Chapter 22
The door closed behind her, and the silence came back at once. Jack stood where she had left him, his hands at his sides, his breathing too quick. The room still held her scent. Every single scent.
He fixed his eyes on the candle and tried to make his pulse match the small, steady flame.
“Enough,” he muttered under his breath.
The word did little, and his shoulders ached as he pressed his knuckles to the stack of books.
After a few more minutes of being unsure what to do, he crossed to the door, turned the key, and stepped into the corridor. The cold air met his face and cooled the heat inside him.
He might just survive the night without the burning desire that crowded him like the sweat on his face.
He moved as slowly as possible, letting the torches that flickered along the walls distract him. Then, he took the steps two at a time and came out beneath the arch that opened onto the Great Hall. The night air was dewy, and the torches flickered in the wind.
Perhaps it was the mist. Perhaps he was being imaginative as usual and was thinking too hard about his encounter with Emma at the library.
His man-at-arms stood to the left of the arch with a pike and a watchful look.
“Troy,” Jack greeted, clearing his throat. “How are we doing?”
“All is quiet, me Laird.” Troy dipped his chin. “Ye’re still awake?”
“Aye. I had some work to do in the library,” Jack offered. “I couldnae sleep on time.”
“Aye.” Troy’s eyes flicked to the door behind him. “Strange. Lady Emma came out of there nae long ago.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “Did she now?”
“Aye, me Laird. Looked like she was holding a book close. I wanted to speak to her, but she was walkin’ really fast.”
Jack brushed past him as if the remark was nothing. “Thank ye for letting me ken. Daenae forget to do the rounds. Lanterns are low at the north gate.”
“I will,” Troy said. “What about the south gate? Do ye want it checked again?”
“Twice,” Jack replied. “And the small gate as well. I want eyes there until dawn. We had an intruder once. We cannae risk another one.”
Troy shifted his pike. “Aye, me Laird.” He set off at a trot across the courtyard.
Jack did not follow him. He walked along the inner wall and checked the first door he came to.
It was a storeroom with a sound lock. He checked the next and the next, glancing once into the dark for the smell of damp or the hint of anything out of the ordinary.
He did not find either, but the habit seemed to soothe him.
He checked the rest of the doors, keeping his hands busy. If his hands were busy, perhaps his thoughts might follow suit. He walked further down, his eyes peeled for anything that seemed wrong or out of place.
A young guard emerged from the shadow of the well and straightened fast. “Me Laird.”
Jack narrowed his eyes at him. He always made it a habit to know all the guards who worked at the castle by name. However, Troy did not keep a steady group all the time.
“Name,” he demanded, looking at the young man before him.
“Calum, me Laird.”
“Who gave ye this post, Calum?”
“Yer man-at-arms, me Laird.”
Jack looked at the boy’s feet. There was mud on the heels, but it had dried up. There was only one part of the castle that had mud.
“Ye were on the east wall at dusk.”
“Aye,” Calum confirmed. “I was swapped at the bell.”
“Good.” Jack nodded once. “Keep yer eyes on the walk above the kitchens. I want the path to the back watched as well.”
Calum swallowed. “Aye, me Laird.”
Jack walked away, crossing the courtyard and climbing the short stairs to the outer walk. From there, he could see the dark line of the woods ahead and the faint cut of the lined path. It looked empty and harmless enough. But then, so did the courtyard the night the intruder broke in.
The wind tugged at his coat, and he heard the sound of a dog’s huff. One of the castle’s attack dogs, maybe. He was glad that Troy was putting every resource to use.
Nothing could be risked at this point. Not Stella, and most definitely not Emma.
He pressed both palms against the stone and let the cold further cool the heat in his skin.
It helped, but once again, it was not enough.
Her voice stayed close, and the sight of her in that dress, and the steadiness of her when she should have run.
He could still taste her on his lips, feel her beneath his fingers.
The thought made his member stiffen.
Good God.
This was what he had been trying to avoid.
He closed his eyes, opened them, and set off along the walk to the north corner.
A second guard stepped out of the slight opening along the wall. “Me Laird.”
Jack gave him a brief nod. “Do ye have anything to report?”
“Nothing here except the sound of the wind and the birds, me Laird,” the guard replied, his voice almost as calm as the evening wind itself. “We heard a cart on the road an hour ago, but it didnae turn in.”
“Good,” Jack uttered. “If it does, I want to ken about it as soon as possible. ‘Tis better to be careful over nothing than to be careless over something.”
“Aye.”
Jack gave him another nod as if to say, Carry on, before walking away. He eventually reached the eastern corner of the castle and looked down the wall. He couldn’t see any lanterns or hear anything from the trees.
Good.
He eventually took the inner stairs down and came out into the passage that led to the guest quarters. There was a guard at the far end, near the corner, a veteran with a scar across his upper lip.
The guard looked at Jack and pushed off the wall. Jack didn’t bother asking for his name; he was too tired to do it.
“Watch this hall,” Jack instructed. “Ye arenae to leave this line of doors.”
“Aye, me Laird.”
Jack glanced toward a door he knew all too well.
A sliver of light spilled from beneath the edge, thin and steady.
He stopped far enough away that the guard would not think he was aimlessly wandering, then moved again.
He walked on and made a full turn of the floor until he came back to where he had started.
The guard stared at him as if he were a judge about to ask him to plead his case. “Me Laird.”
“Are ye comfortable doing all of this on yer own? These quarters seem a bit too vast for only one man to manage.”
The guard cleared his throat. “Ye want a second guard, me Laird?”
“A second and perhaps a runner,” Jack replied. “If ye hear anything, ye can deal with it in pairs.”
“Aye.” The guard gripped the shaft of his spear harder. “The lady is safe, me Laird.”
Jack let the words sink in for a moment. “See to it,” he said, then went back outside.
Troy was waiting for him near the arch where he had begun his midnight exploration. “I doubled the guards at the south tower. I checked the gate with me own hands. The lock is sound, and there is nay sign at the field. All is good.”
“Good.” Jack looked at the overcast sky. “Ye understand why I am doing this, do ye nae?”
Troy lowered his voice. “Aye, me Laird. Very well.”
“The safety of the people in this castle is very important to me. As it should be to ye as well.”
“I am well aware, me Laird,” Troy said. “And that is what I intend to achieve with the guards.”
Jack swept his eyes across the courtyard. “Then keep the guards steady. Nay talk.”
“Nay talk,” Troy echoed. “Aye.”
Jack turned around and walked back into the castle. The long hall echoed behind him, almost as if the air was throwing his footsteps back at him. Sleep still refused to come. He hated it.
Was it the incessant need to make sure that the castle was secure, or was it the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about Emma? Was it both?
He took the side door to his study and lit a single candle. Then, he set the ledgers down on his desk and opened one at random.
Here he was again. Perhaps the numbers would help him get the sleep he needed. He grabbed a quill and sat back in his chair, exhaling as loudly as he could.
Then he got to work.
He had only been writing for thirty minutes when the door creaked open and Duncan stepped in without knocking. He leaned his shoulder against the wood.
“Ye are still awake,” he noted.
“Aye,” Jack grunted.
“Ye could try to sleep,” Duncan said.
“Ye think the idea never crossed me mind?”
Duncan watched him write two numbers that meant nothing. “Troy told me about yer patrol. That was why I came to check in on ye.”
“Aye,” Jack muttered, lowering his voice as he wrote another number.
“Ye think another intruder will come tonight?”
“I think they, whoever they are, are watching,” Jack replied. “And I willnae give them even an hour to take advantage.”
“And yer bride?”
Jack looked up. “Ye want a report on Emma, too?”
“I want to ken that ye havenae lost yer mind,” Duncan huffed.
Jack set down his quill. “I havenae.”
“Ye are awake at the wrong hour and wandering the halls for the wrong reason,” Duncan said. “That looks like a man who has lost his mind.”
Jack held his brother’s eyes. “I am awake because there is a castle to protect. I walk because I willnae have her frightened in her bed. Is that all right with ye? Do I need yer permission to breathe as well?”
Duncan raised his hand in surrender. “I didnae come here to fight ye, Jack.”
“I ken how ye feel about Emma.”
“How I feel doesnae matter.”
“Ye’re right. It doesnae.”
A brief silence settled between them, and Jack continued to scrawl even more numbers in the ledger. The scent of the melting wax filled his nostrils as Duncan approached the desk and took the seat opposite him.
“What about the other people in the castle? Or do ye only care about Emma?”
“I care about everyone in the castle,” Jack said, not bothering to look up. “Starting with her.”
Duncan let out a breath. “Aye. I daenae expect anything else.”
Jack said nothing and watched his brother rise to his feet.
“I shall check all the gates one more time.”
“Take Calum with ye,” Jack instructed. “He needs the miles.”
Duncan nodded and left.