“Ye are awake at the wrong hour and wandering the halls for the wrong reason,” Duncan said. “That looks like a man who has lost his mind.”
Jack held his brother’s eyes. “I am awake because there is a castle to protect. I walk because I willnae have her frightened in her bed. Is that all right with ye? Do I need yer permission to breathe as well?”
Duncan raised his hand in surrender. “I didnae come here to fight ye, Jack.”
“I ken how ye feel about Emma.”
“How I feel doesnae matter.”
“Ye’re right. It doesnae.”
A brief silence settled between them, and Jack continued to scrawl even more numbers in the ledger. The scent of themelting wax filled his nostrils as Duncan approached the desk and took the seat opposite him.
“What about the other people in the castle? Or do ye only care about Emma?”
“I care about everyone in the castle,” Jack said, not bothering to look up. “Starting with her.”
Duncan let out a breath. “Aye. I daenae expect anything else.”
Jack said nothing and watched his brother rise to his feet.
“I shall check all the gates one more time.”
“Take Calum with ye,” Jack instructed. “He needs the miles.”
Duncan nodded and left.
Jack closed the ledger and then opened it again. He drew a line down the margin and made a neat mark for each man on watch. He did it twice to be sure the count matched the roster. It did. The small work kept his hands steady.
He rose from the desk after a while and crossed to the fireplace. The remaining coals burned with a low red. He took the piece of iron and laid two pieces of wood across it, small enough that the fire would not leap. The ember caught and ran a thread along the edge. He watched it climb until the thin flame held.
The ledger waited behind him. He turned back to his desk and forced himself to sit again. For a few moments, he pretended to work. The quill scratched once, twice, then stopped.
His eyes slid shut, and the memories of earlier that evening came rushing in. He could almost see her as she had looked in the library, standing so close that he could hear the tremor in her breath.
His hand curled into a fist on the desk. “Emma,” he muttered, his voice low and rough.
The word meant nothing because the heat in his loins did not fade. Instead, it crawled through him, unwanted and strong, until he could barely breathe.
He needed to break it, to move, to do anything that was notthis. Anything that wasn’t dealing with more ledgers or records than necessary. He pressed his palm to the growing bulge in his trousers, squeezing and feeling a wave of pleasure rush through him.
The other guards were far away. He needed relief, and he knew he could get it alone if he closed the doors.
A better choice would be his room. He wouldn’t be disturbed there until morning. At least, unless Troy or Duncan had something urgent to report.
He palmed himself harder, feeling his length strain against his trousers. Ultimately, he resigned himself to staying in the study. He sat back in his chair, about to unbuckle his belt, when he heard it.
The sound had cut through the silence, faint but distinct, and he knew his study well enough to know that it was foreign. He reached for a small dagger on the edge of the desk, his eyes narrowing.
If another intruder had found their way into his study, he wouldn’t even bother with an interrogation. It would be instant death. He turned and saw something flutter near the windowsill. A mild frown creased his face as he moved closer to examine the object.
A few more steps to the windowsill, and he could tell already that it was a scrap of parchment pinned against the glass by the wind. He closed the space in two steps, turned the lock, and caught the paper before it could fly away.
He would remember sticking a piece of paper on his window, would he not? Or was it Emma who had placed it there?
He unfolded the parchment and skimmed his eyes over its contents. The handwriting was jagged and uneven.
Whoever had written this note seemed to have done it in haste, but the words were clear. Clear enough to make his heart skip a beat.
