Page 58 of The Laird's Masked Passion

“Catriona.”

“Nay.”

She folded her arms. “How astonishingly predictable.”

“It isnae safe.”

“I didnae ask tae go alone.”

That stopped him.

She took advantage of the pause. “I am the lady of this castle, whether either of us finds that convenient. A man died protecting these lands. His wife shouldnae receive only coin and firewood. She should receive faces, words and grief that bothers tae stand at her door.”

Colin said nothing.

Elspeth’s courage wavered, but only for a breath. “I ken she daesnae ken me. I ken I am a stranger here. Perhaps she willnae want me. But I ask tae go… with ye.”

His gaze held hers. She expected refusal, argument, some cold remark about danger or obedience or how little she understood. Instead, Colin’s expression changed in a way so subtle she nearly missed it.

He liked the idea. She was certain it was because he could see the sense of it. Perhaps he already thought of it and set it aside amid blood and tracks and borders. Perhaps not. Either way, he looked at her now with an attention that warmed her more than approval should have done.

“Aye,” he said at last.

Elspeth blinked. “Aye?”

“Aye. We will go.”

“Oh.”

His mouth curved faintly. “Ye sound disappointed I didnae fight ye.”

She smirked. “I prepared several arguments.”

“I am bereaved tae miss them.”

“Ye may hear them later. I keep a fine supply.”

“I dinnae doubt it.”

For a moment, the dark weight between them eased.

Then Colin looked back at the map, and the shadow returned to his eyes. “We leave after I speak tae Murdoch. Tomorrow, if the roads are secure, but it willnae be a long visit.”

Elspeth nodded. “That is fine. Thank ye.”

His gaze returned to her. “Fer what?”

“Fer agreeing.”

He shrugged. “Ye were right.”

The words startled her more than his refusal would have done. Elspeth looked at him, this man she thought a barbarian, this husband who bought her and frightened her and spared her and confused her beyond endurance. He stood with danger spread across his writing table and grief hidden behind his eyes, and for the first time she wondered whether his coldness was not the absence of feeling, but the locked door built to contain too much of it.

“Colin,” she whispered softly.

His face stilled. She did not know what she had meant to say. So she said nothing. After a moment, she turned and left the study with Catriona’s name in her mind, and Colin’s quiet admission following after her.

Ye were right.