She looked up at them with a watery, grateful smile—so convincing it could melt stone.
Treyond stood frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief as he watched the performance unfolding before him—the same woman he had known as his young madam now playing the role of a frightened, abused wife with heartbreaking precision.
He couldn't move. Couldn't even blink.
When? he thought. When had the young master ever so much as raised his voice at her, let alone a hand?
Treyond had been with the Collens for years. Anf for the first time, he had seen his young master being good to a person, he had witnessed firsthand the way Shane treated Sophie—like she was made of glass. Like she was precious. Like she was breakable. The young master had never laid a finger on her in anger. Not once.
