Troy continued speaking, but Jack heard none of it.
Emma crossed the hall, offering a nod to his mother and a faint smile to Olivia. When she reached the table, she hesitated for a second before taking the seat beside him. Her scent—soap, smoke, and something light—reached him before her voice did.
“Ye look beautiful tonight,” he complimented, his voice low for her ears only.
Her eyes stayed on her plate. “Blackmail didnae work, so now ye’re tryin’ to seduce me?”
“I daenae need to seduce ye, lass.” He let a corner of his mouth lift. “Ye and I already make a fine match.”
Her glare faltered, and he saw a blush touch her cheeks, quick and unwilling. She turned away, finding safety in the bread before her.
Jack glanced at Troy. “Continue.”
“Two men at the southern border by dawn,” Troy said. “Another pair at midday, switch the guards so they daenae tire.”
“Aye.”
The plan passed easily between them, but Jack’s thoughts kept circling back to the woman at his side. The soft sweep of her hand as she lifted her cup. The small, deliberate calm she wore like armor.
Across the table, Catriona and Olivia had fallen into lively talk.
“A few white blooms would suit her hair,” Catriona said.
“Or something soft, like roses,” Olivia suggested, her tone warm.
“Look at her face. Something soft isnae going to flatter that facial structure.”
“Hm, perhaps ye are right.”
Jack saw Emma’s fingers tighten around her cup. She looked as if she would rather face a full room of judges than this.
“What about the dress? I have a feeling that a few flowers might adorn it. Perhaps nothing too serious.”
“Aye. Something different, ye ken?”
“Stop,” Jack blurted.
The word cut through the noise, and the two women looked up, startled.
“If me bride wants yer opinion on something,” he said, his voice calm and clear, “she’ll ask for it.”
The silence that followed was brief.
Catriona’s eyebrow rose. “Fair enough,” she relented. “We’ll save our advice for later.”
Olivia smiled, unoffended. “We still have time, do we nae?”
Jack looked at Emma, and she met his eyes only for a moment, confusion there first, then gratitude. She gave a small nod and lowered her gaze again. The tension in her shoulders eased.
Troy cleared his throat softly, waiting. Jack nodded for him to continue.
“The west ridge?—”
“Will hold till the next rain,” Jack said. “Shift two men from the north post.”
“Aye, me Laird.” Troy bowed his head and said no more.
The low hum of the hall resumed as servants passed with jugs of wine and fresh bread. The air was warm and clear, despite thedimming fire. Jack took slow sips, more to fill the silence than from thirst.
