Emma looked back at the window. The mist made a mirror, and for a moment, she saw herself there, pale and calm and very distant. Something about her reflection made her feel like a woman bracing for a turn in the road she could not yet see.
“If ye ever fall in love with him—” Olivia began.
“I cannae, Ma,” Emma cut her off, the words coming quicker than she meant. “This is only an arrangement. He needs peace, and I need space from Uncle. It suits us both.”
“He may nae make it easy.”
“I daenae doubt that.”
“Yer uncle says that Laird MacLeod is ruthless,” Olivia added. “He says that the man does what must be done and leaves feelings for others.”
“Uncle says many things when he wants to make a bargain,” Emma scoffed. “Ye cannae take his words as gospel.”
“Was there truth in some of them?”
“Perhaps,” Emma replied. “But Jack isnae?—”
“Is that what ye call him now?”
“Laird MacLeodisnae cruel for sport. If he had wished to scare me, he had had enough time. I daenae think that is his intention. I do believe that he isnae everything that he seems.”
“And yet,” Olivia said, “we are in a carriage, on the road to his castle.”
“Because this is of me own accord this time and nae Uncle’s,” Emma reminded, her voice rising. “There is a difference.”
Olivia studied her for a long moment. “What do ye like about him, then? And daenae say nothing. I can hear the lie in that.”
Emma considered the line of raindrops on the glass. “It is simple. He is direct. I daenae ken about his other vices, and that is the purpose of this visit. But for now, I admire that about him.”
“Aye,” Olivia drawled. “Men in power tend to be very direct.”
“Ma,” Emma said, and there was a tired smile in the word.
“I ken, sweetheart,” Olivia relented, softening. “I ken.”
They rode for a while, with only the harness to keep them company.
The castle appeared ahead, and a wave of discomfort washed over Emma. All she saw was the way her heart had pounded, how cramped it all felt when she realized she was going to give her life away. All she remembered was the woods, the smell of the damp earth, the sound of the log crashing into Jack’s shoulder, and his hands pinning hers to the soil.
“What if ye find yerself alone there?” Olivia asked suddenly, pulling her out of her reverie. “What if he doesnae give ye any of his time?”
“Then I will ken me decision,” Emma answered, tugging at her dress. “Plus, I can be alone and still be quite fine.”
“And if his councilmen turn their faces on ye.”
“Then I turn mine back,” Emma said. “We daenae live to be liked. Ye taught me that.”
This time, Olivia did smile. “There ye are.”
Emma said nothing. Instead, she gave her mother another tired smile.
“Aye.” Olivia folded the handkerchief once more and put it away. “Ye remind me of meself at yer age. I said fine words to me ma, too.”
“Did ye mean them?”
“For a while.” Olivia’s gaze drifted back to the rain. “For a while, I meant every word.”
“I intend to do so as well.”
