Chapter 20
“Me lady? May I speak with ye for a moment?”
Piper found Elijah’s mother in the solar, embroidering by the window where the afternoon light was strongest. Amara looked up with a warm smile.
“Of course, dear. Come in, come in.” She set aside her needlework and patted the seat beside her. “What’s on yer mind?”
Piper settled into the chair, her hands twisting together in her lap. “It’s about Elijah. And the children.”
“Ah.” Amara’s eyes lit with interest. “Go on.”
"The children and I talked earlier about ways they could spend time with their faither.
Connor suggested swordplay, and Masie thought maybe ridin' lessons.
" Piper paused. "But I want to find somethin' that Elijah would actually enjoy teachin'.
Somethin' that would feel natural for him, nae just another duty. "
Amara studied her with knowing eyes. "Ye care for him."
Heat flooded Piper's cheeks. "I—that's nae—"
"It's written all over yer face, dear." Amara's smile was gentle. "And I think it's wonderful. But ye're right—if ye're goin' to help him reconnect with his children, ye need to understand him better first."
"I daenae ken much about him," Piper admitted quietly. "What he enjoys, what makes him happy. I ken he's a good laird, that he cares about his people. But beyond that..." She trailed off, feeling foolish.
"Then let me tell ye about me son," Amara said, her face brightening as she settled back in her chair with a thoughtful expression...
Piper leaned forward, unconsciously anxious to hear more. “The stars.”
“The stars?”
“Aye. When Elijah was a lad, he was obsessed with them. Used to drag me outside on clear nights and point out every constellation he could find.” Amara’s expression grew fond with memory.
“He kent all their names, all their stories. Could navigate by them, predict the seasons by their positions. His faither hated it, said it was a waste of time for a future laird. But Elijah never stopped lovin’ them. ”
“I dinnae ken that about him,” Piper said softly.
“He doesnae share it much anymore. Probably because his faither beat into him that it wasnae ‘useful’ knowledge.” Amara’s voice held a trace of bitterness. “But I’d wager if ye gave him the opportunity, he’d still remember everythin’. And more importantly, he’d love sharin’ it with his children.”
“That’s perfect.” Excitement bubbled up in Piper’s chest. “If I arrange it—a night outside, with the children, where Elijah can teach them about the stars—do ye think it would work?”
“I think it’s brilliant,” Amara said warmly. “And I think ye’re brilliant for thinkin’ of it.”
“I just want to help them,” Piper said, feeling her cheeks heat. “They all deserve to be happy. To be a family.”
“Ye have a good heart, Piper Armstrong.” Amara reached out and squeezed her hand. “Me son is very lucky to have ye in his life.”
“In his life? Ye’re givin’ me too much worth. I’m just the governess.”
“Ye’re much more than that, and we both ken it.” Amara’s eyes sparkled with something that made Piper’s stomach flip. “Ye’re glowin’, dear.”
“I… what?”
“Ye’re glowin’. Like a lass in love would.” Amara’s smile widened. “It’s written all over yer face whenever ye talk about Elijah. Whenever ye look at him across the great hall. I’d have to be blind nae to see it.”
Piper felt the blood drain from her face, then rush back in a hot wave. “I… nay! That’s nae what it seems like.”
“There’s nay point denyin’ it, dear. I’ve been watchin’ people fall in love for sixty years. I ken what it looks like.”
“Please,” Piper whispered, her voice desperate. “Please daenae say anythin’ to him. Please. I ken it’s foolish, I ken nothin’ can come of it, but I cannae… if he kens, it’ll make everythin’ so awkward, and I’ll have to leave.”
“Breathe, lass.” Amara’s voice was gentle. “I willnae say a word to him. I promise.”
“Thank ye.” Piper slumped with relief. “Thank ye so much.”
“Though I think ye’re wrong about one thing,” Amara added.
“About what?”
“About Elijah. About how he’d feel if he kent.” Amara’s expression grew knowing. “I’ve seen the way he looks at ye too, Piper. The way he watches ye when he thinks no one’s payin’ attention. That’s nae the look of a man who’s indifferent.”
“He’s just, he’s protective. Because I’m under his care.”
“He’s protective because he cares about ye. More than he should, probably. More than he wants to admit.” Amara squeezed her hand again. “Give it time, dear. I think ye might be surprised.”
“I daenae think…” Piper stopped, shaking her head. “He was married to Catherine. She was beautiful and perfect and everythin’ I’m nae. How could he ever want someone else, someone lesser?”
“Catherine was beautiful, aye,” Amara interrupted. “But she was also cold and cruel and made me son miserable. He never loved her, Piper. Never even liked her much. Ye, on the other hand, ye’re warm and kind and make him smile. Make him feel again. That’s worth more than beauty could ever be.”
“But I’m nae beautiful. I’m just a girl from a village.” Piper gestured helplessly at herself.
“Ye’re beautiful,” Amara said firmly. “Inside and out. And any man would be lucky to have ye, includin’ me stubborn son.”
Tears pricked at Piper’s eyes. “Thank ye. For sayin’ that. Even if it’s nae true.”
“It is true. And someday, ye’ll believe it.” Amara stood, pulling Piper up with her. “Now. Let’s plan this stargazin’ evenin’. When were ye thinkin’ of doin’ it?”
“Tomorrow night?” Piper suggested. “If the weather’s clear?”
“Perfect. I’ll make sure the kitchen prepares somethin’ suitable for a picnic. And I’ll keep everyone else occupied so ye four can have some privacy.”
“Thank ye, me lady. For everythin’.”
“Call me Amara, dear. We’re family now.”
The words made Piper’s heart swell and ache at the same time. Family. She’d never really had one of those before. And now—
Now she was in love with the head of the family, teaching his children, and trying desperately to pretend everything was normal.
This was going to end badly. She could feel it.
But for now, she’d take what she could get.
The next evening arrived with perfect clarity, a cloudless sky, and a gentle breeze that carried the scent of autumn. Piper stood in the courtyard holding a wicker basket packed by the kitchen staff, watching as Elijah spoke quietly with Declan and another guard.
Connor and Masie stood beside her, both looking uncertain.
“Are ye sure Da wants to do this?” Connor asked for the third time. “He’s nae goin’ to be angry that we’re takin’ him away from his work?”
“He wants to do this,” Piper assured him. “I promise.”
“But he’s been so busy lately…” Masie started.
“He’s always busy,” Piper interrupted gently. “But that doesnae mean he doesnae want to spend time with ye. Sometimes people just need a little push in the right direction.”
Elijah finished his conversation and approached them. He’d changed out of his formal attire into simpler clothes, a linen shirt and dark trousers, his sword still at his hip out of habit.
“Ready?” he asked, his eyes meeting Piper’s.
“Aye.” She held up the basket. “I’ve got the supplies. Declan and…” She glanced at the other guard, a young man whose name she couldn’t remember.
“Harris,” Elijah supplied.
“Declan and Harris will come with us for safety, but they’ll keep their distance. Give us privacy.”
“Ye’ve thought of everythin’,” Elijah said, and there might have been amusement in his voice.
“I try.” Piper turned to the children. “Come on, then. Let’s go find the perfect spot.”
They set off from the castle, heading toward the edge of the forest where Piper had scouted earlier. It was a clearing large enough to spread out but sheltered enough to feel private. And most importantly, the tree cover was minimal, giving them a perfect view of the night sky.
Declan and Harris followed at a respectful distance, close enough to intervene if needed but far enough that their presence wouldn’t be intrusive.
“Where are we goin’?” Connor asked, bouncing along beside Piper.
“Ye’ll see. It’s a surprise.”
“I daenae like surprises,” Masie muttered.
“Ye’ll like this one,” Piper promised.
When they reached the clearing, Piper set down the basket and began pulling out its contents. A thick wool blanket that she spread on the ground. Several cushions for comfort. Wrapped bundles of bread, cheese, cold meat, and fruit. A flask of cider and cups.
“A picnic?” Connor’s face lit up. “We’re havin’ a picnic at night?”
“Nae just a picnic,” Piper said, arranging everything carefully. “Tonight is a special lesson. One where I’ll be learnin’ right alongside ye.”
“A lesson?” Masie’s enthusiasm dimmed slightly. “Ye brought us out here for lessons?”
“A different kind of lesson,” Piper assured her. She looked up at Elijah, who was watching with an unreadable expression. “Yer da is goin’ to teach us about the stars.”
Connor’s eyes went wide. “Really? Da, ye ken about stars?”
Elijah cleared his throat. “Aye. A bit.”
“More than a bit,” Piper said firmly. “Yer maither told me ye used to study them all the time when ye were young. That ye ken all the constellations and their stories.”
“That was a long time ago,” Elijah said, but Piper could see something shift in his expression—a softness, a hint of the boy he’d once been.
“But ye still remember, do ye nae?” Piper pressed gently.
Elijah looked at his children—Connor practically vibrating with excitement, Masie trying to hide her interest behind skepticism—and something in his face cracked.
“Aye,” he said quietly. “I still remember.”
“Then sit,” Piper said, patting the blanket. “All of ye. Let’s eat first, and then when it’s dark enough, Elijah can show us.”
They settled onto the blanket—Connor immediately claiming a spot and patting the space beside him for his father. Elijah hesitated only a moment before sitting down, and Connor’s face split into a grin so wide it made Piper’s heart ache.
Masie sat on Elijah’s other side, maintaining more distance but still closer than Piper had seen her sit to her father in weeks.
Piper distributed the food, making sure everyone had something to eat and drink. The conversation began awkwardly with stilted comments about the weather, the castle, anything neutral. But gradually, as they ate and the sky darkened, things began to ease.
Connor told a rambling story about a frog he’d found in the garden. Masie corrected several details, but without her usual bite. Elijah listened, actually listened, asking questions and even laughing at Connor’s dramatic reenactment.
Piper watched it all with a warmth spreading through her chest. This. This was what they needed. Just time together, without the weight of duty or grief or distance.
“Look!” Connor pointed up suddenly. “The first stars are comin’ out!”
Sure enough, pinpricks of light were beginning to appear in the deepening blue of the sky.
“Can ye teach us now, Da?” Connor asked, his voice eager. “Please?”
Elijah looked at the emerging stars, then at his son’s hopeful face. “Aye. I can do that.”
He shifted so he was lying back on the blanket, his hands behind his head. Connor immediately copied him, pressing close against his father’s side. After a moment’s hesitation, Masie did the same on Elijah’s other side.
Piper felt her throat tighten at the sight, three people who’d been so distant finally coming together.
“Come on, Miss Armstrong,” Connor called. “Ye said ye were learnin’ too!”
Piper glanced at Elijah, who caught her eye and—was that a smirk?
“Ye planned this,” he said quietly. “Ye might as well see it through.”
Piper lay down beside Connor, close enough to be part of the group but far enough to maintain some propriety.
“Now,” Elijah began, his voice taking on a different quality—softer, almost reverent. “What do ye ken about the stars already?”
“They’re pretty?” Connor offered.
“They help sailors navigate,” Masie added.
“Both true,” Elijah said. “But they’re also stories. Every constellation up there has a tale behind it. Some are Greek myths, some are Scottish legends, some are simply ways people found to make sense of the patterns they saw.”
“Tell us,” Connor breathed.
“All right. See that group of stars there?” Elijah pointed. “The ones that look like a ‘W’?”
“Aye!” Connor squinted.
“That’s Cassiopeia. She was a queen in Greek mythology who boasted that she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs. As punishment, she was placed in the sky, tied to a chair, forced to circle the North Star for eternity.”
“That seems harsh for just braggin’,” Masie observed.
“The gods dinnae take kindly to mortal pride,” Elijah said. “And there, those seven bright stars in a cluster? That’s Pleiades. The Seven Sisters. In one story, they were the daughters of Atlas who were turned into stars to escape a hunter.”
“Did it work?” Connor asked.
“In a way. They became unreachable, but they also became eternal.” Elijah’s voice was warm now, engaged in a way Piper had never heard. “And that line of three bright stars, that’s Orion’s Belt. Orion was a hunter, one of the greatest who ever lived.”
He continued pointing out constellations, weaving their stories together, and Piper found herself captivated not just by the tales but by the transformation in Elijah.
This was who he’d been before grief and guilt had hardened him. This was the man who could still find wonder in the world.
Connor asked a hundred questions, and Elijah answered each one patiently. Even Masie dropped her defensive walls, asking about navigation and how sailors use the stars to find their way.
At some point, Connor shifted so that his head rested on Elijah’s chest. Elijah’s arm came around him, holding him close, and Connor let out a contented sigh.
“Da?” Connor’s voice was sleepy.
“Aye, lad?”
“I’m glad ye’re teachin’ us about the stars.”
Elijah’s voice was thick when he answered. “I’m glad ye wanted to learn.”
Piper caught Elijah’s eye across the space between them. He smiled at her, a real smile, full of gratitude and something else she couldn’t quite name.
Thank ye, he mouthed.
Piper smiled back, her heart so full it felt like it might burst.
She loved him. Desperately, hopelessly, completely.
And watching him like this—finally connecting with his children, finally letting himself be the father they needed—only made her love him more.