“And we will spend our lives together. We will share a home. We will share a bed. If we are fortunate, we will raise children.”
“Aye,” he said. “We might.”
“Then trust should matter.”
He shook his head once. “I daenae need trust for that.”
“You do not?”
“I believe ye will be a good maither. I believe ye will keep a home that doesnae crumble around our heads, and I believe ye willnae poison me food. That is enough.”
The words should have warmed her, but to her, they felt like scraps tossed from a table.
“Enough foryou,” she pointed out.
“Aye.” He nodded toward the dark shape of the castle ahead. “I am nae made for more. Whatever soft bits folks are meant to have, they were torn out between the day I left this place and the day I came back. The sea took the rest.”
“The sea?” she asked, watching him. “Or what men did to you on it?”
“Does it matter?” His voice sharpened. “It is gone either way.”
“It matters to me,” she insisted. “Your father made choices, and the pirates did too. If you put all the blame on the sea, then no one around you has to answer for anything.”
He glanced at her again, eyes darker now. “Ye think I need to forgive and forget?”
“No,” she said. “I think you should stop taking out your mistrust on the wrong people.”
They rode another stretch in silence.
The castle walls grew taller. She could see movement now, figures at the gate and a cart rolling toward the side entrance.
He exhaled. “It doesnae change what I have to give. Or what I daenae.”
She felt the last of that small, fragile hope from the road curl in on itself. “I see,” she muttered. “It must be very convenient to declare yourself incapable and be done with it.”
He frowned. “That is nae what I said.”
“No?” she said mildly. “You say you cannot trust. You say you cannot give more. You say it is finished. That sounds a great deal like a man closing a door and blaming the hinges.”
“Emma,” he warned.
She drew her cloak tighter around herself. The torches at the gate burned brighter as they drew nearer, yellow light licking at the stone.
“It is quite all right,” she said. “I understand what you are offering. Children, a home, and the opportunity to warm your bed. Nothing more.”
“That is nae nothing.”
It is not enough.
She did not say that, though. Instead, she straightened her back and exhaled. “Very well.”
They passed under the arch as the men at the gate dipped their heads, and stable boys moved forward to take the horses. Emma kept her face turned slightly away from him as they slowed, her mouth curved in something that might look like a faint, satisfied smile.
“I will see ye at the festival tomorrow,” she said, her tone light.
She swung down from the horse before he could answer, letting the groom’s steady hands guide her. Not once did she turn to look at him. Not until she walked through the big front doors.
She had had a glimpse into Logan’s soul. Their relationship has progressed to that level, and yet it wasn’t enough.
