. “All those curves. That defiant look in her eyes. I bet she’s feisty in bed, too. The passionate ones always are—”
Elijah was on his feet before he knew he was moving, his hands slamming on the desk. “Watch. Yer. Tongue.”
Declan’s eyebrows rose. “Touchin’ a nerve, am I?”
“Piper is under me protection. Ye’ll speak of her with respect, or ye’ll nae speak of her at all.”
“Oh, it’s Piper now, is it? Nae Miss Armstrong?”
“Declan.”
“And ye’re very protective of someone who’s just a governess.” Declan’s grin widened. “Very protective indeed.”
“She’s part of me household. That makes her—”
“Yers?”
The word hung in the air. Elijah wanted to deny it, to say that wasn’t what he meant at all. But the fierce possessiveness that had surged through him when Declan made that crude comment about Piper, that wasn’t the protective instinct of a laird for his people.
That was something else entirely.
“Just watch what ye say about her,” Elijah said finally, sinking back into his chair. “She’s been through enough without ye addin’ to it.”
“Fair enough.” Declan studied him. “But ye ken she’s right, daenae ye? About the children?”
“I ken she thinks she’s right.”
“That’s nae an answer.”
Elijah was quiet for a long moment. “If she kent what really happened with their maither,” he said finally, his voice low. “If she kent the whole truth about how Catherine died and why, she’d be beggin’ me to stay away from them. She’d understand that I’m dangerous to have around.”
“That’s shite, and ye ken it.”
“Is it?” Elijah looked up at his friend. “I failed Catherine. I was too slow, too distracted. And she died because of it. What makes ye think I wouldnae fail me children too?”
“Because they’re nae Catherine, who, by the way, ye couldnae stand,” Declan said bluntly. “And because the only way ye’re guaranteed to fail them is by keepin’ them at arm’s length for the rest of their lives.”
Before Elijah could respond, Declan stood and headed for the door.
“Think about what she said,” Declan called back. “And maybe—just maybe—let yerself actually be a faither to those bairns. Before it’s too late.”
Then he was gone, leaving Elijah alone with his thoughts and the echo of Piper’s words.
‘If ye could love their maither enough to have them, then ye can love them too.’
But that was the problem, wasn’t it?
He hadn’t loved Catherine. Not really. Not the way a husband should love a wife.
And maybe that’s why he’d failed her.
Two days passed.
Two days of Piper throwing herself into her duties as governess, determined to avoid thinking about Elijah. About their fight. About the kiss that still haunted her dreams.
She saw him occasionally—glimpses across the great hall during meals, his retreating back in corridors, his voice drifting from behind closed doors. But they never spoke. Never even acknowledged each other beyond the barest of nods.
It was for the best, Piper told herself. She’d overstepped. Had said things she had no right to say. The fact that he hadn’t dismissed her yet was a miracle.
She should be grateful for the distance.
So why did it hurt so much?
“Excellent work, Connor,” Piper said, examining the boy’s arithmetic. They were in what had been designated as the schoolroom, a bright chamber on the second floor with large windows overlooking the gardens. “Ye’ve got all of these correct.”
“Really?” Connor’s face lit up. “All of them?”
“Every single one.” Piper smiled at his enthusiasm. “Ye’re very good with numbers.”
“That’s because numbers make sense,” Connor said. “They follow rules. Nae like people.”
Piper’s smile faltered slightly. “What do ye mean?”
“People are confusin’.” Connor bent over his slate, starting on the next set of problems. “They say one thing but mean another. They promise things and then forget. Numbers never do that.”
Across the room, Masie snorted. She was working on translating a passage from English to French, a task she’d complained about extensively but was actually quite good at.
“Connor’s philosophical today,” Masie said without looking up. “Must be because Da actually showed up to breakfast this mornin’.”
Piper’s heart skipped. “He did? I’m sorry I couldnae make it this mornin’. But tell me all about it… ”
“Aye. First time in weeks.” Masie’s voice was carefully neutral. “Asked us how our lessons were goin’. Actually waited for us to answer before leavin’.”
“That’s… that’s good,” Piper managed.
“Is it?” Masie finally looked up, her green eyes, so like her father’s, sharp and assessing. “Or is it just temporary? A brief moment of guilt before he goes back to ignorin’ us?”
“Masie.”
“I’m nae stupid, Miss Armstrong. I ken what happened two days ago. I heard ye yellin’ at him from halfway across the castle. Everyone heard.”
Heat flooded Piper’s cheeks. “I shouldnae have raised me voice.”
“Nay, ye should have.” Masie set down her quill. “Someone needed to tell him. I’m just nae sure it’ll make a difference.”
“Give him time,” Piper said, even though she wasn’t sure she believed it herself. “Change doesnae happen overnight.”
“We’ve been givin’ him time for nine years,” Masie said flatly. “How much more are we supposed to give?”
Piper didn’t have an answer for that.
The rest of the morning passed in relative quiet. Connor worked through his mathematics with steady concentration. Masie finished her translation and moved on to reading from a book of Scottish history. Piper tried very hard not to think about Elijah's showing up for breakfast.
He had asked about their lessons.
He had maybe, possibly, listened to what she’d said.
After lessons ended and the children went off to have midday meal with their grandmother, Piper remained in the schoolroom, organizing materials for the afternoon session. She was shelving books when Amara appeared in the doorway.
“There ye are, dear. I’ve been lookin’ for ye.”
“Is somethin’ wrong?” Piper asked, turning.
“Nay, nay. I just wanted to see how the lessons were progressin’.” Amara entered the room, her sharp eyes taking in the slates covered in Connor’s careful numbers and Masie’s neat French script. “The children seem to be takin’ to ye remarkably well.”
“They’re wonderful students. Both of them are very bright.”
“Aye, they are.” Amara picked up the history book Masie had been reading. “And what are ye teachin’ them, exactly?”
“The basics, arithmetic, reading, writin’. Some French, history, geography. I’ve also been tellin’ them stories, Scottish legends, mostly. They seem to enjoy those.”
“And the other subjects?” Amara’s tone was casual, but her gaze was intent. “Music? Needlework? The social graces?”
“I’ve been focusin’ on academics so far,” Piper admitted. “Though I can teach them music, I play the harp. As for needlework and social graces, I’m nae sure I’m qualified to teach those things.”
“But ye could if ye wanted to?”
“I suppose. Alexandra taught me the basics of both. But she always said the academic subjects were more important. That a woman should be able to think for herself before worryin’ about how to curtsy properly.”
“Alexandra was yer neighbor? The one who taught ye?”
“Aye.”
Amara set down the book and turned to face Piper fully. “Do ye ken what ye’re teachin’ those children, dear?”
“I… what do ye mean?”
“The subjects ye’ve listed. The level of education ye’re providin’.” Amara’s voice was gentle but firm. “That’s nae the education of a village girl who learned from a kind neighbor. That’s the education of a lady. The official curriculum for daughters of lairds and nobles.”
Piper felt the blood drain from her face. “I… nay, that cannae be right. Alexandra was just… she was just a kind woman who lived next door. She never said more.”
“Perhaps she never told ye who she really was,” Amara suggested. “But the education she gave ye—Latin, French, music, all of it—that’s nae common knowledge. That’s the education reserved for the nobility.”
“But she died alone,” Piper protested. “In a tiny cottage in a village. If she were noble, if she had a family, then I would have ken.”
“Sometimes people run from their families,” Amara said quietly. “Sometimes the life they’re expected to live is so suffocatin’ that they’d rather die alone and free than live surrounded by wealth and duty.”
Piper’s hand went to her necklace, Alexandra’s necklace.
What if she really was noble? What if she ran away and hid in our village, and I never kent?
“It doesnae matter,” Piper said finally. “Whoever Alexandra was before, she was kind to me. She taught me. And now I’m usin’ what she taught me to help others. That’s all that matters.”
“Of course, dear.” But Amara was still watching her with those sharp eyes, and Piper had the uncomfortable feeling that the older woman saw far more than Piper wanted her to.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Afternoon lessons. Evening meal. Piper went through the motions, but her mind was elsewhere.
Was Alexandra really noble? And if she was, why did she never tell me?
By the time Piper returned to her chambers, exhaustion had settled into her bones. She changed into her nightgown, climbed into bed, and was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.
She didn’t know how long she’d been sleeping when the knock came.
Soft. Hesitant. Barely audible.
Piper’s eyes flew open. For a moment, she lay frozen, her heart pounding. Then the knock came again.
“Miss Armstrong?” A small voice. Connor’s voice. “Are ye awake?”
Piper scrambled out of bed and hurried to the door, pulling it open. Connor stood in the corridor in his nightshirt, his face pale and tear-streaked. Behind him stood Masie, also in her nightclothes, looking uncomfortable.
“Connor? What’s wrong?”
“He had a nightmare,” Masie said quietly. “A bad one. He wanted to see ye. He asked if we could come to ye.”
“I’m sorry,” Connor whispered, more tears spilling down his cheeks. “I ken it’s the middle of the night, and ye need yer sleep, but I just… I couldnae stay in me chambers alone.”
“Come here.” Piper didn’t hesitate. She pulled Connor into her arms, feeling his small body shake with sobs. “It’s all right. Ye’re safe now.”
“Can we…” Connor’s voice was muffled against her shoulder. “Can we stay with ye? Just for a little while?”
Piper looked at Masie, who was trying very hard to look like she didn’t care. But Piper could see the tension in the girl’s shoulders, the way her hands clutched at her nightgown.
“Both of ye,” Piper said firmly. “Come in.”
She ushered them into her chambers and closed the door. Connor clung to her like a burr, and even Masie stayed close.
“What was the nightmare about?” Piper asked gently, guiding them toward the bed.
“Monsters,” Connor whispered. “Big ones, with teeth and claws. They were chasin’ me, and I couldnae run fast enough, and then they caught me.”
His voice broke on a sob.
“It wasnae real,” Piper said, settling onto the bed and pulling Connor onto her lap. She looked at Masie. “Come here, lass.”
“I’m nae a bairn who needs comfortin’, I dinnae have a nightmare.”
“Come here anyway.”
Masie hesitated, then climbed onto the bed, sitting stiffly beside Piper. Piper shifted Connor slightly and wrapped her other arm around Masie, pulling both children close.
“Ye’re both safe,” she said softly. “I promise. Nay monsters are goin’ to get ye while I’m here.”
“But what if they come when ye’re nae here?” Connor asked.
“Then ye’ll come find me. Or ye’ll remember that nightmares arenae real, they’re just shadows our minds create when we’re afraid.”
“Da says that fear is a weakness,” Masie muttered.
“Yer da is wrong.” Piper’s voice was firm. “Fear is human. Everyone feels it. Even lairds and warriors and the bravest people in the world. The difference is what we do with that fear.”
She felt both children relax slightly against her. Connor’s sobs had quieted to occasional hiccups, and even Masie had stopped holding herself quite so rigidly.
“Would ye like to stay here tonight?” Piper asked. “Both of ye? The bed’s large enough.”
“Ye wouldnae mind?” Connor’s voice was small and hopeful.
“I wouldnae have offered if I minded.”
Masie said nothing, but she didn’t pull away.
Piper helped them settle under the blankets, one on each side of her. Then, softly, she began to sing.
It was a lullaby Alexandra had taught her, something about stars and dreams and being safe through the night. Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but in the chamber’s darkness, it seemed to fill the space.
Connor’s breathing evened out first, his small body going limp with sleep. Masie held on longer, fighting it, but eventually she too surrendered.
Piper kept singing even after they’d both fallen asleep, her arms wrapped protectively around both children.
I’ll keep ye safe. Whatever happens between me and yer faither, whatever becomes of me position here, I’ll keep ye safe. I promise.
She didn’t know when she finally fell asleep herself, but when she did, it was with two children curled against her and a fierce determination burning in her chest.
These children deserved better.
And by God, she was going to make sure they got it. Even if it meant fighting their father every step of the way. Because she already realized she was falling for those little bairns.