Page 162 of The Laird's Masked Passion

“He did more than come near.”

Thomas’s mouth tightened. Colin expected criticism. Some cold remark about recklessness, danger, or the trouble her marriage had brought upon the family.

Instead, Thomas said, “I am glad ye are safe.”

Elspeth stared at him. The words seemed to surprise their speaker as much as anyone else. Thomas looked briefly toward the waiting servants, as though regretting the number of witnesses.

“When news arrived that ye had been taken,” he continued, “yer mother was greatly distressed.”

Lad Morven’s expression altered.

Thomas added, more stiffly, “As was I.”

Silence followed. It was not tenderness. Thomas Fraser seemed incapable of tenderness unless it had first been inspected for weakness and found politically harmless. But it was one degree warmer than anything Colin had expected.

Elspeth’s eyes shone. “Ye… were worried?”

Her father’s jaw moved once. “A man would have tae possess very little sense nae tae worry upon hearing his daughter had fallen intae the hands of a murderer.”

It was not an apology. It did not erase the letter, the altar, or every year in which Elspeth had been made to believe usefulness was the nearest thing she could earn to love. But Colin saw the words reach her not enough to heal, but enough to matter.

Thomas looked at Colin. “I understand ye offered yer own life fer hers.”

“Aye.”

“That was reckless.”

Elspeth made an offended sound.

Colin answered before she could. “Aye.”

Thomas studied him, then he inclined his head. It was not quite gratitude, but it came nearer than Colin expected the man to manage.

“Ye have me thanks.”

Colin returned the gesture. “She daesnae require thanks fer being protected.”

“Nay,” Thomas said. His gaze returned to his daughter. “Perhaps nae.”

Lady Morven stepped forward and took Elspeth’s other hand. “Come inside. Ye must be tired.”

“I am nae.”

“She is,” Colin said.

Elspeth glared at him. “I am perfectly capable of identifying me own exhaustion.”

“A skill ye rarely exercise.”

Lady Morven smiled openly this time. Thomas looked between them, faintly bewildered by a marriage in which disagreement did not immediately become cruelty. That, Colin thought, might be the most useful lesson Fraser received from their visit.

They remained for four days. Elspeth spent hours with her mother. They walked through the gardens when the weather permitted, sat beside the fire when it did not, and spoke behind closed doors about matters Colin did not ask to hear.

Thomas remained cold, but not entirely unchanged. He asked Elspeth’s opinion once during supper. He actually listened to the answer. The following morning, he ordered a carriage rather than assuming Lady Morven could manage the steps to the chapel.

They were small things, insufficient things. Yet Colin learned that a life sometimes altered through movements too slight to be noticed until one looked backward.

On the final morning, Lady Morven embraced Elspeth beside the carriage. “Ye will return?”