Suddenly, the pieces started to fall into place. Isobel’s silence when the subject of Logan’s childhood came up. The way the older men watched him with uneasy respect. The tension that had lingered in the hall even at the wedding feast.
“So when you say everyone’s value is equal,” she said, “you mean theirs and ours.”
“I mean, I willnae forget who held out a hand when I was drowning and who looked away. Me braithers at sea didnae look away.”
Emma wanted to speak, but the words simply did not leave her mouth.
His eyes flashed anyway. “It doesnae matter now. It is done. We will speak of it another time.”
There it was.Later.Another time.
“Is that why you are running off again?” she asked. “Back to the sea because land still feels like the place that let you go?”
He did not answer. His gaze slid away for the first time.
“One last trip,” he murmured. “In the morning after tomorrow. I told ye. We need money and a way for the clan to prosper. That is what I’m seeking. Ye will be surprised to learn that the former Laird left almost nothing. I will find what needs to be found. Then I will stay.”
Her fingers dug into the edge of the desk, and fear pressed in from all sides. The image of herself here, married on paper, left behind while he took his wound and his loyalty back to the only life that felt sure in his hands.
Suddenly, it all felt very sharp.
She had thought marriage would be something solid to stand on. At that moment, it felt like thin strips of wood from a drop she could not see. She was married to a man she was uncertain about, and that made her feel incredibly uncomfortable.
The silence lingered between them, and Emma felt it at the back of her neck. He did not move. She could feel his eyes on her hands where they rested on the carved edge of his desk. Earlier, she had clutched it. Now, she flattened her fingers and lifted them away.
When he spoke at last, his voice was almost calm. The question was not. “Will ye play any more games with me?”
There it was. The test.
Emma drew a slow breath. Her stays bit into her ribs where Jenny had pulled them tight. She held on to that small pinch like an anchor.
She lifted her chin. “No. No more games.”
He did not look like he believed her. The furrow between his eyebrows deepened. She had raged and snapped at him for the last hour. Of course, a neat answer would never be enough. So she added what she had learned in London.
A smile.
The one she had used with Aunt Agnes.
Polite.
Pleasant.
Empty.
“I will be the wife you wanted,” she said. “No trouble. No chaos. No backtalk. You may have your voyages and your silence. I will follow your rules.” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, smooth as glass.
“Is that what ye think I wanted?” he asked.
“It is what you asked for. Obedience in public. Gratitude in private. I listened.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Then I should be at peace.”
“You should.”
The coals popped softly. Somewhere beyond the door, a latch clicked, then another. The castle seemed to go on without them.
“I have never been more worried in me life,” he admitted.
