Chapter 12
The afternoon light spilled across the floor, right beside Emma, reflecting the texture of the stones. She sat by the window with a piece of paper in front of her and a quill that just wouldn’t stay between her fingers, no matter how hard she tried.
Her eyes returned to the paper. She had been trying to write a poem for the past thirty minutes, and for some reason, no words would come out. The only word she had managed to write down was ye, and she had crossed it out three times.
A knock at the door jolted her out of her reverie, and she turned to see Lara slip inside with a small curtsy.
“Me Lady, ye have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Emma frowned. “I wasnae expectin’ anyone.”
“‘Tis yer sister. Lady Ava.”
The quill slid from Emma’s hand and dropped onto the floor. “Ava?”
Her sister’s name felt like sunlight after rain, and all of a sudden, the room seemed bigger.
“Aye.” Lara smiled, sharing just a little in her mistress’s joy.
“Send her in,” Emma ordered, already half rising. “Immediately.”
Lara bobbed a curtsy and then vanished. A minute later, the door swung wide open, and Ava burst inside in a rush of fabric and laughter. Her cheeks were bright, and her curls were pinned in a way that made it look like she had been in a hurry.
“Ava!” Emma squealed with the joy of someone who had not seen their sibling in years, even though they had parted mere days ago.
“Look at ye,” Ava said, breathless. “Ye’re all grand and serious now!”
Emma crossed the room and pulled her into a quick, fierce hug. “Oh goodness, I still cannae believe ye’re here!”
They broke the hug, and Emma stood back to examine her sister again, dust and all.
“What brings ye here anyway?”
Ava exhaled, looking down at her cloak. “Uncle sent me with wedding gifts. He wants to be the first to bless ye… ye ken, if it happens. Ma is right behind me, by the way. I thought ye should ken.”
Emma looked past her sister and watched their mother step inside, practically right behind Lara.
“Ye had to come see Ava, did ye nae?” she asked dryly.
Olivia shut the door after Lara scurried out. “I am here to see both me daughters. I daenae ken what the problem is with that.”
“Aye,” Ava said.
“Whatever ye say, Ma.” Emma rolled her eyes.
They all laughed, and something about that sound loosened something inside Emma, a knot she had been carrying since the day she had arrived. She hadn’t known she’d been holding her breath until now, at this moment, with Ava right beside her.
Her sister dropped her bundle onto the chair and spun once, taking in the chamber, one wall after the other. “So this is where they’ve put ye,” she remarked. “Nae a bad prison.”
“‘Tis nae a prison,” Emma countered, narrowing her eyes at Ava’s clear attempt at mischief.
“Aye, aye,” Ava uttered, raising a not-so-apologetic hand. “‘Tis a poor joke. But seriously, ye look well.”
“Thank ye. So do ye,” Emma said. “Ye’ve lost some weight.”
“Emma, stop it, ye sound like Ma,” Ava pointed out.
Olivia shook her head, though she was smiling. “But yer sister is right.”
“See?” Ava laughed as she flopped into the chair by the window, right where Emma had been sitting earlier, then she bounced up because she couldn’t keep still.
“So what exactly are these gifts ye’re bringin’?” Emma asked, folding her arms and watching her sister sink onto the bed instead.
“Oh, ye ken, the ones Uncle had prepared the first time ye almost married the Laird too, and three parcels from the housekeeper and people desperate for news. Everyone’s speculating about the laird who stole one of MacFinn’s nieces.”
Emma snorted. “Stole? I walked in.”
“Ach!” Ava groaned. “Their side of the story is more fun.”
“Aye, I suppose. I would want to hear their side over mine any day.”
“I do want to hear the truth from ye, though.” Ava tugged the ribbon on her sleeve until it lay flat. “How is life at the castle? And I daenae want ye to lie to me.”
Emma glanced at their mother and then back. “I mean, the castle is… vast.”
“Vast and beautiful,” Olivia added, settling into a chair with a small, pleased sigh. “The light is good in the mornings, and the maids in the kitchens ken their work.”
Ava’s eyes sharpened. “And the Laird?”
Emma reached for the quill she’d dropped and set it in the inkwell to keep her hands occupied. “He is the Laird.”
“That tells me nothing,” Ava scoffed. “Except that he breathes.”
Emma’s mouth quirked up. “Well, there is nothing much to say than… he keeps his word.”
Ava narrowed her eyes, and Emma hoped desperately that her twin sister would not push this any further than necessary.
She didn’t. Instead, Ava changed the subject and reached for the bundle. “We might as well open these gifts, do ye nae think?”
“Do I have a choice in the matter?” Emma asked.
“Nay,” Olivia and Ava chorused.
Emma shot her mother a confused look.
Olivia shrugged. “I want to see what is in the bag.”
Emma exhaled and watched Ava untie the top parcel.
The first box included shawls from home and lavender bottles tucked between folds.
Emma pressed her face to the wool for a breath and then laid it across the bed.
The second parcel contained ribbons and a length of very fine lace.
The third was less solemn, as it only contained spiced sweets wrapped in paper and a carved wooden stag with a crooked leg.
“For luck,” Ava explained. “Or yer temper, whichever is more prevalent the day ye intend to use it.”
“Daenae worry, it will do for both,” Emma snorted.
They ate one sweet each and saved the rest, causing the room to smell like honey and flour.
Ava leaned her head against the window frame a while later, her voice low. “Ye ken, I didnae sleep well at all last night.”
Emma frowned. “Why?”
“The driver snores.”
“What?” Emma asked, her eyes widening.
“Aye, like thunder.”
“Thunder?” Olivia repeated.
“Thunder under a blanket,” Ava clarified. “A muted storm.”
Emma shook her head. “Ye’re a menace.”
“A useful one,” Ava quipped. “It doesnae matter anyway. I am here, am I nae?”
Emma rummaged for her cloak. “Come, ye must see the castle.”
Ava raised an eyebrow. “Ye sound like ye already like it here.”
Emma hesitated, then tied the clasp at her throat. “Perhaps just the gardens,” she said. “The air is good.”
Olivia looked up from her seat. “Mind ye daenae get lost, girls.”
“We willnae,” Emma assured her.
“I have a feeling it is quite easy to get lost in a castle this big,” Ava commented, catching Emma’s hand and squeezing it once.
Emma squeezed back, feeling the warmth go straight up her arm. “Daenae worry, I will protect ye.”
The afternoon lay warm and soft over the outer walls, and the late sunlight settled on the stone.
Ava looped her arm through Emma’s as if they’d never spent a day apart, talking about everything and nothing.
It was one of those things they did on long walks, and Emma had found that it always made the journey shorter.
“Ye need to ken that everyone at MacFinn Castle is talking about yer betrothal again,” Ava revealed, her voice clipped. “Some still say the Laird’s a monster, but others say he’s nae of this world because he is more handsome than temptation itself.”
“I daenae have an answer to that,” Emma said, her voice as dry as anything.
Ava threw back her head and laughed. “So ye think he is both?”
“I never said that,” Emma responded.
“I can tell what ye’re thinking, Emma. That is a dangerous mix.”
“And yet here I am,” Emma pointed out, though the word sat oddly in her chest. “I am waiting patiently to see which side wins.”
They rounded a hedge, and the sound hit Emma harder than she had expected. It was a clash of steel, sharp and clean. Their laughter died down, and the training grounds appeared beyond a low bush of rosemary.
Jack and Duncan were facing each other, their swords drawn, and moved before the sisters stepped fully into view.
Duncan went in hard, his shoulders raised, blade chopping for advantage. Jack gave ground without giving way and parried his brother’s strikes as effortlessly as he could.
Ava nudged Emma with her elbow. “Ye’re staring.”
“I wasnae,” Emma huffed, heat rising in her cheeks.
Jack caught her looking, but he didn’t stop or falter.
He only glanced over his shoulder, his mouth curving as if he had expected to find her there.
Duncan lunged at that moment, and Jack jumped to the side, blade swinging.
Steel rang, and Duncan’s sword tore free and spun through the air, skidding across the dirt to stop at Emma’s feet.
Duncan paused, his chest heaving, a flush high on his cheekbones. “That is enough, Braither,” he panted.
Jack didn’t answer him. He had already turned, his eyes still fixed on Emma. The noise in the courtyard seemed to fade. His shirt clung to his skin as he approached them, and Emma couldn’t take her eyes off the ridges of his abdomen.
Ava made a small, delighted sound that she tried to smother with a cough. “Well,” she murmured. “Since when do ye agree about the temptation thing?”
Emma didn’t look at her sister. She couldn’t look at anything but the man walking toward them.
He approached at an easy pace, his boots quiet on the hard ground, sword balanced loose against his forearm. He bowed his head to Ava first, polite as anything.
“Lady Ava, welcome to MacLeod Castle.”
“Thank ye, me Laird,” Ava said, bright as a blade herself. “Ye seem busy beatin’ yer braither into the ground.”
“He’ll survive,” Jack replied, without checking whether Duncan had retrieved his sword.
“Ye ken, ye never struck me as a man who could fight this hard when I saw ye at the cèilidh,” Ava added, tucking her hands behind her back.
“What can I say?” Jack drawled. “I am full of surprises.”
His eyes slid to Emma and stayed there. The light made a clean edge of his jaw as he moved closer and stopped close enough to shadow her shoes.
“There is something I would like to show ye tonight,” he murmured, voice low for her ears only. “I want ye to meet me here.”