She looked at Logan’s profile. The hard line of his jaw. The scar near his ear that she had never asked about. His mouth was set as if he had just given her the price of grain for the season or something just as mundane. There was no flash of anger or pain. She didn’t know if that should worry her more than it already did.
“Logan,” she said quietly.
“Aye.” He did not look at her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” The words came out as steady as she could make them.
“Nay.” His tone stayed calm. “It is done.”
She could have let it drop. The sensible part of her told her to. There was already enough past in this marriage for both of them. But the picture would not leave her. A boy with dark hair and serious eyes, perhaps no older than William had been when he first held a practice sword, sent toward a fate chosen by his own father.
“I do not see how that can ever be all right,” she said. “Even if it was a long time ago.”
He gave a short sound that might have been a mirthless laugh.“Och, lassie. Ye would be surprised what a man can make peace with when he has nay choice.”
“Peace,” she repeated. “Is that what you call it?”
“Call it what ye like.” His voice had gone flatter. “Everyone lies. That is what I learned. Men, faithers, priests, captains. They all say what suits them and expect ye to live with it.”
“Not everyone,” she insisted.
“Aye,” he said quietly. “Everyone. So I learned me lesson. I daenae trust. Nae anymore.”
The road widened a little. Ahead, she could see the faint rise where the land began to tilt toward the sea and the castle hill. The air had cooled by now, and her fingers no longer burned around the reins.
He was not done.
“I suppose I should have ken something was wrong when me faither offered to take me to the beach,” he added.
There it is.
Emma blinked. “So he lied?”
“Oh well, I think he just did what he had to do. I was growing stronger than me braither, but he—he would always be more legitimate than I. So he lured me to the beach and let the pirates take me.”
Emma swallowed thickly, her voice failing her. When she spoke again, it was low and rough.“And that was how you became one.”
He nodded.
From the way he returned his gaze to the path ahead, something told her he did not want to speak about it anymore. It was clearer than anything.
The castle’s highest tower was visible now in the distance, a dark building against the dark sky. She swallowed again, and her throat felt dry.
“I am so sorry you had to go through that as a child.”
He shrugged. “‘Tis nae an issue. It just taught me to never be too trusting.”
“Will you ever trust me?” she asked. “At all?”
His answer came quicker than she had expected.
“Why?”
She stared at him. “Because I am your wife.”
He turned his head and finally looked at her. There was no softness in his eyes, only a weary patience, as if she were asking him to explain why rain fell down rather than up.
“And?” he prompted.
