She rolled onto her side and bit the inside of her cheek.
This was an agreement.She had stepped into it with a clear head. She had listened to his words, weighed her options, and chosen this life. She had wanted safety. She had wanted a name that could stand up in a drawing room. She had not demanded shared plans or warm hands over breakfast.
You cannot claim what you never set as a condition.
She had agreed that they might live as they pleased with no complaints from either of them. So where did this blooming ache in her chest come from, and why couldn’t she stop thinking about what life would be like if things were different?
If he truly loved her?
She let out a harsh breath and sat up. The room held the thin light of the morning, and the coals in the fireplace cracked rather weakly. Her head felt strange, as if some part of her had stopped arguing and decided to act instead.
If he meant to leave, he would. She could not tie him to a chair. She could choose not to sit and wait in a room that felt smaller every time he walked out of it. But that would clearly be to her disadvantage only. The only time he cared about her was when she was changing his castle.
As the morning light grew brighter, she pushed herself out of bed and went to take a bath.
She dressed without much care for what she put on, her fingers moving quickly over her laces and ties. When Jenny came in with a cheeky morning voice and a bright “Good morning, me Lady,” she answered with only a nod.
There was nothing good about the morning anyway.
Outside her door, the hallway held the silence of early work. Emma watched the brooms move and buckets knock softly against knees. She walked toward the breakfast room, smoothing her dress out of habit more than vanity. She had almost reached the archway when a sound cut across the usual morning noise—a low, unsettled squawk.
She stepped onto the threshold and stopped, the sight grounding her to a halt.
They were taking the animals out.
Two men were leading the calf to the main doors, one on either side of its head. It dug in its hooves, puzzled, eyes darting around the hall as if looking for its usual corner. The chicken pecked at a maid’s ankles, wings half spread, squawking as she tried to catch it.
Emma’s chest tightened so fast it felt like a blow.
Herfarm, as Logan had called it, was being pulled apart piece by piece.
She stepped further inside. “What are you doing?”
The nearest servant, a kitchen maid Emma recognized from the previous morning, jumped. “Me Lady,” she said, ducking her head. “We… The Laird gave orders.”
“What orders?” Emma asked.
“The beasts are to be kept outside,” the maid replied quickly. “Pens only. The hall is to be cleared. He said the castle must be put back to proper order.”
The words landed without surprise and still managed to sting.
Proper order.
Emma felt heat rise under her skin. For a man who would not spend the next full day in the castle, he seemed to have a great idea of what proper order looked like.
From outside, she could see what this looked like. An English lady arrived and filled the hall with creatures. The Laird came home, said one word, and it all disappeared. Her changes folded up like children’s things when parents called for dinner.
She hated that thought, and she hated the fact that she couldn’t do anything about it even more. The calf, which was now halfway through the courtyard, let out a soft, uneasy sound that tugged at a place in her heart she had not intended to expose.
“Can you handle Margaret gently? She is not stubborn. Please!” she screamed at the guards dragging the calf.
They looked at each other, confusion flashing across their faces.
Emma raised her hands, wondering if she had spoken in a different language. “Be careful with the calf!”
The guards nodded and went their way.
Her throat tightened as something small moved at the edge of her vision. Near the long table, the cat had its front paws hooked into a wicker basket, belly pressed low, trying not to be lifted. One of the maids had her hand under its middle, as gentle as she could be while still following instructions.
