“Well, what?”
“Ye’re meetin’ him.”
Emma kept her eyes on the path. “He asked.”
“And ye’re going.”
She meant to say no, but what came out was thinner. “Kenning Jack, he probably only wants to talk.”
Ava’s mouth curved. “He wants to talk to ye at night on the training grounds. Emma, ye cannae possibly be this naïve.”
Emma breathed slowly. “I daenae ken what to tell ye.”
Ava’s laugh was soft and brisk, almost like her footsteps. “Then it seems the monster and the temptation are the same man, after all.”
They stepped out of the shade and back into the light. The sky had begun to darken, color warming its edges. At the far end of the castle, a bell rang, indicating that another hour had passed.
Ava squeezed Emma’s arm as they walked further down the path leading to the Great Hall. “If ye daenae like what ye hear, leave. If ye do, ye’ll still leave. Let him work toward the rest.”
“He means to,” Emma stated, before she could think better of it.
“Good,” Ava said. “It’ll be nice to see a man sweat for something worth having.”
Emma exhaled but said nothing in response. Now wasn’t the time to argue or say anything contrary.
Ava had always believed that it was better to settle with the best of men or not to settle at all. How would Emma describe Jack to her without compromising that notion?
The truth was simple—she couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. Before trying to convince Ava of what kind of man Jack was, Emma needed to see for herself. And that meant she needed to see just what he had planned for her tonight.
The clang of steel still rang in the air when Jack dropped his sword. A cloud of dust rose around his boots, and he rolled his shoulder once, working out a kink.
Duncan bent over, hands braced on his knees, gulping in the air. When he looked back up, there was a grin on his face.
“Enough, aye? Ye’ve already made me look a fool in front of the ladies.”
“Aye,” Jack uttered. “That was the plan.”
Duncan snorted and straightened, brushing dust off his tunic. “At least we willnae have more of that tonight.”
“Aye.” Jack reached back for his sword, ignoring the burning ache in his biceps.
“There is something else,” Duncan added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a short stack tied with twine. “A few letters came for ye.”
“Oh,” Jack murmured, staring at the letters.
“Aye. One from yer friend in Inverness, another from Stella’s grandsire.” Duncan held up the last letter, sealed with dark wax. “And this one… it doesnae have a name on it.”
Jack took the stack, the dark seal heavy on his thumb. “Who delivered it?”
“Just a courier,” Duncan responded.
Jack nodded. “Can ye make sure that the men finish their drills?”
“Aye, me Laird.” Duncan gave a two-fingered salute and headed for the racks, still muttering about unfair fights.
Jack stood there a moment longer, the sealed letter sitting cold in his hand, then turned toward the castle.
The stairs to his study were quiet. A pair of maids walked past him, bowing their heads. In the warm room, he relaxed into his chair and set the letters on the desk. A slow breath escaped his lips as he cut the twine and worked through what he knew.
