Chapter 15
Three Days to Her Decision
The cold morning air settled on the Great Hall as all the women gathered near the fireplace, their voices light. Stella toddled across the rug, her curls bouncing and her hands out. Emma steadied a carved horse on the floor, and the child lunged for it with a delighted squeal.
“Aye, now,” Ava said, laughing. “She’s after ye again, Emma.”
Catriona smiled from her chair. “Ye must give yer sister some credit, me dear. ‘Tis nae often the little lassie takes to someone so quickly. She cries with most folk, even me and her faither on some days.”
“I am certain she cries with her faither every day,” Emma quipped, and a wave of gentle laughter rippled through the hall.
A satisfied smile crossed her face. Something about this very moment comforted her.
Having to talk to all these women and care for whatever she wanted without a man like her uncle breathing down her neck was a breath of fresh air.
One she had not even been aware she needed.
Now, she had only three more nights to make her decision, or all of this would disappear once and for all.
Emma lifted the toy and handed the baby back to Catriona. Stella twisted around, her fists full of Emma’s dress.
“Come here, wee lass,” Emma coaxed. “How about we let yer grandmama rest for a bit?”
Stella clung to her harder, and the room erupted in softer laughter. A maid threw a log into the fire, and the heat spread in a slow wave.
For the first time since arriving here, the hall felt cozy.
“Ye spoil her already,” Ava observed, kneeling to rescue the poor horse from under a chair.
“I daenae,” Emma said, though she was smiling. “She came spoiled.”
“Aye, she did,” Catriona agreed, pride in her voice. “And I am glad of it.”
Emma tried again to hand the child over, but Stella threw herself back into Emma’s lap with a dramatic sigh and stuck a thumb into her mouth. The women laughed harder.
“Seems the bairn’s made her choice,” Catriona teased. “If Jack sees this, he’ll nae dare send ye away.”
“Two wee storms on his hands if he tried,” the baby’s nursemaid interjected. “The castle would shake.”
Emma laughed because everyone was laughing. However, the sound sat strangely in her chest, light and tight at once.
At the mention of Jack’s name, her throat tightened. She smoothed down Stella’s hair and looked ahead. Better to keep it simple and keep her voice steady. The other women didn’t need to be made aware of what had transpired the previous night.
What almost transpired before the sound in the woods interrupted them.
A part of her wondered if Jack was ever able to find the source of the sound. He had not appeared in the dining hall that morning, so she hadn’t had the opportunity to ask him.
“Ye’re the only one who can make her speak or make any sound at all,” the nursemaid noted, breaking her out of her reverie.
“She likes singing,” Emma explained. “That is all.”
“Aye,” the nursemaid said, gentler now. “She trusts ye, me Lady. As if she kens ye’ll keep her safe.”
Emma did not answer at once. Stella’s small fingers had found a tangled hair strand on her head and were working it free with fierce concentration. The child huffed a sleepy breath and settled.
“Maybe she only likes soft arms,” Emma said. “And a warm fire.”
Ava glanced up from folding a blanket. “Ye are good with her. Accept the damn compliment.”
“I daenae ken how,” Emma admitted. “She just… settles with me.”
Catriona’s eyes shone a little. “Well, she has to settle down with somebody. Believe it or nae, it’s been a long time since this castle felt some peace.”
The Great Hall fell quiet, and Emma looked up and then back at the child.
Peace.
It was a simple word, and yet a part of her didn’t know if it was something she could secure for long. She was not sure anyone could, for that matter.
“Remember how Ma used to sing to us?” Ava asked, nodding toward her mouth with a smile.
“Aye,” Emma said. “When we were bairns. She sang in the scullery and scared the geese.”
“She sang everywhere,” Ava added. “Even when Uncle said it made his head hurt.”
“That was the point,” Olivia quipped.
They all laughed again, their voices contrasting beautifully with the crackle of the fire.
After a tense pause, Catriona began to hum an old Highland lullaby. Her voice was thin yet sure. Emma felt the tune move through her before she thought to join. She did, softly at first, then steadily. Their voices met and did the work.
Stella’s lashes lowered, and her busy fingers released Emma’s hair. A moment later, her breathing slowed, and her eyes closed.
“Ye see,” Catriona whispered when the last note faded. “Peace.”
“Aye,” Emma murmured. “For now.”
A maid brought a cushion, and Emma shifted, careful not to wake the child.
“Would ye like tea, me Lady?” the maid asked.
“Aye, thank ye.”
“Ye’ll want shortbread with that,” Ava piped up.
Emma opened her mouth to protest, but her sister was already one step ahead.
“Daenae lie.”
“I’ll have one piece,” Emma said.
“Two,” Ava countered. “Or ye’ll steal mine.”
Catriona shook her head, amused. “I’ll have three, since I can count.”
“Four,” Olivia said. “On account of age and rank.”
Laughter rose again, and something loosened in the hall. It also loosened something in Emma.
The tea came later, and everyone was served a cup.
Emma held hers with one hand and kept the other on Stella’s back.
The child slept on, heedless of the fresh log popping in the fire or Ava’s scolding when a crumb fell on the rug.
The older woman had steered the discussion to something Emma couldn’t be bothered to grow an interest in while Ava finished her tea.
Emma looked down at Stella, who was still sound asleep, and returned her gaze to her twin sister. “Ye ken, sometimes I wish I could sleep like that,” she confessed, her voice lowering with each word.
“Is that nae what ye have been doing since ye arrive at MacLeod Castle?” Ava asked, her eyebrow raised. “Sleeping like a baby?”
Emma pressed her lips into a thin line. “I suppose ye’re right.”
“Of course I am,” Ava huffed, a mild grimace on her face.
Emma responded with a mild grin.
“Ye are staying then,” Ava added. It was not quite a question.
Emma kept her gaze on the baby’s sleeping face. “I have only three more nights,” she said. “He means to prove himself, and I still intend to let him.”
“And if he does, what then?” Ava asked.
“Then I will consider it,” Emma replied. “That is all.”
“Consider what?” Ava pressed, her eyes too bright.
“Daenae begin,” Emma warned. “Nae in front of the bairn.”
Ava shrugged, and they continued to drink their tea.
Emma let her eyes drift to the door. She did not expect Jack to appear. She did not need him to. She was content with this—the child asleep, the women easy, the tune still hanging in the air like a thread. He was only an addition she appreciated, not a space she missed.
Right?
Right?
“Ye are thinking too hard,” Ava remarked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I am nae,” Emma countered, letting the question linger in her mind.
“Ye are,” Ava insisted. “Yer mouth does that shape.”
“What shape?” Emma asked.
“This one.” Ava pressed her own lips into a line that made both of them laugh.
Emma shook her head. “I am nae falling in love with a laird, Ava. Forget that nonsense.”
Ava kept her eyes narrowed, and for a brief minute, Emma thought she was going to drop the matter. “Interesting.”
Emma frowned. “What?”
“I never said anything about being in love with him.”
Emma swallowed. “Ye’re thinking it.”
“Nae one bit.”
Emma felt a cold shudder run down her spine. However, before she could muster a response, Catriona rose to her feet, saving the day.
“I’ll fetch a shawl for the bairn,” she announced.
“Aye,” Emma said, perhaps a little too quickly. “Thank ye.”
When Catriona left the hall, Ava leaned closer. “Three nights,” she whispered. “Ye think he can do it?”
“He can do many things,” Emma said. “That doesnae mean he should.”
“Ye like him,” Ava noted.
“I like that he didnae let our maither pressure me. I like safety.”
Ava brushed Stella’s hair gently. “Whatever ye say, Sister.”
Emma exhaled and tipped her head back.
She did not care for him.
She was only holding a child.
She was only breathing in a room that felt safe.
She was only giving the castle a quiet morning.
That was all.
The morning meal came and went, after which the Great Hall fell quiet. The available servants moved gently, clearing away what was left of breakfast.
Emma stepped into the corridor, where a young maid was dusting near the stairwell, her sleeves rolled up and her hair tied neatly beneath a cap.
“Has the Laird risen yet?” she asked.
The maid paused, lowering her cloth. “He left at dawn, me Lady, with his man-at-arms.”
Emma frowned. “Left? Where to?”
“Couldnae say, me Lady. Would ye like me to tell ye when he returns?”
She was about to nod when Ava appeared in the doorway, arms folded, a quiet look of amusement on her face. The silence between them stretched, and she could tell what Ava was thinking without even speaking a word.
“Nay,” she replied quickly. “Daenae worry. I daenae need to ken where he is at all times.”
The maid hesitated, sensing something unsaid, then curtsied and scurried away.
The sisters stood in silence for a moment.
Ava tilted her head. “That sounded a bit eager.”
“It didnae,” Emma scoffed, brushing an invisible speck from her sleeve.
“It did,” Ava insisted, her tone light but teasing. “Ye asked two questions with yer heart in yer throat.”
Emma drew in a slow breath. “It is only proper to know who is in the castle.”
“And yet ye’re nae its keeper,” Ava singsonged, stepping closer. “Ye’re getting attached to him.”
“I am nae.”
“Then why the long face when ye heard he was gone?”
“As much as ye would like to be right, I daenae think I am getting attached to him. I just need to ken where he went.”
“Of course,” Ava drawled, the amusement on her face growing with every second.
“If ye must ken, he still has a few more nights to prove himself to me. I havenae made me decision yet,” Emma said steadily.
“Whatever ye say, Sister.”
Emma turned away, pretending to straighten a vase on the side table. “Ye make too much of nothing.”
“I ken what I see,” Ava said. “And I see ye lookin’ out the window like a lass waiting for a ship that’s nae due to arrive.”
“That is nonsense.”
“Aye,” Ava relented. “Maybe. But ye’re thinking about him even now.”
Emma’s shoulders stiffened. “I’m thinking about peace and quiet, which ye’re nae giving me.”
Ava laughed softly. “Fair enough. I’ll find Ma.” She reached out, touched Emma’s sleeve, and spoke in a quieter tone, “Just be careful around him, aye?”
“I am always careful,” Emma declared.
Ava gave her a small nod and disappeared beyond the far archway. Her footsteps faded into the hum of servants and the sound of the loud bell, indicating that another hour had passed.
The silence that followed was heavier as Emma walked back inside the hall and to the window, her fingers grazing the edge of the stone frame. The courtyard below was still. A few stable boys moved about, carrying buckets or straw, but Jack and his horse were nowhere in sight.
She stood there for a while, watching the sunlight settle on the stones. It was too easy to picture him there, mounting his horse, shoulders squared, head bent in thought.
The image was so clear that she had to blink it away. It was foolish to wonder where he had gone. Foolish to wonder if he had ridden far or if he had thought of her at all.
Put him out of yer mind, Emma.
But she couldn’t. All she could think of was the look on his face the previous night as he trained her and the way his hands covered hers.
She moved to the table near the fireplace and began arranging the flowers left from breakfast. At this point, she would welcome anything to keep her hands busy. Perhaps she could try to see if she could write some lines on paper?
As she dabbed at the vase with a cloth, she thought better of writing the poem. She knew that nothing else would come to mind except thoughts of him, and the last thing she wanted to do was make him immortal in her book.
“Ye’re getting soft,” she muttered to herself. “That’s all this is.”
A maid entered, carrying a basket of folded linen. “Shall I set these in yer chamber, me Lady?”
“Aye,” Emma replied. “Thank ye.”
When the maid left, the hall felt too large again, so Emma crossed to the window once more.
Outside, a pair of guards walked along the wall. The taller one paused to speak to a messenger at the gate. She strained to hear but caught nothing. A moment later, the rider turned his horse and galloped down the slope toward the woods.
“Where have ye gone, Jack?” she whispered, then shook her head.
Nay. Laird MacLeod. Call him Laird MacLeod.
It didn’t matter anyway. All of this would clear up in three nights. Then Ava would stop disturbing her because she knew she would have made a proper decision by then.