She reached out and caught his wrist. “Come with me.”
“Where?” he asked, though he knew.
“Yourchamber.”
He resisted for a heartbeat. It felt less like strength than habit.
She tightened her hold and turned, pulling him with her into a longer corridor. The torches around this part of the castle burned lower and steadier, and their shadows on the wall swayed when they walked past.
“What will people say when they see us go into my chambers together?” he murmured.
“That we just got married,” she said, voice as dry as a blade. “I am certain everyone will understand.”
He had no answer. He let her lead.
They passed a guard at the stairs who kept his gaze ahead and only bowed when they were past him. The music behind them faded into a pleasant hum, while the murmurs thinned and stopped.
Emma set a pace that was neither fast nor slow. Her hand stayed on Logan’s wrist until his pulse matched her own.
“You do not get to pull me out of a room and then tell me good night,” she said, without looking up at him. “If you have a thing to say, then it is better to say it now.”
“I already said all I needed,” he muttered. “I daenae like other mentouchingye. ‘Tis very simple.”
“Very simple, huh?” she scoffed. “Ye’re the one who cannae dance, and somehow I’m the one being punished.”
“Nay one is punishing anyone.”
“Good. Because I daenae deserve to be treated like some property because I refused to act like a ghost.”
His laugh was short and devoid of humor. “Ye arenae a ghost. The hall kens that now.”
They reached his door. The wood was dark from years of handling.
Logan stopped with his back to the frame, looking down at her in the steady light. The set of his shoulders had not softened, but the grip under her palm had. She felt the change and did not release him.
“Open it,” she demanded.
He held her gaze for a long beat, then turned the knob. The door swung inward on its old hinges, and the warmth of the room hit her face almost immediately.
The space before her showed the glow of a banked fire and the bench where he kept his boots lined.
He looked once down the corridor, as if to confirm that no one stood at the turn, then back to her. “Ye are sure ye want to walk into a room with me while ye are still angry about this?”
“I know for a fact that I will not sleep if we do not finish this, and I intend to make a few things clear to you, myLaird,” she said, emphasizing the last word.
He nodded once, a small concession. “Then come.”
She stepped past him and into the chamber. He followed and shut the door with a final click that held the room in place. The hall and its whispers stayed on the other side of the wood.
Emma turned to face him with the heat still in her chest and the taste of laughter still on the tip of her tongue. She felt the space shrink to fit only them.
“This was an arrangement,” she began. “You agreed to that.”
“Aye, I agreed. It doesnae mean anyone can put their hands on ye.” His voice was low and even.
The evenness did not make it soft. It set the edge where she could see it.
“I can dance with other men if I want to,” she said, holding his gaze.
