“The bath…” Jenny said, startled and pleased. “Aye. If ye like.”
They wrapped shawls around themselves and left the chamber.
The morning put a pale color on the stones in the hallway, and outside, the air smelled clean, and the ground still held the cold of the previous night.
Jenny led her toward the lower path where the sun reached first, then touched plants as she spoke, naming each one as she pointed. Emma listened as attentively as she could, without letting her thoughts drift to what had happened the previous night just yards away from where they stood.
“That is willow,” Jenny explained. “Its bark is good for pain. Ye shave it thin and dry it, then steep it. This is yarrow. Good for stopping bleeding if ye can get there fast enough. Plantain leaves for stings. Nettle for soup if ye ken how to handle it without burning yer hands.”
Emma listened, finding the rhythm of knowing things with one’s hands soothing. “A maid who is a healer is very convenient.”
Jenny laughed. “Convenient is one word to describe it. Lady Isobel thinks I am bossy when I treat the wounded.”
Emma laughed as they walked further. The trees opened onto a small clearing, and she recognized the line of trunks and the angle of the path as surely as if she had drawn them.
The memory rose to the surface, unbidden.
The kiss.
Logan’s hands steady on her waist.
The heat that had coiled in her belly.
Her pulse quickened. Heated thoughts flooded her mind, and the longer she stood here, the less control she had over them.
“We should go back,” she said, too quickly. “I need the bath, after all.”
“Aye,” Jenny said.
She did not ask why. She steered her toward the castle at once, choosing the path that climbed more gently.
Emma kept pace and looked ahead. She couldn’t bear to glance back and dredge up the memories again. Logan had made it clear that this was nothing but an arrangement. She refused to be seen as the weak party for letting her feelings cloud her judgment.
Back in the chamber, Jenny worked without a fuss.
The bath steadied Emma, and soon, she dressed in a clean gown, hair pinned in a way that would invite a veil later.
“Is it nae exciting that ye will be getting married later this afternoon?” Jenny asked, voice high-pitched with enthusiasm.
“Yes,” Emma responded, failing to match her tone. “Exciting.”
Later that morning, when she stepped into the breakfast room, the world tilted for a heartbeat and then righted. A face so familiar she thought she was dreaming sat behind the table, right across from Isobel.
“Melody?” she called, her voice shaky.
Melody rose to her feet, and only then did Emma see that she had come with her husband, Callum.
“Mel.” The word came out like a breath held too long.
Relief broke in a wave that left her feeling lighter.
Melody hurried to her and wrapped her up in both arms.“You clever creature,” she said against Emma’s cheek. “You should know I never doubted you for one second.”
Emma laughed and stepped back. “What are you doing here?”
Melody blinked. “You did not really think I would miss your wedding, did you?”
Emma laughed, still in disbelief. The last thing she had expected was for Melody to come when she wrote that letter. “How did you even find the castle?”
