Chapter 27
Emma’s eyes settled on the fireplace. She thought of getting up to stoke the coals, but something about her position was too comfortable. She didn’t want to get up.
She didn’t want to leave this place. Not even for a minute.
The fire burned brightly, but not so bright as to cause alarm. The last of the light shifted over the stone floor beside the bed as she leaned against the carved post, her hair loose over her shoulders.
Jack sat near her, the heat from the fireplace warming them. The ribbon in his hand slid smoothly, almost like silk, as he caught her sleeve and tied it back into place.
Emma looked up at him, at those damning brown eyes and how they seemed to make everything else around her disappear.
“What are ye thinking?” she asked.
He looked down at her with a coy smile on his lips. “Oh, just a few things.”
“Things like what?”
A smile curved his lips. “Do ye want to ken? Truly?”
“Of course,” Emma responded, her voice soft.
He drew in a breath before turning fully toward her, a look of what might be desperation contorting his face.
Emma held her breath, the realization dawning on her perhaps later than it should have. “Jack—”
“Say ye’ll marry me,” he said, his voice rough.
“I—”
“Ye must also promise ye’ll nae run again this time.”
Her eyebrows rose. “That’s a fine command for a proposal.”
The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Aye, well, I was never good at the kneeling part.”
“Then perhaps ye should practice,” she teased, her laughter easing the tension. “A woman might like to see a laird humbled once in a while.”
He gave her another sly smile. “Ye’ve seen me kneel.”
Emma felt heat creep up her face. “That is different.”
He pretended to consider it. “‘Tis all the same. If I kneel, lass, it’ll nae be during a proposal.”
She swatted at his arm, laughing despite herself. “Ye’re something else, do ye ken that?”
He caught her hand before she could pull away. “Aye, maybe. But I’m asking all the same.”
Her gaze softened, her smile fading to something steadier. “And if I say nay?”
“Ye wouldnae.”
“What makes ye so certain?”
“I just ken ye wouldnae say nay.”
“And if I do?”
“Then I’ll ask again tomorrow,” he declared, his voice low but firm. “And every day after, till ye tire of refusing me.”
“So, yer plan is to wear me down?”
“Me plan is to keep convincing ye until ye see that this is the right choice.”
She studied him for a long moment, then shook her head. “Ye’re relentless.”
“Aye,” he said. “That’s how I keep what matters to me.”
Her smile widened. “I’ll do me best.”
“Is that an aye?”
“‘Tis an I’ll do me best.”
He studied her face, understanding for once the calm there. “That’ll do. Tomorrow, we’ll tell them all.”
“Fine by me.”
“So that’s it? Ye’re agreeing to marry me?” Jack asked, his voice this time tinged with disbelief.
“Well, it looks like ye didnae even need the five nights ye asked for, after all,” she quipped, her cheeks still flushed.
He grinned, the look on his face saying, I’ve always kent I’d need much less than that.
“Aye, but they sounded impressive.”
The teasing softened the last edge of what still stood between them. The tension that had settled over the room for days now felt lighter than air itself.
For the first time since she had arrived at MacLeod Castle, there was now real peace between them. They sat close enough that he could feel the rhythm of her breathing, slow and even, as the fire burned low near them.
Outside the castle, it was as quiet as ever. Nothing could be heard except for the sound of the cold evening air rustling the trees and the occasional bird’s twittering in the stables.
He reached for the fallen blanket and draped it around her shoulders. She did not pull away.
For the first time, neither of them tried to be defensive or erect a wall. This was as vulnerable as they were going to get. Jack traced his thumb over the back of her hand as he must have realized the same thing.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated, quieter this time, as if saying it twice would make it real. As if it would quash any notions she had about running away.
“Aye,” she agreed, her eyes half-lidded. “Tomorrow.”
The word hung between them, warm as the room.
When she urged him to leave before dawn found him there, he nodded and stood up. The small book now lay on the floor beside the hearth, open to the page she had marked with a thread. He picked it up and brushed the ash from its edge.
“Keep it,” he said, placing it in her hands. “Seems to bring the finest mischief.”
She laughed softly, pressing it to her chest. “Then it has already served its purpose.”
He smiled at that, her laughter soft enough to still the rest of the night. He leaned closer, their foreheads touching. For a minute, they stayed that way, not speaking and not moving.
“Ye should go now. Ye ken, before dawn catches ye here.”
He looked at her, an intrigued smile on his face. “Ye daenae want that, do ye?”
“I want to announce the wedding on our own terms, nae because Lara caught ye in me bed.”
He nodded, as if she didn’t need to say anything more. He didn’t even need to look at her to know that she was watching.
He always knew when she was watching.
“Sleep, Emma,” he murmured, tucking the hem of his shirt beneath his waistband. “Tomorrow begins something new.”
She nodded, her eyes closing briefly. “Then go before I change me mind.”
He hesitated, then stepped back. The light caught her face one last time before the door closed between them. When he left her, she was still smiling in the candlelight.
The corridor outside was still as quiet as he had left it. He made to turn and go to his chambers. He could still sleep a few more hours before he had to wake up and tackle the day. However, the dim glow from the Great Hall drew his attention.
Who is there?
He walked there slowly and stopped by the door. The scent of smoke and wood hit him before he could enter, a sharp contrast to the scent of lavender in Emma’s chambers.
Duncan sat behind the large table, his boots stretched toward the dying fire and a half-filled glass at his side. The look he gave Jack when their eyes met was unreadable. Almost half suspicion, half calm. The kind of calm Jack knew would come with several questions.
“Is it nae past yer bedtime, Braither?” Duncan asked, a coy smile playing on his lips.
Jack narrowed his eyes. “Hilarious as always, Duncan.”
Duncan shrugged and watched him pull out another chair. “From the look on yer face, I can only guess ye had a conversation with yer bride.”
Jack nodded. “The conversation. I told her everything.”
Duncan studied him for a long moment, twirling the glass in his hand. “Then there’s nay turning back, is there?”
Jack nodded once. “Nay, there isnae.”
The flames whispered as they burned down. Duncan lifted his glass, and the light caught the surface of the liquid inside.
“She kens the worst about ye now,” he said. “If she stays, I suppose that says something.”
Jack stared into the fire, wrestling with the notion of telling his brother that Emma had agreed to marry him. At first, he thought of changing the subject, but then he decided against it at the last minute.
“Well, seeing that she just agreed to marry me, I suppose that says more than something.”
Duncan’s eyebrow rose. “Did she?”
Jack nodded, fighting the urge to smile. “Aye.”
Duncan nodded, a grin splitting his face. “Then maybe ye’re learning what love is, after all.”
Jack smiled faintly. “Call it what ye like. I just daenae want to lose her.”
The silence settled between them again, more comfortably this time.
Jack leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he watched the logs burn in the low fire.
“She’ll bring light into this castle,” Duncan murmured after a while. “Maither has said it since the day she arrived.”
“She already has,” Jack admitted. His voice was low, and he was almost surprised by his own honesty. “I just daenae ken what to do with it.”
Duncan chuckled softly. “A reasonable man would try nae to put out the light. The question is whether or nae ye are reasonable.”
Jack nodded, letting the words sink in. They continued to drink until the glasses were empty and the fire was practically out. When Jack finally rose to his feet, Duncan stayed where he was, his head resting against the back of the chair.
“Rest, Jack,” he urged. “Considering everything ye did yesterday, ye’ve earned a quiet night.”
Jack nodded and crossed the hall. His boots echoed once on the stone floor, then softened as he stepped into the corridor and climbed the stairs to the upper floor.
The air grew colder as he moved, but there was one more stop he needed to make. He paused at his daughter’s door and rested a hand against the frame.
Inside, he heard the small, even sound of her breathing. The nurse had long since gone to bed, and the child slept in peace, untouched by the noise that had filled the castle these past days.
He gently pushed the door open and watched her through the narrow crack, the faint moonlight catching her cherubic face. He stood there longer than he had meant to.
The sight soothed something within him that had been churning since the morning. He thought of Heron and what he could have said to him before the arrow quieted him for life. He wished the man had arrived sooner. Or that he had spotted the rider before he shot the arrow.
Now, he was back to where he had started, with no clue as to who wanted his daughter gone and his bride dead. His resolve to fight for them till his last breath, however, had not wavered. He still intended to do just that.
He pulled the door shut and turned down the corridor, his steps quiet against the floor. At his door, he paused and unbuttoned his shirt. The air here was different from that in Emma’s chambers or the Great Hall. It smelled faintly of wood smoke and wax.
He poured a little water into the basin, rubbed his palms clean, and splashed some on his face. When he was done, he crossed to the window and looked out over the dark sweep of the hills beyond. The stars hung low above the horizon, cold and clear.
Jack curled his fingers even tighter around the windowsill. Somewhere out there, perhaps not even that far, was a man who had sent two people to their deaths and would likely send more.
His jaw tightened at the thought, and his pulse quickened. He couldn’t wait. Not when there was now more for him to lose.
He turned back to the bed near the fireplace and sank into it, the pillows warm and soft beneath his head.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, he would tell them all.
The image of their faces when he broke the news in the Great Hall flashed through his mind as he squeezed his eyes shut.
Sleep came only a few minutes later.