Chapter 6
The wheels of the old carriage hummed against the rough road. Emma kept her hands folded on her lap and watched the water bead and slide down the glass. Her mother, Olivia, sat beside her, clad in a white gown embroidered with beads.
Like Emma, her mother had the same expression on her face—fear and anticipation. Emma had stared at that face for the better part of the journey, but then decided to take a break. At least if her mother would let her.
“Are ye sure of this, Emma?” her mother asked.
Emma sighed and turned to her. “Do ye want me to give a different answer? Or do ye want me to give the same one as the one I’ve given five times already?”
Olivia tightened her hands on her lap. “I just need to make sure ye’re making the right choice.”
“Like I said, Ma, choice has little to do with it.” Emma turned back towards the window. “Jack Barkley willnae leave me be, and Uncle’s temper grows worse by the hour. This is the least I can do.”
“The least or the most convenient?”
“Perhaps both.”
Olivia grabbed a handkerchief from her reticule and wiped her face with it. “Ye shouldnae do anything ye cannae get out of. We ken this Laird. We ken what was said about his late wife.”
Emma kept her gaze on the glass, watching the misty droplet run down. “People say many things.”
“Aye,” Olivia said softly. “They do. Because rumors always contain some element of truth.”
The carriage rolled over a stone wedged in the road, causing them both to lurch forward.
“I apologize for that, me Ladies,” the driver called from the front, lowering his head. “I didnae see the rock till it was too late.”
“‘Tis all right. Just be careful next time,” Olivia called back, but her gaze never left Emma.
Emma didn’t need to ask to know that the statement was not directed at the driver.
“I am careful, Ma,” she insisted. “And ye ken I am nae doing this under duress.”
Olivia almost smiled. “That is most likely the first thing I have believed so far. I ken what happened the last time ye were forced to marry him.”
“This isnae like last time. I ken what I’m doing this time around.”
“Ye daenae have to defend him,” Olivia said. “I can see the arguments lining up.”
“We daenae ken the truth.” Emma turned her head at last. “They only said that he killed her. There was never proof.”
“Perhaps there didnae need to be proof,” Olivia countered. “The way folks look at him is proof enough.”
“The way folks look at anyone they fear,” Emma emphasized. “That’s all it takes for a story to grow teeth.”
“So ye think him gentle, do ye?”
“Nay.” Emma’s voice lowered, but did not soften. “Definitely nae gentle. But I ken he’ll keep his word.”
“Because ye spoke to him one time?”
“Aye.”
“And that is enough for ye to trust him?”
“I daenae trust him,” Emma said. “I just daenae hate him enough nae to try his option. That is all.”
Olivia searched her face, as if she might find the shape of this new resolve and pry it up by a corner. The rocking of the carriage made the search a bit slower.
“All in all, ye must be careful with men like that,” she said when she found nothing. “They often carry storms inside them.”
“I can weather a storm.”
“Nae if it changes ye.”
Emma looked back at the window. The mist made a mirror, and for a moment, she saw herself there, pale and calm and very distant. Something about her reflection made her feel like a woman bracing for a turn in the road she could not yet see.
“If ye ever fall in love with him—” Olivia began.
“I cannae, Ma,” Emma cut her off, the words coming quicker than she meant. “This is only an arrangement. He needs peace, and I need space from Uncle. It suits us both.”
“He may nae make it easy.”
“I daenae doubt that.”
“Yer uncle says that Laird MacLeod is ruthless,” Olivia added. “He says that the man does what must be done and leaves feelings for others.”
“Uncle says many things when he wants to make a bargain,” Emma scoffed. “Ye cannae take his words as gospel.”
“Was there truth in some of them?”
“Perhaps,” Emma replied. “But Jack isnae—”
“Is that what ye call him now?”
“Laird MacLeod isnae cruel for sport. If he had wished to scare me, he had had enough time. I daenae think that is his intention. I do believe that he isnae everything that he seems.”
“And yet,” Olivia said, “we are in a carriage, on the road to his castle.”
“Because this is of me own accord this time and nae Uncle’s,” Emma reminded, her voice rising. “There is a difference.”
Olivia studied her for a long moment. “What do ye like about him, then? And daenae say nothing. I can hear the lie in that.”
Emma considered the line of raindrops on the glass. “It is simple. He is direct. I daenae ken about his other vices, and that is the purpose of this visit. But for now, I admire that about him.”
“Aye,” Olivia drawled. “Men in power tend to be very direct.”
“Ma,” Emma said, and there was a tired smile in the word.
“I ken, sweetheart,” Olivia relented, softening. “I ken.”
They rode for a while, with only the harness to keep them company.
The castle appeared ahead, and a wave of discomfort washed over Emma.
All she saw was the way her heart had pounded, how cramped it all felt when she realized she was going to give her life away.
All she remembered was the woods, the smell of the damp earth, the sound of the log crashing into Jack’s shoulder, and his hands pinning hers to the soil.
“What if ye find yerself alone there?” Olivia asked suddenly, pulling her out of her reverie. “What if he doesnae give ye any of his time?”
“Then I will ken me decision,” Emma answered, tugging at her dress. “Plus, I can be alone and still be quite fine.”
“And if his councilmen turn their faces on ye.”
“Then I turn mine back,” Emma said. “We daenae live to be liked. Ye taught me that.”
This time, Olivia did smile. “There ye are.”
Emma said nothing. Instead, she gave her mother another tired smile.
“Aye.” Olivia folded the handkerchief once more and put it away. “Ye remind me of meself at yer age. I said fine words to me ma, too.”
“Did ye mean them?”
“For a while.” Olivia’s gaze drifted back to the rain. “For a while, I meant every word.”
“I intend to do so as well.”
“Ye intend to be a stubborn lass?”
“I intend to be an honest lass.”
The horses slowed at a rut, and the driver pushed them through. Emma let her shoulder rest fully against the cushion. She found she could breathe deeper here. Perhaps it was the fact that she had come to terms with her decision or that the road was much smoother here.
“Tell me one thing,” Olivia said. “If ye find a kindness in him ye didnae expect, will ye take it?”
“I will consider it,” Emma replied. “If it comes without a price.”
“There is always a price.”
“Then I will weigh it against me own.”
“And if the price is yer peace?”
“It willnae be,” Emma murmured. “He himself wants peace too much.”
“Ye speak as if ye ken his heart.”
“I ken what I have seen so far.”
“Right. In the three times ye have spoken with him.”
“Sometimes that is enough. I daenae have to like him to ken that he is a man who stands where fools might bow.”
“And a man some call a killer,” Olivia reminded her.
Emma’s jaw tightened. “And a man some call a savior. Both might be lies. I will make me own assessment.”
Olivia nodded. “Aye, that is the only one that counts.”
“All it takes, Ma, is five days.”
The castle grew even closer, and Emma watched the rain slide faster down the glass window.
“If ye ever fall in love—” Olivia began, gentler now, as if setting the idea down like a cup rather than hurling it like a stone.
“Maither,” Emma interrupted.
“Aye?”
“Daenae try to scare me with that.”
“I am nae trying to scare ye,” Olivia said. “I am trying to tell ye what happens to women who say never.”
“It willnae happen.”
“We cannae bank on yer words now, can we?”
Emma let out a slow breath and turned her head until their eyes met. “Listen to me. This is an arrangement. I plan to keep me word as long as he keeps his. I daenae ken how else to explain this to ye.”
“People change, Emma. Ye may see him as one thing today and then see him as something else entirely tomorrow,” Olivia reasoned, her voice as even as the road ahead of them.
“I daenae doubt that.”
“I am just afraid that ye might see him just a little too differently. If ye ken what I mean.”
“It willnae happen.”
“We need to be prepared on the very off chance that it does.”
“Ye cannae fall in love with a man in five days.”
“Can ye nae?”
“Maither,” Emma sighed. “Trust me. The last thing ye need to worry about is me falling in love with a man like Jack Barkley.”
A tense silence settled over the carriage, and nothing could be heard for the next minute except the sound of the wheels digging into the soft soil. The rain had cleared a little until there was nothing more than a light drizzle now.
“We are here,” the driver announced as the carriage rolled to the gates.
Emma felt the cold settle in her bones. The gates were much taller than she remembered.
But then she didn’t remember much the last time, as she was only trying to find a way out.
Now, she could properly study everything.
The grey walls that were draped in fresh green ivy, the tall towers that disappeared into the low noon sky, and even the courtyard that seemed to stretch on for miles on the other side of the castle.
Laird MacLeod was wealthy, and now, perhaps for the first time, it was registering just how wealthy he was.
“It is nay wonder people come to him for alliances and nae the other way around,” Olivia commented, echoing her thoughts.
Jack was standing on the steps that led into the main keep. His coat was dark and hugged his shoulders rather nicely. His hair was less tousled than Emma remembered it, and the green in his eyes somehow shone even brighter than before.
She liked to think that the more mischief he was up to, the brighter the color of his eyes.
He did not move until the driver jumped down and swung the door wide for her and her mother.
“Welcome to MacLeod Castle,” Jack said, tilting his head a little. “I’m glad me bride considered doing this in the first place.”
As Emma’s feet landed on the soft soil, a shiver ran down her spine. She did not like the way that word made her feel.
Bride.
Once she was properly settled, she would tell him not to use that word anymore. For now, however, she would let it slide.
“Oh well, nothing is set in stone yet, me Laird.”
A smirk curved his lips, an involuntary reaction to her using his title.
“Of course,” he returned, his tone mild.
Olivia climbed out after her, the cloak around her tight. “Laird MacLeod.”
“Ye must be Lady MacFinn,” Jack said with a brief nod.
“The former Lady MacFinn, if ye will,” Olivia responded, the humility in her voice sickening.
Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Jack lowered his head a little more in acknowledgement. “Once a lady, always a lady.”
Olivia nodded, and for a few more seconds, they stood in utter silence while servants bustled around them.
Lads that Emma assumed to be stable hands led the carriage toward a shed. Two maids hurried across with a covered basket, and somewhere higher, she heard the click of a window. Her eyes, however, never left Jack’s.
“I hope yer trip wasnae too stressful.”
“The journey was long, me Laird,” Olivia replied, finding the safe ground first. “But it was pleasant enough.”
“Then ye’ll rest well here,” Jack assured.
“I hope so,” Emma said quietly.
Jack turned to her, and she saw that same smug smile again. Now that she could properly see him in his element, something about her previous encounters with him felt different.
He was a laird. A proper ruler of a proper castle.
Good God.
She had smashed a log on a laird’s shoulder, and he let her go.
What in God’s name were ye thinking?
“Jack, there ye are,” a feminine voice called, warm as a campfire.
An older lady crossed the courtyard with a baby in her arms. Her smile seemed to light the path ahead of her as she drew closer. The child in her arms had a cap tied neatly under a round chin, and one small fist was curled around thin air.
“Ye must be Emma,” the woman said, stopping before them. “And this must be yer fine maither. I am pleased to meet ye both.”
“Likewise, Lady MacLeod,” Emma returned.
“If I am being honest with ye, I had already given up hope of seeing Jack wed again.”
Olivia laughed, the sound easing the wind. “So had I of seeing me daughter wed at all.”
“Please come inside before ye freeze to death,” Lady MacLeod said, gesturing toward a door behind her. “I am told supper is indecently ready.”
Jack folded his arms and let them continue to talk. He did not add to the conversation. He only watched with uneasy calm. Emma, on the other hand, turned to the child and let the rest move without her.
“May I?” she asked.
The baby leaned toward her before anyone could answer, and Emma pulled the small weight against her chest. The baby’s fingers found the green ribbon in her hair and tugged it with great seriousness. Emma smiled despite herself and loosened the bow so it would not pull.
“There, wee one,” she murmured. “We will keep ye from mischief.”
The child’s cap loosened, and Emma smoothed it with her thumb. The baby smelled of milk and wool and the faintest scent.
There it is again.
It was the same scent she had smelled on Jack back in the woods.
What in God’s name was that?
She didn’t have enough time to think about it as the baby settled against her, snuggling into her neck. That coaxed another laugh from her. When the baby’s eyes slid past her to find her father, her little face contorted. Emma noticed it almost immediately.
The baby’s nose scrunched, and a slight tremor settled on her lips. She was close to tears.
Jack cleared his throat. “I’ll see ye both at dinner.”
He turned away from the steps before anyone could reply and went through another door without looking back.
Emma watched him go, and the baby settled at once.
“A sweet lass,” Lady MacLeod murmured, touching the baby’s foot with a fond finger. “And a fine way with bairns, Lady Emma.”
“Only practice,” Emma said. “We have cousins enough to keep our arms full.”
“A blessing.” Lady MacLeod smiled.
Emma responded with a slight smile of her own and held the baby even closer. She turned as the women began walking toward the Great Hall.
Welcome to the castle once again, she told herself, trying to stave off an onslaught of thoughts.
Hopefully, this wasn’t another mistake she would live to regret.