“Ye are welcome,” Jenny returned, pleased. “Shall I wait?”
“No. Give me a few minutes.”
Jenny bowed her head and left. The chamber felt larger when the door closed.
Emma moved to the window and pushed the wooden shutters open with care. The air came in clean and settled perfectly on her face. Her eyes scanned the view below.
For some reason, it looked like it reached farther than it had the night she had arrived, when all she could see was stone and wood. From here, she saw the gates, the run of the wall, a strip of clay packed fresh between two courses.
That must be where the battle had taken place. The repairs were evident.
She spotted the path out of the castle and into the woods. Isobel had told her how much she loved the path the previous day, and the view looked nothing short of magical from here.
She thought of her father and wondered how long he would wait to hear from her. She thought of Melody and Aunt Agnes and the letter she had promised to send. She would write today.
Or tomorrow.
Whenever she was able to.
She closed the window and smoothed her skirt, then she turned and headed towards the door, now in a mood to greet the day with joy and smiles. Her hand shook as she reached for the knob, twisted it, and pulled the door open.
Only to see him.
Him.
He was standing on the threshold.
“Christ!”She pulled back half a step, her skirts brushing her shins.
Logan did not move. He stood with one hand tucked behind his back, as if he were not bothered.
“What in God’s name are you doing here?”
He cocked his head. “A lovely morning to ye too, Lady Emma.”
Emma felt her heartbeat steady, before the next words escaped her lips. “How long have you been there?” she asked, and was glad the words sounded like hers.
“Long enough to hear yer steps,” he said. “It seems ye walk a bit lighter when ye are on yer own. Is that a conscious decision?”
Her stomach tightened despite herself, but she ignored his question. “Ye scared me.”
His gaze flicked to the neckline of her dress and down her bodice. The smallest smirk appeared and then went away again. She could almost feel his gaze where it lingered. It bothered her, and she hated that she could not hide it with a laugh.
“Ye look great,” he complimented, his eyes returning to her face.
His scent reached her before he closed another inch. Sandalwood and the faintest hint of soap. It unsettled her because it suggested care she had not expected from him.
“How is your wound?” she asked, in a bid to break the silence.
“Healing. Ye will see nay blood today.”
She let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding. He heard it, and that annoyed her.
“You have yet to answer my question. What are you doing here?”
“I came to give ye the news. The wedding is in two days,” he announced.
She narrowed her eyes. “Is that all?”
