Chapter 23
Two Days Until Her Decision
A sliver of morning light spilled across the chamber, thin and cool. Emma lay still and listened to the low crackle of the fire. The silence made last night feel like it never happened, yet the small book on the bedside table did not let her forget.
Tales of Eve.
She should have left the damned book in the library. She should have refused to take it when he handed it to her. Yet here it was, a stark reminder of the fact that everything that had happened in the library last night had happened.
Her face grew warm as she reached for it, then drew back when a knock sounded at her door.
“Who is it?”
Lara slipped in with towels and a steaming basin. She set them on the washstand and bobbed a curtsy. “Good morning, me Lady. I thought ye’d still be sleeping. I didnae expect ye to respond when I knocked.”
“Sleep wasnae easy,” Emma admitted.
“Shall I draw ye a bath, me Lady?”
“Aye. That will help a lot.”
Lara nodded, after which she wrung out a cloth and set out fresh towels. Her eyes paused on the book, then flickered away. She asked about breakfast and the time for dressing.
Emma gave short answers, unable to think about anything other than the book that burned a hole in her bedside table. A part of her was certain that she had not caught some of the things Lara had said.
When the bath was ready, Lara stepped back. “Will ye be needing anything else?”
“Nay, thank ye.”
When the door closed, steam rose from the bathtub and fogged the air.
Emma walked into the bath, sank into the water, and let the heat seep into her skin.
She tried to think of simple things—the day’s tasks, the market the women had mentioned.
She even tried to think of the food the kitchens might serve them later that afternoon.
Anything to avoid thinking about what actually bothered her.
She tried not to picture his hands on her waist, or the way his voice had turned rough. The memory, however, did not obey her. It drifted closer, like the suds in the bathtub, until she pushed it away again.
“Damn ye, Jack Barkley,” she whispered a few minutes later as she stepped out of the bath.
She dried herself fast and wrapped herself up in a towel.
The air felt cool on her damp skin, and the book still waited on the table.
Without thinking twice, she grabbed it and shoved it in a drawer.
She couldn’t deal with the thoughts in her head and the book on her table.
If she couldn’t see it, perhaps she would not be able to think of it.
After wearing the dress Lara had laid out earlier, she opened the door to her room and stepped out into the corridor
From the far end, she could hear a soft laugh, low and warm. It wasn’t a woman’s laugh, and she hated how quickly she recognized it.
It was him.
She hesitated, then followed the sound to the nursery.
Jack stood at the cradle with Stella in his arms. He had the child tucked against his chest, and his voice was quiet.
“Easy now, little one. Ye’ve caused enough mischief for one morning.”
Jack did not see her at first. She watched as he kissed the baby’s temple and swayed once. Stella patted his jaw and gave a small, bright laugh that filled the little room. Emma felt a smile curve her lips before she could stop it.
“Ye’re up early,” she said.
Jack looked over his shoulder at her, his gaze finding hers immediately. There was something steady and unreadable in his eyes. It disappeared before she could think further of it and ask what was wrong.
“She was restless, and I thought I’d spare the nurse.”
Stella saw Emma and reached out with both hands. Jack shifted the baby toward her. Their fingers brushed, and the touch held a little longer than it should. It also sent more shivers down her spine.
Lord, this cannae go on.
“Jack—”
“We need to talk,” he cut in, almost as if he could hear the thoughts in her head.
“Do we, though?”
“Aye. We must discuss what happened last night.”
“Nay, we daenae need to discuss it,” Emma answered, quick and too sharp. Then, almost without realizing it, she lowered her voice. “‘Tis done.”
He watched her. The room fell quiet, save for Stella’s soft breaths and the creak of the rocking chair.
“Are ye sure, Emma?” he asked. “We cannae pretend it didnae happen.”
“I’m nae pretending,” she said. “I’m only moving on.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. Emma had known him long enough to know that what he was feeling wasn’t anger. It was something he did when the ground shifted under him and he chose not to show it. A look of utter resignation.
He nodded once. “As ye wish.”
Before either of them could say more, Catriona walked in with a soft hum and a basket on her arm. “There ye are. I thought I heard laughter in here.”
Jack stepped back while Emma passed the child into Catriona’s arms and tugged down her sleeve to hide the small tremor in her fingers.
“She’s bright as the sun this morning,” Catriona added. “We’ll feed her and walk her.”
“Aye,” Jack uttered. “I’ll come by later.”
Catriona smiled at Emma. “Ye’ll join us, Emma?”
“In a little while,” Emma replied. “I have something to do.”
Catriona nodded her head and left with the child.
The door closed, and silence fell again. Emma and Jack stood a few paces apart, but they might as well have been standing on opposite ends of the world. The tension between them was too thick to cut with a knife.
He spoke first, his voice lower than earlier. “If ye want me to stay away, say it plainly.”
“Stay where ye must,” she said. “I have nay claim to ye.”
His eyes stayed on her face. “And if I said I have a claim on ye?”
She held his gaze, though her breath stuttered in her chest. “Then I would say ye still have two nights to prove that ye are worth the trouble.”
A beat passed. Jack almost smiled. Almost. Instead, he glanced at the rocking chair, then at the cradle, as if reminding himself why he should stand where he was and not come closer.
“Will ye keep the book?” he asked.
“I might return it,” she said—a lie, of course. “It belongs in the library.”
“It belongs wherever ye want it,” he countered. “But I willnae press.”
“I am grateful,” Emma allowed. She then turned toward the door, pausing for a second. “Thank ye for minding her this morning.”
“She may like ye more than anyone else in this castle,” he said. “But she is still me daughter. I daenae expect yer gratitude for caring for her.”
The first smile of the morning crept onto Emma’s face at those words. “It is good that ye think that way. Also, I daenae think she likes me more than anyone else in the castle.”
“Aye, she does. Ye daenae have to deny it.”
“That is her poor judgment,” Emma said, her voice soft.
“Or fine taste,” Jack countered. “She is me daughter, after all.”
Silence ensued for a moment, and they heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside.
Emma sighed and reached for the knob.
“Emma,” Jack said.
She looked back at him. “What?”
“If ye need anything… anything at all, send for me,” he said. “Any hour of the day. Do ye understand?”
Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “Aye, I am well aware of yer rules.”
“Ye daenae understand. If ye need me whenever, send for me. Use anyone, but make sure to send for me.”
“I willnae need anything.”
“Still,” he insisted. “Send for me if ye do.”
She opened the door. “Good day, Jack.”
“Good day,” he answered.
She stepped out and retreated down the corridor, the nursery now quiet behind her.
She exhaled as she made her way down the stairs, while making herself count each step.
She needed order, simple tasks, a list she could finish before noon.
Something her mind could focus on, so she could stop thinking about him for once.
In the Great Hall later that morning, the women spoke of the market, of salt and barley and a cart gone lame on the east road.
Emma tried to listen while her mother asked about colors for ribbons, but her focus could only hold so long.
Even when Ava teased her about the wine-red dress she had worn the previous night, Emma only answered with a thin smile and a few words.
She felt as if she were standing in two places at once, here among the women and also back in the library, with Jack’s head buried between her thighs and his tongue licking—
“Emma!” Her mother’s voice brought—no, jolted her back to the present.
Her eyes flew open, and she turned to Olivia, whose face was contorted with a mix of concern and curiosity.
“Are ye all right?”
“Aye,” she responded, her voice clearer than anything. “Aye, I am fine.”
When the conversation shifted to flowers, she excused herself and walked out to the courtyard. She needed peace, and for now, silence was going to have to hold.
The air had the bite of a new day, and the sun had risen just enough to illuminate the mountains on the horizon. A few guards crossed to the far wall, and somewhere a groom led a horse.
It was the sight of a castle waking, ready to face the day.
She stopped under an arch and leaned a shoulder against the stone.
Then, she pressed her hands together until the tremors faded.
Last night had moved too fast, yet not fast at all.
She had not felt hunted by Jack like she usually did.
She didn’t feel chased. She had felt seen, and that, for some reason, felt dangerous in a new way.
Lara found her there and bobbed a curtsy. “Shall I bring yer cloak, me Lady? There’s a keen wind.”
“Thank ye. I am well.”
“Would ye like the book put back in the library?” Lara asked. “I saw it on the table earlier.”
Emma kept her eyes on the courtyard, pressing her lips into a thin line. She really needed to find another place to put the book.
“I’ll see to it meself,” she said.
“Aye, me Lady.” Lara hesitated. “Will ye break yer fast now? They’ve laid out oatcakes and honey.”
“In a little while,” Emma replied.
When Lara left, Emma drew in a breath and released it. She had told Jack the truth. She would move on. Yet the words felt hollow.
She turned back toward the hall and walked inside. Catriona’s voice drifted from the nursery in a low song. Stella babbled in reply. The sound stirred a dull ache beneath Emma’s ribs, a tender ache she did not have a name for.
Jack stepped out of a side passage just as she reached the stairs. He had changed his coat and looked composed, but still tired. He paused as if to speak, but then gave her a quick nod instead.
“Two nights to go,” he murmured. “How does it feel so far?”
“How does what feel?” Emma asked, cocking her head.
“Kenning ye will be Lady MacLeod,” he said. “It must feel great.”
A snort escaped her, perhaps louder than she had intended. “Well, I daenae ken how to feel because I havenae decided to be yer wife just yet.”
He gave her a small smile, one that didn’t call for an argument. “‘Tis only a matter of time, lass.”
He moved past her right as the last word escaped his lips.
She watched him go, then looked toward the nursery door and down at her hands. She went to wash them because, once again, it gave her something to do.
By noon, she had made a list for the steward, a note for the kitchens, and a promise to Catriona to walk Stella after her nap. The tasks steadied her, yet under each one, the same thought lingered.
We cannae pretend it didnae happen.
She would try anyway. She would keep her distance, and she would keep her word, and she would keep her heart where it belonged. That was the plan. Plans held for a time.
From the nursery, a small laugh rose again. Emma closed her eyes and let the sound wash over her. Then, she turned around and went to find the steward.