He opened the door and stepped back. She walked through and paused on the threshold, the book still held close to her chest. For a minute, they stood with the study on one side and the quiet library on the other.
“Good night, Jack,” she murmured.
“Good night,” he answered. “Lock yer door.”
“Aye.” She rounded the corner and disappeared.
She heard nothing behind her. Jack must not have moved until her footsteps faded. She even liked to think he waited until sheentered her chambers and locked the door. For that reason, she made sure the click was a bit loud.
Only when her eyes caught the shaft of moonlight on her bed did she properly exhale.
CHAPTER 22
The door closed behind her,and the silence came back at once. Jack stood where she had left him, his hands at his sides, his breathing too quick. The room still held her scent. Every single scent.
He fixed his eyes on the candle and tried to make his pulse match the small, steady flame.
“Enough,” he muttered under his breath.
The word did little, and his shoulders ached as he pressed his knuckles to the stack of books.
After a few more minutes of being unsure what to do, he crossed to the door, turned the key, and stepped into the corridor. The cold air met his face and cooled the heat inside him.
He might just survive the night without the burning desire that crowded him like the sweat on his face.
He moved as slowly as possible, letting the torches that flickered along the walls distract him. Then, he took the steps two at a time and came out beneath the arch that opened onto the Great Hall. The night air was dewy, and the torches flickered in the wind.
Perhaps it was the mist. Perhaps he was being imaginative as usual and was thinking too hard about his encounter with Emma at the library.
His man-at-arms stood to the left of the arch with a pike and a watchful look.
“Troy,” Jack greeted, clearing his throat. “How are we doing?”
“All is quiet, me Laird.” Troy dipped his chin. “Ye’re still awake?”
“Aye. I had some work to do in the library,” Jack offered. “I couldnae sleep on time.”
“Aye.” Troy’s eyes flicked to the door behind him. “Strange. Lady Emma came out of there nae long ago.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “Did she now?”
“Aye, me Laird. Looked like she was holding a book close. I wanted to speak to her, but she was walkin’ really fast.”
Jack brushed past him as if the remark was nothing. “Thank ye for letting me ken. Daenae forget to do the rounds. Lanterns are low at the north gate.”
“I will,” Troy said. “What about the south gate? Do ye want it checked again?”
“Twice,” Jack replied. “And the small gate as well. I want eyes there until dawn. We had an intruder once. We cannae risk another one.”
Troy shifted his pike. “Aye, me Laird.” He set off at a trot across the courtyard.
Jack did not follow him. He walked along the inner wall and checked the first door he came to. It was a storeroom with a sound lock. He checked the next and the next, glancing once into the dark for the smell of damp or the hint of anything out of the ordinary. He did not find either, but the habit seemed to soothe him.
He checked the rest of the doors, keeping his hands busy. If his hands were busy, perhaps his thoughts might follow suit. He walked further down, his eyes peeled for anything that seemed wrong or out of place.
A young guard emerged from the shadow of the well and straightened fast. “Me Laird.”
Jack narrowed his eyes at him. He always made it a habit to know all the guards who worked at the castle by name. However, Troy did not keep a steady group all the time.
