That was the part that frightened her.
She was standing in a training yard in the cold of a Mull morning watching a man she'd known for less than a day and her pulse was behaving in a way she needed it to stop and she was furious about all of it because she knew exactly what it meant and she didn't want it to mean that.
Not this man. Not now. Not when she was still finding the walls of the place she was supposed to live in.
He turned.
Not toward his men. Toward her.
Oh nay, he’s seen me starin’ like an idiot.
Those dark eyes found her across the yard with the immediacy of someone who had known she was there before he turned. They held hers for one long moment, steady and direct, and she stood very still and kept her face composed and tried not to give anything away.
His eyes moved to the two men nearest her. Then to three others further along the line, who had significantly reduced the quality of their footwork.
His expression shifted slightly before he glanced back at her. Then at his men.
"That's enough," he said. "Break."
He crossed the yard toward her with the same economy he appeared to bring to everything—as though effort were a resource he refused to waste. She had approximately eight seconds to arrange herself into a person who had simply been passing through.
She didn't quite manage it.
"Lady Matilda." He stopped three feet from her. She watched the way his breath misted. His eyes did that slow, devastating sweep of her face. "Ye're up early."
"I heard the drillin'," she said.
"From yer chamber."
"Aye."
"So ye came out."
"I wanted air."
He looked around the yard. At the scuffed ground, the racked practice blades, the dozen men now making their way toward the water barrel with the grateful energy of people released from something difficult. He looked back at her.
"Aye," he said. "There's a great deal of air in trainin' yards."
"Ye're very smug fer someone whose men kept losin' focus."
"Me men," he said, "were focused. On a different thing."
"That isnae the same as bein' focused on their drillin'."
"Nay." The corners of his mouth moved. "It isnae." He stepped a fraction closer, the heat from his body blooming in the cold space between them. "Two of them are going to be on extra rotations tonight because they couldnae keep their eyes off me wife. Ye are a difficult thing tae ignore, Matilda. Even fer seasoned men."
The word wife hit her like a much too tender touch. She stared at him before she found some composure.
"Come inside before I lose the rest of the mornin tae yer 'air'."
"I'm nae finished with me air."
"Matilda."
"I've barely been out here."
"Ye've been out here long enough to cost me two good soldiers an easy evenin'." He was already turning toward the keep. "Come inside before I lose the rest of the mornin'."