Page 41 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
Rowan made a quiet sound of acknowledgment, humoring her. “How can ye tell them apart?”
Elspeth stared off into the distance for a moment before answering. “Well, his ma is the biggest one. She’s always letting the other ones climb on her. His braithers are big too, but nae as big as their ma. And his sisters always bite me when I get too close.”
Rowan almost laughed, amused at how she could talk so quickly within seconds. “I’ll make sure to stay away from them, then.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
It had always been like this. Just the two of them. He had ensured she lacked for nothing. That had been enough. It had to be.
And yet?—
“Lady Sorcha likes the turtles,” Elspeth said suddenly, breaking the silence. “She says they daenae like loud noises, so ye have to be gentle when ye’re near.”
That sounded like Sorcha. Measured. Observant. Careful in ways that did not draw attention to her unless one was looking for her.
Elspeth’s grip loosened on his hand as she turned back. “We should’ve asked her to come with us.”
This isnae what this was meant to be. Sorcha beside us. Elspeth already speakin’ of her as though she belongs here. As though it has always been the case.
Sorcha had done nothing but take her place as it had been given, steady where most would have faltered, gentle in ways that did not ask for notice.
And still Roward found himself resisting her. Not for what she had done, but for everything she reminded him of.
Elspeth let go of his hand and ran toward Morag to grab Mr. Turtle, before running off ahead of them. “We have to hurry, Mr. Turtle! Yer family is waitin’!”
“Daenae runs too fast, Lady Elspeth. Ye’ll trip and fall!” Morag called out, shaking her head. “The girl doesnae listen.” Her tone was scolding, but Rowan could see a hint of a smile as she watched Elspeth run down the path.
They followed in silence, watching Elspeth twirl around as she skipped with her turtle.
“Ye finished yer meal early,” Morag noted, breaking the silence.
“I wasnae hungry.”
“Aye,” she replied, sounding unconvinced. “And I suppose that has nothin’ to do with yer new wife.”
Morag had never been one to mince her words. Not when he had been a boy, and certainly not now.
“It is handled,” he replied curtly.
“Is it now?”
He shot her a brief look, enough to show his irritation, but she met it without flinching.
“I’ve seen ye handle things before, Rowan,” she said. “This doesnae look the same.”
He looked ahead again, his expression hardening. “It is nay concern of yers.”
Morag huffed quietly, though there was no true offense in it. “I’ve watched ye since ye were small enough to hide behind me skirts. I ken when something’s nae sittin’ right.”
He could not say anything to that because she was not entirely wrong. He felt it in the way his thoughts would not settle. In the way his temper sat too close to the surface. In the way Sorcha’s voice lingered in his mind longer than it should have.
“Holdin’ yerself back willnae change reality, ye ken. She’s still yer wife. Ye cannae run away forever.”
His jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze forward. “Mind yer words.”
“I am,” she replied without flinching. “More than ye are, from the looks of it.”
Shaking his head, he walked past her to Elspeth, who was now sitting at the edge of the pond. She watched as the turtle made its way toward its family.
