She didn’t. Instead, Ava changed the subject and reached for the bundle. “We might as well open these gifts, do ye nae think?”
“Do I have a choice in the matter?” Emma asked.
“Nay,” Olivia and Ava chorused.
Emma shot her mother a confused look.
Olivia shrugged. “I want to see what is in the bag.”
Emma exhaled and watched Ava untie the top parcel.
The first box included shawls from home and lavender bottles tucked between folds. Emma pressed her face to the wool for a breath and then laid it across the bed. The second parcel contained ribbons and a length of very fine lace. The third was less solemn, as it only contained spiced sweets wrapped in paper and a carved wooden stag with a crooked leg.
“For luck,” Ava explained. “Or yer temper, whichever is more prevalent the day ye intend to use it.”
“Daenae worry, it will do for both,” Emma snorted.
They ate one sweet each and saved the rest, causing the room to smell like honey and flour.
Ava leaned her head against the window frame a while later, her voice low. “Ye ken, I didnae sleep well at all last night.”
Emma frowned. “Why?”
“The driver snores.”
“What?” Emma asked, her eyes widening.
“Aye, like thunder.”
“Thunder?” Olivia repeated.
“Thunder under a blanket,” Ava clarified. “A muted storm.”
Emma shook her head. “Ye’re a menace.”
“A useful one,” Ava quipped. “It doesnae matter anyway. I am here, am I nae?”
Emma rummaged for her cloak. “Come, ye must see the castle.”
Ava raised an eyebrow. “Ye sound like ye already like it here.”
Emma hesitated, then tied the clasp at her throat. “Perhaps just the gardens,” she said. “The air is good.”
Olivia looked up from her seat. “Mind ye daenae get lost, girls.”
“We willnae,” Emma assured her.
“I have a feeling it is quite easy to get lost in a castle this big,” Ava commented, catching Emma’s hand and squeezing it once.
Emma squeezed back, feeling the warmth go straight up her arm. “Daenae worry, I will protect ye.”
The afternoon lay warm and soft over the outer walls, and the late sunlight settled on the stone. Ava looped her arm through Emma’s as if they’d never spent a day apart, talking about everything and nothing. It was one of those things they did on long walks, and Emma had found that it always made the journey shorter.
“Ye need to ken that everyone at MacFinn Castle is talking about yer betrothal again,” Ava revealed, her voice clipped. “Some still say the Laird’s a monster, but others say he’s nae of this world because he is more handsome than temptation itself.”
“I daenae have an answer to that,” Emma said, her voice as dry as anything.
Ava threw back her head and laughed. “So ye think he is both?”
