Jack turned onto his side and watched her. “Have ye ever lied to me, Emma?”
“Nay, I’ve had nay reason.”
“Would ye, if ye did?”
She paused, holding his gaze. “We shall have to wait and see, shall we nae?”
He studied her for a beat, then looked away. The line between playfulness and worry crossed his face and was gone again. He reached for a loose sheet, folded it once, then set it aside without reading it.
Emma felt the truth of the moment press close. They were talking about everything. Everything except what had just happened. Was that his way of trying to appease her? His way of trying to calm her down?
Unable to ignore the voices in her head, she pushed herself upright and smoothed down her skirt. “This was a mistake.”
Jack turned back to her. “Is it a mistake the second time?”
She shot him a glare. “Aye. ‘Tisanothermistake. I’m losing me sense of judgment here.”
“Nay,” he countered. “Ye ken now what our life could be like, if ye allowed it.”
“Ye wanted distance,” she reminded him. “Ye said it. Ye wanted peace, and rules, and sleep without ghosts.”
“Aye,” he acknowledged. “But nae in moments like this.” His voice softened. “Still, duty demands that we produce heirs.”
The air turned cold. She glanced at the candle, then at the door, then down at her hands.
“Duty,” she muttered.
Of course.That was what it always came down to. She started trying to fix her sleeve, not saying anything else.
He sat up beside her. “Let me help ye with that?—”
“It is all right, ye daenae have to?—”
“I insist.”
She didn’t protest any further. Instead, she watched him touch her sleeve and straighten it with care. His knuckles grazed her shoulder, and she almost leaned into him.
She did not.
He bent, picked up one of the books that had fallen to the floor, and handed it to her. “I want ye to take this.”
Her eyes darted between the book in his hand and his face. “Jack?—”
“I want ye to have it. Who kens, ye might just get inspired,” he insisted.
She took the book from his hand and held it to her chest, watching the title glisten in the light.
Tales of Eve.
She said nothing else as she rose to her feet. He stood with her.
For some reason, the room looked like a storm had wrecked it, with the books still scattered across the floor. A part of her secretly wondered if a shelf had been broken in the process.
That thought vanished when he lifted his hand and held up two fingers, his eyes steadier than the night sky.
“Two more nights to go, lass,” he reminded her.
Her mouth shaped a sound that was almost a laugh and a warning. She did not give either. “We shall see,” she muttered.
