Chapter 13
The castle had fallen silent as Emma and Ava crossed the long gallery. A shaft of moonlight filtered through the high windows and lay softly across the floor, catching the portrait frames as it passed.
They stopped at the portrait of Jack and Stella, the same one Emma had seen the first night she had spent at the castle.
The child’s face was bright, reaching toward her father with a small, open hand.
Beside it, a clean rectangle of darker plaster marked where another painting had once hung.
The gap, for some reason, made the air feel colder.
“I daenae ken why they took hers down,” Emma murmured.
Ava’s lips thinned. “Was she nae killed by the Laird?”
Emma frowned. “We daenae ken that yet.”
“We daenae ken that yet…” Ava cocked her head. “Or he’s starting to get to ye.”
“I’ve had this argument with Ma already,” Emma huffed. “I’ll nae have it again with ye.”
They stood there for a moment. A torch hissed. Somewhere below, a door thudded, and the sound reverberated through the old stone like a slow bell.
Ava folded her arms and studied her sister. “Ye sure ye’re nae blinding yerself simply because he’s handsome?”
“Far from it,” Emma snapped, sharper than she had meant, before she dropped her shoulders. “I just daenae think he did it.”
Ava held her gaze, then looked away. “Then there’s nothing left to say. I’ll meet Ma. Ye should get some rest.”
She turned around, her hair catching a sliver of the bright moonlight.
“Ava,” Emma called, but her sister didn’t slow down. Ava’s footsteps faded and soon were gone.
The gallery felt colder for it. Emma rubbed her temple, then dropped her hand to her side. She faced the empty space again, where the portrait used to be.
“Whatever ye did or didnae do,” she murmured, “I’ll find out soon enough.”
Later that night, the cold night air brushed her skin as she slipped from the corridor to the courtyard. The keep behind her was quiet, and she heard an owl hoot once and fall silent.
Why is it so quiet?
She crossed the courtyard and the gardens and headed straight to the training grounds. The feel of the pale sand under her feet grounded her for some reason. She drew her cloak tight around her and stood on the path, her heart pounding in her chest.
Minutes passed, and yet no one came. The questions started to grow in her mind. Had he asked her out here as some kind of joke? Was this supposed to help her make her decision quicker?
A mild scoff escaped her lips.
“Typical,” she muttered under her breath.
She turned to go. At that moment, she heard the sound of footsteps coming from the dark. Before she could register what was happening, Jack stepped into the light with a maid behind him. His cloak hung loose, and the wind whipped at his hair.
“Ye’re late,” Emma said, her voice low.
He nodded to the maid. “Did ye do as I asked?”
“Aye, me Laird,” the maid responded, before bobbing a quick curtsy and hurrying off toward the keep.
Emma looked past him, marveling at the sight ahead of her. There were more lanterns hanging low along the fence, their glow soft over the sand. There was no longer a vast field. Now it looked completely different. It felt less like a pit and more like a room with its walls pushed back.
Jack faced her at last. “Ye’ll trust me more than once ye learn to defend yerself.”
“Defend meself?” she repeated. “From what?”
“From anyone who tries to catch ye.” His mouth curved. “Ye ken, instead of trying to outrun the person this time, ye might just decide to fight back instead.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Jack, if this is because of the one time I tried to outrun ye—”
“It isnae only that,” he interrupted, coming closer. She didn’t move.
“If this is another of yer games,” she huffed, “I am going back to bed.”
“A lesson,” he said quietly. “Nae a game.”
He circled her slowly, his boots leaving small dents in the sand. “When a man reaches for ye, step aside and let his weight do the work.”
Emma blinked. “We really are doing this?”
Jack nodded. “If ye intend to become me wife…”
“I havenae even made me decision.”
“Ye need to ken how to fight,” he insisted.
“Ye make it sound easy,” she said.
“It is. If ye stop thinking about it, like it is one of yer poems.”
Her laugh was small. “Convenient advice from a veteran.”
He did not answer. He quickly snatched her wrist instead. She gasped and turned on instinct, yanking her arm free. She noticed the surprise that crossed his face and noticed the exact moment it faded into approval.
“Good,” he murmured, the satisfaction in his voice more evident than anything.
They moved again, and this time, he caught her elbow and corrected the angle she had used to attack him. Then, he tapped her ankle with the side of his boot to fix her stance.
“Keep yer chin high, nae stiff. Also, make sure ye watch yer opponents’ hands and shoulders more than ye watch their eyes,” he advised between mild jabs and dodges.
Once, she had forgotten to breathe, and he had come quickly to remind her.
As they continued, a slow realization crawled down Emma’s spine.
She liked this. Maybe it was the plainness or the push and pull of it all, but she enjoyed it.
She enjoyed the way her body learned faster than her mind.
She caught his sleeve once and let go at once, startled by her own laughter.
He laughed too, a short sound that rumbled in his chest.
“Better,” he said.
Then, without warning, he drew her in by the waist. She stumbled, and heat crept up her face.
“Now, what will ye do if the enemy has ye like this?” he asked.
She braced her palm against his chest. “I will fight back.”
“And how will ye do that?”
She meant to shove him, but for some reason, she couldn’t. The space between them had shrunk, and the light from the surrounding lanterns softened his jaw. She could hear his breath, yet she did not step back.
“Caught ye,” he murmured. “Again.”
“I am tired of this game,” she said, though she did not sound tired.
“Like I said earlier, this isnae a game.” His tone shifted. The lesson sat under it like a stone. “Me wife should ken how to protect herself.”
She didn’t even try to correct him this time; his words had landed too hard.
“I assume ye daenae mean from yerself,” she said.
“Definitely nae.” His eyes darkened, but not with anger. “And ye will never need it. I will be there to catch ye.”
He let go and crouched a little to meet her gaze. “But ye will find that I like to be in control even when I am nae there.”
She folded her arms and slowed her breathing. “If ye have reason to think I am in danger, ye should tell me before I marry ye.”
A low scoff escaped his lips. “Ye daenae ken who ye intend to marry, do ye?”
Emma arched an eyebrow. “What are ye talking about?”
He exhaled slowly. “Ye are marrying Scotland’s greatest villain. Of course, there will be danger. I willnae let anything happen to ye, but ye must be prepared anyway.”
Emma waited for a smirk or that tone that told her he was teasing her, but it never came. She believed him, and that unsettled her more than the lesson had.
He straightened and offered his hand. “Again,” he said. “Two more turns, then ye can retire for the night.”
She took his hand, and they worked the same steps again, but this time with fewer fumbles.
When she slipped, he helped her regain her balance with two fingers on her elbow.
When she moved fast, he let her win and did not say it.
However, the knowledge was not lost on her.
The courtyard grew warmer with the lanterns and their breath.
He tested her once more. A reach for her shoulder. A mock pull. She turned and set her foot behind his heel as he had taught her. He barely stopped himself from tumbling down.
“Good,” he said, his smile reaching his eyes.
“Oh, please,” she huffed, suppressing the smirk that tugged at her lips.
“Ye see,” he said, pleased despite himself. “Nae so hard, after all.”
“Nae when ye stop thinking.”
“Exactly.”
She tried not to smile and failed. She was about to speak when they both heard it. A small sound that didn’t sound like the wind or an animal had broken from the hedge beyond the fence.
Jack’s head turned at once, and she felt his hand close around hers, warm and firm.
“Stay behind me,” he muttered.
She obeyed and stepped up to his shoulder. The lantern nearest to them swayed on its hook, and light slid back and forth across the sand.
“What is that?” she whispered.
The sound came again before he could respond, and a single branch rustled in the wind. Then, far out, feet struck the hard ground once and faded.
“Back toward the castle,” Jack ordered.
Emma moved with him despite the questions hanging on the tip of her tongue. The coldness returned all of a sudden, reminding her that she had been outside this entire time. Jack did not draw his sword or anything. She watched him count their steps instead, his hand still clutching hers.
“What was it?” she murmured.
“Could be nothing,” he replied. “Could be a man with enough sense to leave.”
“Ye think it is an intruder?” she asked.
“I think nay one in their right mind would be outside at this point,” he said.
They waited another half minute when they drew closer to the castle, but nothing moved.
“Inside,” Jack uttered.
Emma nodded and let him lead her inside. They did not stop walking until they were well into the hall and enveloped by the warmth of the torches along the walls.
When they were close to the stairs that led to her room, he paused, causing her to do the same. “Emma.”
She looked up at him.
“What I told ye,” he said. “I meant all of it.”
“I ken,” she breathed.
“Do ye trust me?” he asked.
A slight smile crossed her face. “Nae in the slightest.”