Whoever had shot the arrow was an expert marksman. That much was evident. And for some reason, it only made him more curious as to who he could be dealing with.
For now, though, the warning was well received. And if he did his job well, there wouldn’t be another warning. Of that much he was certain.
CHAPTER 26
The castle wasquiet under a bright moon. Jack stood at her door and listened to the silence on the stairs. Then, he knocked once. He waited, then knocked again.
The lock lifted, and Emma stood there in a pale nightshift, her hair hanging over her shoulders like a shadow caught by the candlelight.
“Lass,” he said. The word felt rough in his throat.
“If ye’ve come to plan another kind of training, ye can do it without me,” she said dryly. “I’d like a one-night respite from yer experiments in persuasion.”
He let a low laugh slip. “I cannae grant ye that, lass.”
She stepped aside, and he entered.
Her chamber, for some reason, seemed to settle around them at the same time. One candle burned on the table, and another rested on the fireplace. The light touched the book she had left open. Jack didn’t need to see the cover to know that it was the same book he had given her back in the library.
He nodded toward it. “Ye ken there is a poem in there where the lass finds herself pressed against a wall.”
Color rose to her cheeks. “I havenae reached that page.”
“Then ye’ll enjoy it when ye do,” he said.
“I am sure I will.” A soft laugh slipped out before she could catch it.
For a moment, nothing pressed on them. Not the castle, nor the cold night air. Jack wanted nothing more than to tell her just what a magnificent sight she was. It was like watching an angel gain its wings and fly into the surreal sky.
The silence, however, was deafening, and another matter needed to be discussed. More urgent than how her hair made him feel.
He looked at her face and felt the weight in his own bones. “I came to apologize,” he began, his voice soft. “For this evening. For snapping when ye asked abouther.”
“I understand,” she said, the edge gone from her voice. “Still, if ye ever wish to speak of it, daenae hesitate.”
Jack let out a breath and sat on the edge of her bed. The sheets felt rough under his fingertips, and he traced one line in the weave as if the thread might steady his focus during the conversation. He might as well just tell her the whole story. There was no reason to hide anything anymore.
“It was a marriage of duty,” he started, his voice low. “Her name was Moira. Me maither thought it wise, and her faither thought it wiser. I agreed because the clan needed peace, and I could offer land and coin. She came here with a chest of fine gowns and a heart that wanted nothing to do with any of what I had to offer. Perhaps I should have seen it coming. I should have seen just how sad and miserable the castle made her. How sad and miserableImade her. Maybe I could have stopped her or even tried to…” He exhaled.
Emma remained standing near the table at first, with one hand on the back of the chair, but then took a step closer to him, as if to offer silent encouragement.
“She was kind at first,” Jack continued. “Or perhaps I only called it kindness because I wished to. I was in the saddle more than I was at the castle, so we kept different hours. She missed the town. She missed the light and the noise and the flattery. I missed the signs of what grew in the quiet between us.”
Emma’s gaze never left his face. “Ye loved her?” she asked.
He weighed the word and left it where it lay. “I wanted to,” he admitted. “I tried to. But I just couldnae.”
He rubbed his thumb over the hem of the blanket.
“There was a man. One of mine, Jeremiah. He was me former man-at-arms, and I had trusted him since we were lads. They found each other during me absence, I suppose. Then, they started havin’ an affair. It went on longer than I kent.”
Emma swallowed. “I daenae ken what to say.”
Jack laughed. “Nor did I when I learned the news. Or even the plot.”
Emma frowned. “The plot?”
“Aye. One night, I came back from patrol and found the chamber door open. She had a blade. A little one meant for cutting fruit, but it was as sharp as anything. She held it as she had held her own mind for months—hard and close. She said she would rather kill me than let me stop her from loving Jeremiah.”
