No.
Emma crossed the hall and reached for the cat. Its body was warm and tense as she drew it against her. Tiny claws caught in the fabric of her gown, and its heart fluttered against her palm.
“This one stays,” she declared.
The maid’s eyes went round. “Me Lady, the Laird said that all the?—”
“I heard him,” Emma cut her off, her voice level. “I have made a change. This onestays.”
The maid glanced past her, as if measuring the distance to the door and to Logan’s temper. “I daenae ken if I am allowed,” she whispered.
Emma adjusted her hold on the cat. It tucked its head under her chin as if it had decided the matter for itself.
“I am Lady MacLellan,” she said. “If there is trouble, it will come to me. Take the others where they are meant to go. This one is mine.”
The maid swallowed, nodded, and turned back to the scattered feathers and flapping wings. The small procession toward the doors started again, and Emma watched the last of the animals left the room.
Her eyes burned, but she blinked back her tears.
So, her husband wanted the hall the way he remembered it. Bare wall, long tables, no disturbance.
She rubbed one finger over the cat’s head. It settled and started purring.
“If he runs this place like a ship,” she said quietly into its fur, “I will make it feel like somewhere people live.”
The words steadied her as she lifted her head and turned away from the doors.
Out in the corridor, two footmen were carrying a stack of folded linen toward the guest rooms. At the sight of her, they straightened, uncertain whether to stop or keep moving.
“You,” she said. “Both of you. Come here.”
They came at once. One of them was the same man who had helped her with the calf earlier that week. His gaze darted to the cat and then back up.
“I want to redecorate,” Emma declared. “The hall. These corridors. My chamber. The stone swallows every bit of light we have.”
They exchanged a look over the linen.
“Do ye want us to hang cloths, me Lady?” the taller man ventured. “Or… paint the walls?”
“Cloths to begin with,” she said. “See what we have in the storerooms. I want color on the walls. Lilac along the far side of the hall. A soft green near the windows. The rooms should look used, not stored for some children that are not even here yet.”
The shorter man shifted his weight. “I daenae ken what the Laird will say.”
“The Laird will hear it from me,” she assured him. “Not from you.” She shifted the cat to her other arm. Its tail thumpedagainst her wrist. “I will also be moving some chests. You can help when you are finished with those.”
They both nodded, wary but also grateful to have been given clear work.
“Aye, me Lady,” the taller man said.
Emma dismissed them with a wave, then turned toward the stairs. The cat’s claws had snagged a loose thread and refused to let go. She did not try to free it.
Logan could keep his study as he pleased. He could stand on his deck with nothing around him but sky and water and his own orders.
She would see to the rooms he did not think about. If he wanted to treat their marriage like a map, she would leave her mark on every place she could lay her hands on.
She tightened her arm around the small, warm weight and climbed.
You want to play, Logan?Then we will play.
