“Because ye areafraid,” Duncan bit out. “That’s what this has always been about, is it nae? Fear.”
Jack stood up. “I am the Laird. I bear the burden so they daenae have to.”
“Ye are a man,” Duncan said. “And the man I ken is about to throw away the only thing that has made him breathe like something other than a blade.”
Jack looked toward the far wall, where his sword hung. He had carried it into the woods and brought it back wet. He had carried Emma out and set her on a horse and spoken words that cut more than steel.
He felt the cut now, but he kept his voice even anyway. “She will be safer with her family.”
Duncan snorted. “She will besoldby her family. Ye ken that. Ye have eyes.”
Jack said nothing.
“Ye think this keeps her from harm?” Duncan continued. “It only puts it out of yer sight.”
Jack’s hands opened and closed. “What would ye have me do?”
“Ask her to stay,” Duncan urged. “Nae as a prisoner, but as yer wife. If she says nay, ye will at least have failed for honesty, not for cowardice.”
Jack’s head snapped up at the last word, but Duncan held his ground.
“Go,” he said, his voice quieter. “Before she is gone from the castle and all ye have left is a story ye will tell yerself to make the nights quiet.”
Jack’s throat bobbed, but he did not move.
“Listen to me,” Duncan sighed. “Ye love the lass. She loves the bairn and may love ye. If she walks out now, ye will spend the rest of yer life guarding a castle that feels like a tomb. Intruders will be the least of yer problems.”
He stepped back to the door and pressed his palm to the wood.
“Ye are about to lose everything.”
The words hung in the air just like his sword.
CHAPTER 36
Emma fastenedthe last clasp on the trunk and pressed her palms flat to the lid until the tremors stopped. Everything she owned lay inside. Too neat. Too light. Too easy to carry away.
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, lifted the handle, then left it where it was and crossed the corridor to the nursery for the one part she had put off as long as she could bear.
Stella sat bright-eyed in the cradle, fists opening and closing when she saw her. Emma lifted the child into her arms and settled into the rocker. Her voice trembled, then steadied into the rhythm Stella loved.
“A bunny who hops too high,” she sang quietly. “A wolf who pretends he cannae dance. A bear who steals berries from the sky. And a fox who sings off-key.”
Stella clapped as if the words were better than food.
Emma kissed her warm cheeks and soft hands, letting the smell of soap and milk fill her nostrils.
“I will miss ye, wee dove,” she whispered. “More than ye’ll ever ken.”
The air in the doorway shifted. She looked up to find Jack standing there. He did not speak. He simply watched. His face gave nothing away, and still, her chest ached at the sight of him.
He slowly stepped toward her. One large hand rested on the child’s back. He lifted Stella carefully and kissed the small crown of her head once, slowly and reverently. The nurse hovered outside. Jack passed the baby to her.
“Take her,” he said softly.
When the door closed, he turned the key in the lock.
Emma’s back stiffened. “I was saying goodbye.”
