Isobel’s hand squeezed her arm. “Daenae worry, it is only temporary.”
They walked a few steps in silence. A cheer rose behind them as someone finished a difficult turn without falling, and the music grew louder.
Isobel spoke again, tone light at first. “There is something else we can do, ye ken. Small things. Have Logan call to speak with ye. Keep David from letting him slip away. There are ways to coax a stubborn man open.”
Emma stopped. Isobel’s arm slid from hers.
“I do not want tricks.” Her voice was even and low, but it cut all the same. “I am tired of arranging scenes so that he might feel something one day. If he wishes to trust me, he can. If he does not, I will not play for him until he does.”
Isobel studied her for a long moment. There was no teasing in her eyes now. “Aye,” she said quietly. “That is fair.”
Emma might have said more, but the words died in her throat when a shadow moved ahead of them.She gripped Isobel, her heart lurching.
A man stepped out from behind the courtyard, dusting his sleeves. Emma recognized him at once. His height, the way he stood, the line of his jaw. She had seen him in the tavern the other day.
Pete.
“Me Lady,” he greeted, giving a small bow that did not match the look in his eyes.
Emma’s back went rigid.
Isobel drew closer to her. “Pete.”
He inclined his head toward her. “Lady Isobel.” His gaze returned to Emma. “May I borrow Lady MacLellan for a few moments?”
Isobel did not move. “If ye have something to say, ye can say it here.”
Pete’s hands were loose at his sides. “I wish to express me gratitude, that is all.”
Emma could feel Isobel weighing the claim. Her body had turned a little, as if she might put herself between them if she had to.
“I will be all right,” Emma assured. “We are in the middle of a festival. There are people everywhere.” She forced a small smile. “If he is rude, you may scold him later.”
Isobel did not like it. That was clear. She gave a short nod nontheless. “I must check on the maids anyway.”
Emma nodded and watched her disappear into the crowd before she turned back to Pete. “You wished to thank me.”
“Aye.” He folded his hands, thumb rubbing once over a knuckle. “Ye kept one of me lads from a rope, and ye kept a villager from losing his son. That was neat work.”
“It was a game,” Emma said. “They followed the rules. That is all.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “They listen to ye now. The villagers as well. That is nae nothing.”
“I am the Laird’s wife. They listened to me because they listen to him.”
“Sometimes.” Pete’s gaze sharpened. “It is very easy to listen to one with power, is it nae?”
Emma’s fingers curled at her sides. “Did you stop me to say that my husband has authority, or to say something worth hearing?”
That earned her a brief huff of amusement.
“Something worth hearing.” He glanced across the grounds.
Emma followed his gaze and saw Logan standing near a fire pit, speaking to an older villager and two of his crew. His shoulders were set, and his shorter beard showed the pale line of an old scar by his mouth.
“He stands like a laird now,” Pete remarked. “He has always stood like a man who didnae care if steel took him.”
Her throat tightened. “Yes.”
