Chapter 15
Emma had never realized until now how louder the castle felt when Logan was in it. That was the thought that pushed her out of the quiet passage the next afternoon and down toward the stables.
The afternoon light sat soft on the stone floors, the wind brisk enough to nip her cheeks. Inside, the air shifted from cold to the warmer mix of hay, leather, and animals that belonged only to this place.
A stable boy glanced up when she stepped in, and his shoulders went stiff. He executed a clumsy bow that almost knocked the brush from his hand.
“Me Lady,” he greeted. “Are ye lost?”
“Not at all,” Emma replied. “I needed better company.”
His eyes flicked past her, no doubt expecting David somewhere behind. When no one appeared at her shoulder, he relaxed a fraction.
Horses snorted in their stalls, and a dog, one she had seen loitering at the edge of the yard, lay near a post and lifted its head, watching her with wary curiosity.
Emma moved along the line of stalls, speaking quietly to the animals as she went, letting them sniff her hand before she touched them. The stable boy watched as if waiting for her to scream at the first hint of dirt.
Near the back, half hidden behind a stack of old hay, she found a small brown calf, all sharp knees and big eyes, staring at her like she was a thunderclap.
“Oh,” she said softly. “Well, look at you.”
The calf shuffled back a step, then forward again, torn between fear and interest. Emma crouched and held out her hand. It sniffed her fingers, snorted, then did it again.
“Is this yours?” she asked without looking away.
The stable boy came closer. “Nae at all, me Lady. It belongs to a widow down the lane, or it did,” he said. “Her roof nearly collapsed during the last storm. She couldnae feed him and fix her roof at the same time, so he is here for now.”
“He is beautiful,” Emma whispered, her heart clenching in pity.
The stable boy chuckled. “He’s been a nuisance and a sweetheart both, the wee beast.”
Emma found a scrap of hay and offered it to the calf. Its rough tongue snatched it from her palm. She stroked its neck, feeling the warmth under the thin fur.
“What is his name?” she asked.
The boy scratched his head. “We just call him Trouble.”
“That will not do.” Emma tutted. “He does not look like trouble. He looks like he is trying very hard.”
The stable boy snorted. “Ye say that now. Wait till he finds the grain barrels.”
Emma kept stroking the calf, and he leaned into her hand as if he had been waiting his whole short life for someone to do exactly that.
She listened intently as the stable boy recounted how the widow had cried when they led the animal away, and how the calf had cried for three nights and then settled.
“You are safe now,” she murmured to the calf. “You are staying with me.”
The words left her mouth before she had fully considered them. Still, she did not take them back.
The stable boy laughed, then caught her expression and stopped. “Ye want to… take him?”
“Of course,” she said. “He belongs with me.”
“Me Lady, I daenae ken if that is… wise,” he hedged. “Calves grow up.”
“I would hope so. A calf that does not grow up would be the most devastating thing, no matter how cute.”
He had no answer for that.
Emma rose, brushed straw from her skirts, and felt the familiar ache of loneliness flare under her ribs. She couldn’t believe this was her life now, seeking out animals.
Suddenly, the brightest idea came to her mind, and she looked out of the stables. At that moment, Jenny passed by, her hand wet and a basket tucked beneath her arm.
“Jenny,” Emma called.
Jenny turned. “Aye, me Lady.”
“Come here, please.”
Jenny stepped in, eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out. “Is something wrong?”
“Not yet,” Emma answered. “I need your help to make it so.”
Jenny frowned. “That sounds ominous, me Lady.”
Emma nodded toward the calf. “You see that? That calf is ours now.”
Jenny stared at the calf, then looked at Emma almost as if she wanted to ask if her lady had gone mad. “The calf.”
“Yes. I plan to adopt him.”
Jenny nodded. “Of course ye do.”
“And he will not be lonely,” Emma continued. “Because we are going into the village to find him friends.”
Jenny blinked. “Friends?”
“Unwanted creatures,” Emma clarified. “Things people do not have time for. The stable boy gave me the idea.”
Jenny stared a moment longer. “Ye want to walk through the village, asking folk for their spare beasts?”
“Yes.” Emma nodded.
“Me Lady, this is going to become a problem. We cannae keep stray beasts in the castle. The Laird isnae going to like it when he returns.”
A sly smile spread across Emma’s face. “I do not doubt that for a second.”
Jenny cocked her head. “Me Lady?”
“Look, just help me for now.”
Jenny looked unconvinced for the next minute… until she realized she had no choice. “Shall we go tomorrow?”
“No,” Emma responded. “It has to be now. David is not looking, which means we can slip away and return before dusk.”
Jenny sighed again, and soon enough, they made their way down the lane, Emma with her shawl pulled tight and Jenny at her side, muttering quietly about lairds and their strange wives.
The wind tugged at Emma’s hair as the village opened around them with its low houses, muddy ruts, and clusters of people who tried very hard not to stare.
Their first stop was a doorway, where a cat lounged with the air of one who owned the place. Its fur was patchy in spots, its eyes bright and shrewd. When a child tried to grab it, it slid out of reach with ease and swatted the air in warning.
“That one.” Emma pointed at it.
“Me Lady, that one willnae be owned by anyone,” Jenny murmured.
“We will see.”
A couple stood near the cat, the wife with her arms folded, the husband trying to fix a loose hinge on the door.
“Good afternoon,” Emma greeted, stopping at a polite distance.
They started for a brief second before they bowed in their own way, the wife dipping her head and the husband nearly dropping his hammer.
“I wondered,” Emma said, nodding toward the cat, “if you might be willing to part with your… guardian.”
The wife glanced at the animal. “The cat?”
Emma nodded, a smile on her face. “Yes. You will be rewarded handsomely for it.”
“‘Tis a stubborn cat, me Lady. It would be of nay use to ye,” the husband cautioned, his grip tightening on his hammer.
“We shall see,” Emma murmured.
A brief silence settled between them as the wife leaned closer to her husband and whispered in his ear. She was not nearly as quiet as she thought.
“Maybe she wants it for dark magic. The English are always up to stuff.”
The husband went scarlet. “What?”
Emma laughed. “You do not have to worry about that.”
The husband gave her a most apologetic look. “Forgive her, me Lady. She means nay—”
“It is fine,” Emma cut in, too sweetly. “I only want to ease your burden. He looks like he has many opinions.”
The cat chose that moment to rub against her dress, purring with open satisfaction.
The wife stared as if she had just seen a spell. “Well, if he is daft enough to follow ye, he is yer problem.”
Emma bent, scooped the cat up like a prize, and settled it in the crook of her arm. It glared at the world over her elbow as if daring anyone to question this new arrangement.
“Thank you,” she said. “You can come to the castle later, and your reward will be handed to you.”
The husband stammered something along the line of “Ye are welcome,” and the wife stared on, like this was a dream.
“This is already a problem,” Jenny muttered under her breath
“Onward,” Emma intoned.
They reached the market stalls as the afternoon progressed. Emma’s eyes landed on a hen tied to a post. She stepped toward it, and the seller narrowed his eyes at her.
“Me Lady,” he greeted. “How can I help ye?”
She tilted her head and pointed to the hen. “Does she have a name?”
“Aye. Useless.”
Emma laughed. “Really?”
“Aye. She lays eggs only when she feels like it.”
“Well, we must do something about that,” Emma said wryly. “How much for her?”
He named a price that might have frightened a more sensible person, but Emma did not blink.
“Done.”
Jenny made a noise that might have been a strangled plea as the coins changed hands.
“See?” Emma said. “We understand each other already.”
Jenny opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment, a shout went up near the next stall.
A goat, grey and stubborn, had kicked over a basket and was now dragging its tether across the ground, scattering vegetables in its wake.
A boy cursed as he tried to catch it and got another kick for his trouble.
Emma watched the animal lower its head and brace its legs, refusing to be moved by anyone. “That one,” she declared.
Jenny followed her gaze. “Of course that one,” she muttered. “Why nae?”
Emma stepped into the path of the goat. It stopped, surprised, and glared at her. She glared back, and for a long moment, neither of them moved.
“The goat and I have something in common,” she said, almost under her breath.
Jenny cleared her throat. “I am afraid I daenae see any similarities, me Lady. And I thank God for that.”
Emma laughed. “You see, it started to kick when it felt cornered. I do the same as well.”
“Oh…”
The owner, flushed and flustered, hurried over. “Me Lady, I am sorry. He is trouble, from hoof to horn. I will get him out of yer way.”
“How much?” Emma asked.
He blinked. “For him?”
“Yes. He looks… determined.”
The man named a price, and Emma met it and then some.
Jenny groaned softly and covered her face with her hand. “What are ye going to do with a cat, a goat, and a chicken?” she asked as they walked away.
“Oh,” Emma said, “you just wait and see.”
In a matter of minutes, they were back at the castle. The calf met them halfway up the lane, coaxed along by the stable boy, who shook his head the whole time, unable to hide his smile.
Isobel stepped outside and froze. Her hand flew to her mouth. Then she laughed, bright and startled. “By all that is holy.”
David, stationed near the steps, stared as if he was not quite sure whether to draw his sword or help with the chicken. His eyes widened, and his mouth curved into something that might have been a smile before he bit it back.
Isobel came forward, reaching out to stroke the calf’s fur. “Look at ye,” she cooed. “What are ye planning to do with all these animals, Emma?”
Emma shifted the cat so it could glare at David more comfortably. “Well,” she said, raising her voice just enough for it to carry. “Since there is no one to keep me company here, I thought I could engage their services.”
Isobel’s eyes danced with amusement and something sharper underneath. She looked from the animals to Emma and back again.
“Of course ye do,” she said. “And ye picked the loudest company ye could find.”
Emma smiled, slow and private. The castle would not be quiet around her. Not anymore.
Your move, Logan.