A part of her wondered what Melody might say about it if she were here.
By the time she reached Logan’s study, night had fallen. Her palms were clammy as she walked. It was only a dress, and a meeting. But it felt like more.
She stopped in the doorway and cleared her throat, causing him to look up from his desk. “So… what do you think?” she asked.
She stepped inside and, because she had promised herself she would stop creeping round him like a ghost, she turned slowly so the skirt flared around her legs. The bodice held her straight, and the laces crossed firmly over her front. Even her new leather boots made her feel anchored.
She gathered her skirt and bobbed a quick, theatrical curtsy.
“Well,” she drawled, “do I lookbonnyornae?”
For a moment, Logan only stared at her. She watched as his hand went still on the parchment. His lips parted a little, and the usual mask on his face cracked. His throat bobbed as heswallowed hard, and something between admiration and hunger flashed across his face.
She had seen that hunger before. It was the same look he had on his face when he punished her for redecorating his room.
He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “It will do.”
Emma’s lips curved. “That is all?” she asked. “After all this effort,it will do?”
His gaze ran over her again, slower now. “If I start praising ye, ye will become unbearable.”
“I am already unbearable,” she pointed out. “You tell me often enough. One more kind word will not bring the roof down.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he looked away, reaching for his coat. She tucked that small victory away.
They left the study together and walked toward the stables. The night air was cold and clean, and stars dotted the sky above. The smell of hay and horse met them as they drew near the open doors.
Emma’s eye caught the row of planks laid over the shallow run by the wall. They were set firm now. No wobble when a stablehand led a horse across.
“David told me a random man fixed that,” she said, nodding toward it. “It was loose before. Dangerous. I am glad someone noticed.”
Logan’s shoulders shifted, a small tightening and easing.
“A random man,” he repeated.
“Yes.” She smiled. “I should like to thank him. It would be a poor joke to break a leg there. Or a goat’s skull.”
He stepped ahead to offer his hand as she mounted. His grip was strong, warm through her glove.
“Aye,” he said dryly. “If only ye could find him.”
Emma laughed, missing the weight in his tone. “Perhaps he will appear the way my animals do—whenever I am not looking.”
Logan swung himself into the saddle behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of him along her back. One hand came forward to take the reins, the other steady on her hip. His breath brushed her temple, smelling of soap, smoke, and a hint of wine.
The horse moved off under his light command, its hooves soft on the earth as they left the yard. The castle dropped behind them, a silhouette of dark stone pricked with candlelight.
Emma sat tall, hands folded in her lap to stop them from trembling. However, her heart beat too fast for that. The darkness ahead held men she had never met and a part of Logan she knew only in ragged pieces. But at least she was not staring at a doorway while he walked through it alone.
She was about to share the next adventure with him.And a part of her wondered if she would like what lay ahead.
27
The road narrowed as they veered off the main path. Wet grass slapped Emma’s boots, and ahead, a squat building sat in the dark, lamplight leaking around the walls.The feel of Logan’s body settled gently behind her, like a presence she could not shake off.
“So, as I said earlier, there are people I would like ye to meet,” he said. “Men who sailed with me long before I became Laird.”
Emma eyed the tavern. The roof dipped in the middle, and a sign swung on a single iron hook, creaking with every sway. There was no cottage or village anywhere nearby. All she could see was open ground, a few tired horses, one cart, and a heavy strip of dark sky.
