“I have not been fortunate enough to witness such a spectacle,” Emma replied. “But you have planted a hopeful thought.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “I believe we have much better things to discuss than the palate of the London elite.”
The conversation soon shifted to safer things. Emma asked questions about the gardens and heard more childhood stories about Logan. Isobel could not remember much, and every time she looked to Logan for help in refreshing her memory, he either shut her down or made up a story that made him look good.
“I ken for a fact that didnae happen,” she had interjected when he recounted one of his made-up stories.
“How would ye ken? Ye daenae remember.”
Emma smiled again, watching the exchange between brother and sister. The castle seemed happy enough, and that, for some reason, felt like the minimum she needed.
A while later, Isobel set her cup down with a faint thud and steered the conversation to Emma.
“Emma,” she said, her tone light, “I want to hear the truth from ye. The man ye said ye struck in yer letter, what did he do?”
Emma felt the old heat creep into her cheeks, but she did not look away. She knew this moment was coming and had prepared for it. Yet its abruptness made her stomach lurch.
Isobel seemed to notice her hesitation. “Ye daenae have to answer if ye daenae want to.”
“Nay, I want to,” Emma insisted, her voice clear. “Ye see, that man was fond of speaking about spinsters, and about the gratitude they owe when any man gives them attention.”
“I daenae like him already,” Isobel scoffed.
Emma smiled. “Well, things went south rather quickly. He tried to grab me, and I told him to keep his hands to himself. He did not. I made sure he understood.”
“So ye broke his nose,” Logan said. It was not a question.
“I did notbreakhis nose,” Emma protested, her cheeks flaming scarlet. “I only twisted it a little with my fists. There were witnesses, so he told his version before I could tell mine.”
Logan’s amusement was plain. “He got off easy.”
Well, that was unexpected. She had not expected a man like Logan to express such sentiment. Had she misjudged him?
Emma swallowed and shifted in her seat. Her eyes flicked to Isobel, who looked at her brother over the rim of her cup, studying him. She then set her cup down with care.
“I am exhausted,” she announced in a voice that was not at all tired. “I shall leave ye both to finish. I suspect ye will manage very well without me.”
“Isobel,” Logan warned, giving her a look.
“Play nice,” she said to both of them. She went to Emma and touched her hand. “Welcome, truly.”
Then she left, satisfied with the arrangement of her pieces.
Silence settled, not awkward but charged. Emma sipped her tea, which was delightfully too sweet.
“She seems lovely,” she remarked.
“Aye,” Logan said casually. “She is.”
Emma swallowed and let the silence hang between them. Then she exhaled and looked at him. “You mentioned earlier that there were more rules?”
He set his utensils down, and the air in the room shifted. “Eager to hear them now, are we?”
“I hope one of the rules does not include me doing anything to flatter ye,” Emma said, matching his tone. “What are they, Laird MacLellan?”
If he caught her snark, he didn’t let it show.
“We will lead separate lives where it suits,” he answered. “Rooms and routines that keep the castle running. Ye will have freedom in the keep and on the grounds within the watch. I willnae make a habit of making decisions for ye.”
