She swallowed hard. Her mouth moved twice before words came out. “I am all right,” she gasped. “He didnae reach me.”
He let out the breath he had been holding since the rise. It left him weak for a beat, and he pulled her in and held her there with the hill at her back and his chest a wall in front.
She trembled. So did he.
His chin found the crown of her head and rested there for a second, then he straightened and took stock.
“We go now,” he said. “Up the slope. Me horse is waiting at the edge of the woods.”
The horse stood steady under them, its breath foggy in the chill. Emma felt Jack’s hands on her waist as he lifted her into the saddle, his grip strong and familiar.
The moment his touch left her, the air shifted. His shoulders set like stone. He looked past her, not at her, and the muscle in his jaw worked once, then went still.
“Thank ye,” she said, her voice raw. “For saving me life.”
“Thank ye for caring about me daughter,” he returned, looking ahead. “But this was a mistake.”
Her fingers tightened on the saddle. “Excuse me?”
He clicked his tongue to get the horse moving. “I should never have brought ye here. I should have kept me distance.”
“Jack, what are ye talking about?” Emma asked, the urgency in her voice more prominent than anything.
“Ye were right. And I suppose I just needed to see that properly. I will set ye free when we get back to the castle.”
“Jack, what are ye talking about? I daenae want to leave.”
“Well, ye should. Ye deserve to live the life ye want, nae stay bound to me all the time. Ye daenae deserve to marry Scotland’s biggest villain, Emma. Ye deserve to be a proper poet. The best one in the Highlands, too.”
The words struck her hard.
She stared at him, stunned, then her anger rose hard and fast. “Ye’re sending me away? After everything? After Stella? After the promise we made? The promisesyemade?”
He said nothing. He lowered his gaze to the trail and let the silence do the work. They rode in silence until the trees thinned and the path ahead grew more visible in the weak morning sun.
Intense pressure built up inside her. One that broke when they got close to the lake near the castle gates.
“Stop,” she snapped.
He drew the horse to a halt, and they both dismounted without looking at one another. She went to the water, scooped a handful, and splashed it over her face. The shock steadied her voice.
She turned back to him. “Ye cannae touch me like that and then tell me what I deserve or daenae deserve.”
“Emma—”
“I heard ye talk, did I nae?”
He swallowed.
“Ye cannae give me a child to love, then take her from me. Ye cannae save me from death, then throw me back to an uncle who will sell me by the pound. Ye should have just let Arthur kill me at this point.”
He flinched as if the last word cut. “Daenae say that.”
“What do ye think awaits me if I go back?” she asked. “What life, Jack? Tell me!”
He looked over her shoulder to the far edge of the woods. “I am sorry. I cannae put ye in more danger. We cannae marry.”
Her next breath shook, and she squared her shoulders. “Ye are right. I daenae want a man who thinks distance is the same as protection.”
