“Oh, really?” Emma asked, her voice high-pitched. “I am most grateful.”
Logan smirked. “And this is the most important one. Nay feelings. This is an arrangement, and it will always stay so. I daenae offer feelings, and I daenae expect ye to have them.”
She listened attentively without cutting him off. It was easier to hear now that she had eaten. Easier to map where she would draw her own lines.
“Are you done?”
He nodded.
“What about heirs?” she asked. She hated the way her voice roughened on the word. It took effort to speak it. “You are a laird, and you know the pressure put on a man like you when it comes to that. What do you expect there?”
“Routines first. We will speak of heirs when the castle can run smoothly with ye in it.”
“I would prefer that,” she said quietly.
The relief that flooded through her touched something raw. She looked down at her hand and found the cup steadier than it felt.
Logan had not moved his chair, but somehow the distance between them had shrunk. The smirk on his face had also returned.
“What?” she prompted, her voice wavering.
His smirk widened. “Nothing.”
“You clearly have something on your mind, my Laird.”
His voice dropped. “Nothing. Just curious as to why ye daenae want to give me heirs. Am I so repulsive, Lady Emma?”
Her breath caught in her throat. When she looked up, she found him nearer than she had thought, or perhaps she had leaned toward him without realizing it. Heat thrummed in the space between them.
“No,” she said. “You are not.” The truth of it made her pulse quicken. “I just—I just need time.”
He watched, waiting for the rest. She let it come.
“I am not at ease with closeness,” she admitted. “Ever since my mother…” Her voice cracked.
She had said more than she meant to.
Logan did not rush to break the silence. He let it settle over the room as the crackle of the fire filled the space a heartbeat at a time.
She gathered herself and set her cup down with care.“So you know, I have rules as well.”
He shrugged. “I would be surprised if ye didnae.”
“No obedience beyond our agreement, and no control over my movements. Marriage is not a trap. If I have traded one door for another, I will walk back out.”
His mouth curved. “Ye are too feisty for yer own good, ye ken that?”
Yet the words carried respect instead of warning.
“You would not want the other sort,” she said.
Their chairs had not moved, but they felt closer. The firelight climbed his cheekbone and made something in her stomach tighten. He leaned forward a fraction, and she did not lean back. The air around them felt even more charged than before.
“I have faced a few feisty people in me lifetime, and I have found ways to tame them.”
She swallowed and tried to focus on anything except the stubble on his chin. “Have you, now?”
“If I really want to do it, I ken ways to tame ye,” he murmured.
