Emma’s fingers tightened on the cloth in her lap. “What has he done?”
“It isnae what he has done. It is what hecoulddo.” Isobel drew a slow breath. “Annulment is still possible.”
The air froze. For a moment, Emma could hear nothing but the low ticking of the cooling stove.
“I do not understand,” she said.
Isobel met her gaze. “The church has its rules. One is that a marriage can be annulled if it has never been consummated. If there is nay proof of a shared bed. If both say it was never… consummated.”
Emma blinked. “We are married.”
“In name only,” Isobel said quietly. “Nae in every sense of the word. If ye want, a priest could write it all away, and it would be as if ye never married at all.”
For a heartbeat, Emma saw it. A clear road back to London. Her family taking her in with less talk in the streets. No more dealing with pirates. No moreLogan.
Her chest burned.
“I thought ye might want the choice,” Isobel continued. “After what he said. After letting ye walk out.”
Emma heard her own question before she decided to ask it. “Do ye?”
Isobel’s mouth twisted. “I want me braither to stop hurting himself. If that means letting go of the only woman who has made him laugh, then so be it.”
Annulment.
A word that should have tasted like freedom felt sour on Emma’s tongue.
“I do not want to be rubbed out,” she said. “Not by some priest.”
Isobel’s shoulders dropped, as if she had been braced for a different answer. “Good,” she breathed. “Then ye should ken that he wasnae the one who thought of it. The elders did. They told him it might be kinder for ye both, but he walked out on them.”
Emma’s head snapped up. “He refused the annulment?”
“Aye. Then he shaved his face clean and has been pacing like a caged animal ever since.” Isobel’s gaze softened. “He is on his way here.”
Emma’s lips parted. “What?”
“I am sorry. I thought if I told ye earlier, ye wouldnae want to see him.”
“Isobel—”
The knock at the door cut her off.
Emma’s eyes darted to the door and then back to Isobel.
“I am sorry,” Isobel whispered.
William reached the door first, and Emma watched his whole body tense as he pulled it open.
Logan stood outside in plain clothes, cheeks bare, eyes ringed as if sleep had kept its distance. Without the beard, he looked younger and worse for it, like someone had stripped the last shield from his face.
Emma rose.
William shifted in front of her, shoulders squared. “You have a nerve,” he sneered.
Logan looked at him. “I ken,” he said. “And I will answer to ye if she wants it.”
Emma stepped past her brother. He made a frustrated sound and tried to catch her arm, but she shook him off gently. She stopped a few paces before Logan.
