Chapter 14
“Found ye!”
Piper pulled aside the low-hanging branches of a willow tree to reveal Masie crouched behind the trunk, trying to make herself as small as possible. The girl looked up, scowling.
“That was too fast,” Masie complained, climbing to her feet and brushing dirt from her dress. “Ye’re supposed to count to one hundred, nae fifty.”
“I counted to one hundred,” Piper said, amused. “Ye’re just nae as good at hidin’ as ye think ye are.”
“Am so.”
“I could see yer skirt from ten paces away.”
Masie’s scowl deepened, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. But I’ll do better next time.”
They’d been playing hide and seek for the better part of an hour, taking advantage of the beautiful morning and the fact that their lessons had gone particularly well.
Connor had finally mastered the French phrases Piper had been teaching him, and Masie had completed an entire arithmetic problem set without complaint. They’d earned a break.
“Now we just need to find yer brother,” Piper said, scanning the gardens. “Connor? We’ve found Masie! Ye can come out now!”
Silence.
“He always hides for ages,” Masie said, rolling her eyes. “Thinks it makes him the winner if he’s the last one found.”
“Well, let’s go lookin’ then.” Piper started toward the area where she’d last seen Connor running. “He cannae have gone far.”
They searched the gardens first—behind hedges, under benches, in the small folly near the pond. No Connor. Then they checked the stables, the forge, even the kitchens, where Cook shooed them out with a wooden spoon and a lecture about children underfoot.
Still no Connor.
“Connor!” Piper called out, her voice echoing across the courtyard. “The game is over! Come out!”
Nothing.
A prickle of unease ran down Piper’s spine. “How long has it been?”
“I daenae ken.” Masie was starting to look worried, too. “Maybe half an hour since we started lookin’?”
“And we were hidin’ for about fifteen minutes before that.” Piper’s worry intensified. “So, he’s been gone for forty-five minutes at least.”
“He does this sometimes,” Masie said, but her voice lacked conviction. “Hides for ages just to prove he can.”
“Masie, where else might he go? Places he’s nae supposed to be?”
“The east tower, maybe? Or the armory? He likes lookin’ at the weapons even though he’s nae allowed to touch them.” Masie paused. “Or the old apple tree by the loch. He climbs it sometimes, even though Da told him nae to.”
“Show me.”
They were hurrying toward the loch when a familiar voice called out behind them.
“What’s goin’ on?”
Piper turned to find Elijah striding toward them, his expression concerned. He must have been coming from the training yards; there was dirt on his shirt, and he had his sword at his hip.
“We’re playin’ hide and seek,” Masie said quickly. “Or we were. We cannae find Connor.”
“How long has he been gone?”
“Forty-five minutes. Maybe longer.” Piper tried to keep the panic out of her voice. “We’ve looked everywhere—the gardens, the stables, the kitchens. Masie thinks he might have gone to the old apple tree by the loch.”
Something flickered across Elijah’s face, worry, quickly masked. “I’ll help ye look. Come on.”
He set off toward the loch at a pace that had Piper and Masie nearly jogging to keep up. When they reached the water’s edge, Elijah’s gaze swept the area with practiced efficiency.
“There,” he said, pointing toward a large tree about fifty yards away. Its branches stretched out over the water, thick with leaves. “I see movement.”
Piper squinted and saw it too, a flash of color that might have been Connor’s shirt.
They approached the tree, and sure enough, there was Connor. He was about fifteen feet up, clinging to a branch that extended out over the water.
“Connor Quinn!” Elijah’s voice was like a thundercrack. “What in God’s name are ye doin’ up there?”
Connor’s head jerked up, his eyes wide with fear. “Da! I… I was just hidin’.”
“Get down. Now.”
“I cannae!”
“What do ye mean ye cannae?” Elijah moved to the base of the tree and looked up. “The same way ye climbed up, ye climb down.”
“I cannae!” Connor’s voice rose with panic. “I’m stuck! Me foot is—it’s caught, and every time I try to move, the branch shakes, and I’m goin’ to fall!”
Piper’s heart clenched. Now that she was closer, she could see that Connor was indeed stuck—his foot wedged between two smaller branches, and his position precarious enough that any sudden movement might send him tumbling into the water below.
“All right,” Elijah said, his voice shifting from angry to calm. “All right, lad. Daenae panic. I’m comin’ up.”
“Be careful,” Piper said before she could stop herself.
Elijah glanced at her, something unreadable in his eyes, then began climbing. He moved with the confidence of someone who’d done this before, probably many times as a boy himself. Within moments, he’d reached Connor’s branch.
“Da.” Connor’s voice cracked.
“I’ve got ye,” Elijah said, positioning himself carefully. “Now, listen to me. I’m goin’ to free yer foot, and then ye’re goin’ to hold onto me while we climb down together. Can ye do that?”
“Aye.” But Connor didn’t sound convinced.
Elijah worked at the branches to free Connor’s foot, his movements careful and deliberate. Finally, there was a snap as one of the smaller branches broke away, freeing Connor.
“There. Now—” Elijah started, but Connor didn’t wait for instructions. The moment his foot was free, he launched himself at his father, wrapping his arms and legs around Elijah like a barnacle.
Elijah caught him, nearly losing his balance. “Connor, I need ye to—”
“Daenae let go!” Connor buried his face in Elijah’s neck. “Please daenae let go!”
“I willnae let go, but I need both hands to climb down. Ye need to release me.”
“Nay!” Connor’s grip tightened. “I cannae! I’m scared!”
Piper watched from below as Elijah tried to reason with Connor, to get him to loosen his grip enough for them to descend safely. But Connor was having none of it; he was too frightened, too worked up.
“Connor,” Elijah said, his voice strained. “Lad, ye need to trust me. I cannae climb down with ye clingin’ to me like this.”
“Then we’ll just stay up here!” Connor’s voice was muffled but adamant.
“We cannae stay up here forever.”
“Why nae?”
“Because…” Elijah stopped, clearly at a loss.
“Connor!” Piper called up. “Can ye hear me?”
Connor’s head lifted slightly. “Aye?”
“Do ye remember that story I told ye that day at the loch? About the kelpie and the blacksmith’s daughter?”
“Aye.”
“Do ye remember what the daughter did when the kelpie was trapped?”
There was a pause. “She… she showed it kindness. Even though she was scared.”
“That’s right. She was brave even though she was frightened.” Piper kept her voice gentle. “And right now, yer da needs ye to be brave too. Can ye do that?”
“I… I daenae ken.”
“Aye, ye do. Because ye’re one of the bravest lads I ken. Ye climbed all the way up that tree by yerself, didn’t ye?”
“Aye, but I got stuck.”
“Aye, but ye can climb down too. With yer da’s help. He willnae let ye fall. Ye ken that, aye?”
Another pause. Then, so quietly Piper almost didn’t hear it, he said, “Aye.”
“So what do ye say? Will ye trust him?”
Connor’s grip on Elijah loosened slightly. “Da? Ye promise ye willnae let me fall?”
“I promise, lad.” Elijah’s voice was thick with emotion. “I’ve got ye. I’ll always have ye.”
Slowly, carefully, Connor adjusted his position.
Elijah talked him through it—where to put his hands, where to put his feet, how to move with him instead of against him. It took several minutes, but finally they were both safely on the ground.
The moment Connor’s feet touched earth, he was clinging to Elijah again, this time with tears streaming down his face.
“I’m sorry,” Connor sobbed. “I’m sorry, Da. I wasnae supposed to climb the tree, and I got stuck, and I was so scared.”
“Hush, lad.” Elijah’s arms came around Connor, holding him close. “Ye’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”
Piper felt her throat tighten at the sight. This was what she’d been trying to tell Elijah, this connection, this comfort. This was what his children needed.
Masie stood beside Piper, watching her father and brother with an expression Piper couldn’t quite read. Longing, maybe. Or grief for something she’d never had.
After a few moments, Elijah looked up at Piper. Their eyes met, and something passed between them—acknowledgment, maybe. Or gratitude.
“Thank ye,” Elijah said quietly. “For… for that. Whatever ye said that got through to him.”
“I just reminded him that he’s brave,” Piper said. “And that he can trust ye.”
Elijah’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. Then he stood, keeping Connor held against his chest. The boy showed no signs of wanting to be put down.
“I should…” Elijah started, then stopped. “I should take him back to the castle. Make sure he’s all right.”
“Of course.”
Elijah turned to leave, then paused. “Piper?”
“Aye?”
“Ye were right. About what ye said the other day. In me study.”
Before Piper could respond, he was walking away, carrying Connor toward the castle. Masie trailed after them, leaving Piper standing alone by the old apple tree.
The rest of the day passed in a strange blur. Lunch came and went—Elijah ate with the children. He actually sat with them and asked about their morning.
Afternoon lessons were subdued, with Connor still shaken from his ordeal and Masie lost in her own thoughts.
By evening, Piper’s mind was spinning. The incident with the tree. Elijah’s words, ye were right. The way he’d held Connor, so carefully, so protectively.
Maybe he was trying. Maybe he could change.
She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice where she was walking until she nearly collided with someone in the corridor.
“I’m sorry, I—” Piper looked up and felt her words die.
Elijah stood there, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. Close enough to remember the way his lips had felt on hers two nights ago.
“Miss Armstrong.” His voice was formal, but there was tension and uncertainty in his expression. “Are ye… are ye all right?”
“Aye. I’m fine. I was just…”
Thinkin’ about ye. About us. About that kiss.
“Lost in thought.”
“I see.” Elijah shifted his weight, and Piper realized he looked uncomfortable. Almost nervous. “I wanted to show ye something. That is, I should—”
“Should what?”
“Follow me.” The words came out abruptly, almost a command. Then, softer, he said, “Please.”
Piper’s heart kicked against her ribs. “Where?”
“Just follow me. There’s somethin’ I want to show ye.”
Before she could question it further, Elijah was walking away. After a moment’s hesitation, Piper followed.
He led her through corridors she hadn’t explored yet, up a narrow staircase, and into a wing of the castle that felt older, quieter. Finally, he stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.
The room beyond was long and narrow, with windows on one side letting in the fading evening light. But what caught Piper’s attention were the portraits.
Dozens of them lined the walls—men and women in fine clothes, their painted eyes watching from frames both ornate and simple. Some looked centuries old, their colors faded. Others were newer, the subjects’ faces still vibrant.
“The portrait gallery,” Elijah said quietly. “Every Laird and Lady McMahon since the castle was built. And some of the more notable family members.”
“It’s beautiful,” Piper breathed, turning slowly to take it all in.
“Aye.” Elijah moved deeper into the room. “I used to come here as a lad. Look at all these faces and try to imagine what their lives were like. What they fought for. What they loved.”
He stopped in front of a portrait near the center of the wall. “This is what I wanted ye to see.”
Piper approached slowly, her eyes rising to the painting.
And froze.
The woman in the portrait was breathtaking.
Dark hair fell in perfect waves around a face that could have been carved by a master sculptor.
Gray eyes, lighter than Piper’s, almost silver, gazed out with cool assessment.
Her figure was willowy and elegant, draped in silk that hung perfectly on her slender frame.
She looked like Masie, or rather, Masie looked like her. The same bone structure. The same aristocratic nose. The same air of someone who knew exactly how beautiful she was.
“Catherine,” Elijah said quietly. “Me wife.”
Piper’s throat went tight. This was Catherine. This impossibly beautiful woman was the one Elijah had loved. Had married. Had children with.
This was who Piper could never be.
“She’s beautiful,” Piper managed, though the words felt like glass in her mouth.
“Aye. She was.”
Was.
Past tense. But that didn’t make the comparison any less stark.
Piper looked at the portrait—at Catherine’s perfect face, her perfect figure, her perfect everything—and felt something inside her shrivel.
What had she been thinking? That a man who’d been married to that woman would ever look twice at someone like her? That the kiss they’d shared meant anything beyond a momentary lapse of judgment?
She was plump where Catherine had been slim. Plain where Catherine had been beautiful. Common, where Catherine had been obviously noble.
There was no competition. There never had been.
“Why are ye showin’ me this?” Piper asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elijah was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the portrait.
“Because,” he said finally. “I need ye to understand what this entire affair is all about.”