Chapter 12 #2
She felt him stand, the chair giving a faint scrape against the floor. His steps came no closer than the edge of propriety permitted, but she felt the shift in the room as he approached her.
“I do not know what to do with so much kindness,” she admitted before she could stop herself.
Silence followed.
Then Logan’s voice came lower. “Mayhap ye dinnae have tae dae anything wi’ it. Mayhap ye can simply accept it.”
She turned at that, unable to help herself.
Logan stood a few paces off, his shadow stretching long across the floorboards. He didn't move, his eyes tracking her with a focus that made the air between them feel far too small.
Part of her wanted to step back, to put more room between them, yet she remained where she was, drawn toward the heat of him in the cold room.
“Accept it?” she asked. “While men are injured?”
“Accept that nae every debt must be paid by running from the people trying tae help ye.”
The words went straight through her.
Her lips parted, but no answer came.
“I do not know how to stay,” she whispered.
His expression changed. It was slight, but she saw it: the softening around his eyes, the breath he did not quite release.
“Say that ye’ll stay fer a little while,” he said. “Nae as a prisoner, just… stay a little while.”
Her fingers trembled, so she folded them together again.
“The roads are too dangerous,” he continued, his voice careful now. “They are stopping travelers. Searching houses. Offering coin fer word o’ ye. If ye leave now, ye willnae be leading danger away from us. Ye’ll be walking straight intae its mouth and it will all be fer naething.”
Rose’s stomach tightened.
His gaze lowered briefly to her mouth, then rose again at once. It left her breathless.
She looked away first.
The room felt too warm suddenly. Logan seemed to sense it because he shifted the conversation with the same deliberate care he had used when tending her ankle.
“There is another matter,” he said.
Rose gathered herself. “Another raid?”
“Nay.” His mouth tightened faintly. “Something more useful. If ye are tae remain here, then I willnae have ye feeling helpless behind locked doors.”
Her attention sharpened. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll teach ye tae defend yerself.”
Rose stared at him, eyes widening. For several seconds, she was not certain she had heard correctly.
“With a weapon?”
“Wi’ a dagger first. Mayhap more, if ye take tae it.”
The idea was so foreign that she could not immediately place herself inside it.
Rose Algernon, who had been taught where to lower her eyes, how to sit, how to pour tea without spilling, how to walk across a room as if every step would be studied for inspection, standing in a courtyard with a dagger in her hand.
It should have horrified her. Instead, a spark moved beneath the fear.
Rose’s breath felt unsteady. “I have never held a weapon.”
“I guessed as much.”
She gave him a look before she could stop herself. “Is that meant to comfort me?”
A faint curve touched his mouth, gone almost before it formed. “Nay. It is meant tae reassure ye that we’ll start slowly.”
The flicker of humor loosened her, though the tremor remained. “What if I am terrible at it?”
“Then ye’ll be terrible at it until ye’re less terrible.”
A startled sound escaped her, almost a laugh.
Logan’s hazel eyes warmed, and the sight unsettled her more than his teasing had. She pressed one hand lightly against the window ledge, needing the cold stone to ground her.
“You make it sound simple,” she said.
“It isnae simple,” he replied. “But it is possible.”
She thought of the tavern floor beneath her boots as men dragged her toward the door. Her nails scraping uselessly against a wrist that did not release her. The helplessness of knowing her body was not strong enough to keep itself from being taken.
Then she imagined standing differently, less helpless.
Her throat tightened.
“I am afraid,” she said.
Logan did not soften the truth with easy comfort. “I ken.”
“I do not like it.”
“I ken that too.”
Rose looked at the bundle on the bed, then back at him.
“If I stay,” she said slowly, “it is not because I believe myself blameless.”
His jaw tightened, but he did not interrupt.
“It is because leaving now would be foolish,” she continued, forcing the words past pride and fear alike. “And because if danger is coming regardless, I would rather not meet it entirely useless.”
His gaze held hers, and the tension in it eased.
“Then stay,” he said quietly. “Fer now.”
He gave her a way to agree without surrendering every argument inside her. A small mercy, and she knew he had given it intentionally.
Rose inclined her head. “For now.”
The words settled between them, fragile but real.
Logan looked toward the bundle. “Shall I assume that can be unpacked?”
Heat rose to her face. “You may assume no such thing.”
His brow lifted.
“I will unpack it meself,” she said, recovering what dignity she could. “When I decide it is appropriate.”
The corner of his mouth moved. “Aye. O’ course.”
She narrowed her eyes faintly. “You are amused.”
“Mayhap a little.”
Rose felt the smallest smile tug at her mouth. It frightened her more than it should have. How easily he could do that. How quickly he could turn the air from unbearable to almost warm.
Logan’s expression shifted, as if he had seen the smile and chosen not to draw too much attention to it.
“One more thing,” he said.
Rose braced herself. “There is more?”
“This isnae bad.”
“That remains to be seen.”
A faint, approving look passed through his eyes. “We will be hosting a clan festival. Lughnasadh.”
She blinked, taken off guard by the sudden change. “A festival?”
“Aye. In a few days. There will be food, music, dancing. Too much noise fer any sensible person.”
“That sounds dreadful.”
“It is,” he said gravely. “Christina loves it.”
Rose almost smiled again.
Then his face grew more serious, though not heavy. “I thought ye might need a dress fer it. If ye choose tae attend.”
She looked at him. Of all the things she had expected, it was not that.
“You thought of that?” she asked, before she could make the question sound less direct.
His gaze shifted briefly, and for the first time, she saw him look almost uncertain.
“Aye,” he said. “Ye’ve been wearing what Christina lends ye. There are gowns stored here from kin and guests over the years. Or cloth, if ye’d rather have something altered. I thought…” He stopped, jaw working once. “I thought ye should have something that feels yers, nae merely borrowed.”
The tenderness of it struck her.
A dress was such a small thing. It should not have mattered while men lay wounded and riders carried her face through the countryside.
Yet because of that, it did. He had thought not only of her safety, but of her dignity.
Of the quiet ache of wearing another woman’s clothes while belonging nowhere.
“That is very kind.” Her voice was quieter.
Logan watched her, his expression unreadable but gentle at the edges. “It is only a dress.”
No, she thought. It is not.
But aloud, she only said, “Thank you.”
The silence that followed was softer than before.
Outside, the courtyard stirred with the preparations of men bracing for danger. Inside, beside the low fire and the packed bundle she no longer knew how to look at, Rose felt the knot within her loosen by the smallest degree.
Logan moved toward the door, then paused with his hand near the latch. “I’ll send word when the first lesson can be arranged. Rest until then.”
Rose nodded. “I will.”
His eyes dropped briefly toward the bundle, then back to her face.
A breath of laughter, fragile and unwilling, escaped her. “You are a very suspicious man, Logan.”
“Aye,” he said, and for once the word carried no apology. “I’ve had reason tae be.”
She held his gaze.
“So have I,” she said softly.
The amusement faded, replaced by something that seemed to understand her more than she had intended to reveal.
“Aye,” he said again, quieter now. “I ken.”
Then he opened the door and left.
Rose remained standing by the window long after he was gone, her heart beating too hard for a room so still. At last, she crossed to the bed and rested her hand on the bundle.
For a moment, she did nothing. Then, slowly, she untied the knot.