A beat passed. Jack almost smiled. Almost. Instead, he glanced at the rocking chair, then at the cradle, as if reminding himself why he should stand where he was and not come closer.
“Will ye keep the book?” he asked.
“I might return it,” she said—a lie, of course. “It belongs in the library.”
“It belongs wherever ye want it,” he countered. “But I willnae press.”
“I am grateful,” Emma allowed. She then turned toward the door, pausing for a second. “Thank ye for minding her this morning.”
“She may like ye more than anyone else in this castle,” he said. “But she is still me daughter. I daenae expect yer gratitude for caring for her.”
The first smile of the morning crept onto Emma’s face at those words. “It is good that ye think that way. Also, I daenae think she likes me more than anyone else in the castle.”
“Aye, she does. Ye daenae have to deny it.”
“That is her poor judgment,” Emma said, her voice soft.
“Or fine taste,” Jack countered. “She is me daughter, after all.”
Silence ensued for a moment, and they heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside.
Emma sighed and reached for the knob.
“Emma,” Jack said.
She looked back at him. “What?”
“If ye need anything… anything at all, send for me,” he said. “Any hour of the day. Do ye understand?”
Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “Aye, I am well aware of yer rules.”
“Ye daenae understand. If ye need me whenever, send for me. Use anyone, but make sure to send forme.”
“I willnae need anything.”
“Still,” he insisted. “Send for me if ye do.”
She opened the door. “Good day, Jack.”
“Good day,” he answered.
She stepped out and retreated down the corridor, the nursery now quiet behind her. She exhaled as she made her way down the stairs, while making herself count each step. She needed order, simple tasks, a list she could finish before noon. Something her mind could focus on, so she could stop thinking about him for once.
In the Great Hall later that morning, the women spoke of the market, of salt and barley and a cart gone lame on the east road. Emma tried to listen while her mother asked about colors for ribbons, but her focus could only hold so long. Even when Ava teased her about the wine-red dress she had worn the previous night, Emma only answered with a thin smile and a few words.
She felt as if she were standing in two places at once, here among the women and also back in the library, with Jack’s head buried between her thighs and his tongue licking?—
“Emma!” Her mother’s voice brought—no,joltedher back to the present.
Her eyes flew open, and she turned to Olivia, whose face was contorted with a mix of concern and curiosity.
“Are ye all right?”
“Aye,” she responded, her voice clearer than anything. “Aye, I am fine.”
When the conversation shifted to flowers, she excused herself and walked out to the courtyard. She needed peace, and for now, silence was going to have to hold.
The air had the bite of a new day, and the sun had risen just enough to illuminate the mountains on the horizon. A few guards crossed to the far wall, and somewhere a groom led a horse.
