“They are not only words,” she continued. “He is impossible. One moment, he is cold; the next, he is not. I do not like how he treats the castle as if it were a board and everyone else as pieces he can move.”
Isobel ran her hand along the dog’s side, her eyes bright. “And ye told him this?”
“Not like that. Would you mind a walk? I am sorry, but I am too upset to sit still.”
Isobel gently laid the dog on the ground and rose to her feet. “We do not want to have that now, do we?”
Emma stood up as well, and soon, they began to walk along the edge of the yard. The cat craned its head in protest at the change and settled again when she tucked it close. The dog, on the other hand, leaped up at once and trotted after them with its tail wagging.
“It is really confusing,” Emma said. “He looks at me and acts as if he already knows what I will say, then he twists it until I am nodding. I set out to argue, and somehow I am agreeing. That is not fair.”
“Ye married a laird who has spent half his life shouting orders at men on a deck,” Isobel reminded her. “What did ye expect? A man who begs pardon every time he opens his mouth?”
Emma turned on her heel. The dog had come closer than she realized, almost walking into her.
“Watch yourself,” she said, her voice low.
It leapt into the air in response, and Isobel laughed. One of the maids near the well hid a smile behind her hand.
Emma felt the flush in her cheeks deepen.
“This is not amusing,” she protested, jerking her arm back on instinct.
“Of course it is,” Isobel snorted. “Look at ye.”
“I would rather not,” Emma huffed.
She kept moving, but each time she turned, the animals shifted with her. She could feel eyes on her from the edges of the yard. Servants who had seen years of dull mornings stood half hidden in doorways and by barrels, their expression a cross between shock and laughter.
The yard that had once belonged to drills and sword work now held the slow chase of hooves and feathers and an Englishwoman who could not walk off her temper.
Isobel cupped her hand over her mouth. “Careful, me Lady,” she called. “Or else ye will have yer subjects worn out.”
Emma shot her a look. “They are not my subjects.”
“Well, I suppose the goat would argue that,” Isobel relented. “The rest, on the other hand, follow ye well enough. It looks like a proper court to me.”
Emma stopped without meaning to. The dog moved closer and she looked down at it. The cat shifted in her arms and pushed its head under her chin. Its whiskers brushed her throat.
“I am not a queen.” The protest came out quieter.
Isobel’s smile softened. “Oh well, the beasts around ye beg to differ. Ye can look at it this way, though—ye have managed to subdue these beasts without resorting to force. They follow ye around because they trust ye. Do ye ken how hard it is to make cats like ye? Believe me, I have tried, and I ken every well that they are dreadful creatures.”
Emma stared down at the dirt in front of her toes, pondering Isobel’s words. She had started out using these animals as a way to get back at Logan for abandoning her. But now she was beginning to realize that she might have a bigger responsibility,especially since she was growing attached to these creatures with each passing day.
But Logan?—
Even his name made her blood simmer.
“He just makes me so angry,” she huffed. “One moment, I want to throw the nearest object at his head; the next, I—” She clamped her mouth shut.
“The next?” Isobel prompted.
Emma swallowed. The memory of his hands on her flashed through her mind. “The next, he looks at me, and I forget how to be sensible. It feels as if everything narrows to where he is. Then I feel foolish for letting that matter.”
Isobel did not laugh. “You arenae committing any crime by asking for affection. Believe me, I have told him that as well.”
“Well, he makes me feel like I am,” Emma whined. “He acts like he wants me, then the next minute, I feel foolish for having that thought in the first place.”
