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She would not be waylaid. “But as I wrote, I simply had to know. And most of the journey was on Caiser land. I—”

“Could have gotten killed.”

Sara leveled a sharp glance at Geoffrey, trying to silence him, but this was not her fight.

“Geoffrey,” Emma said, trying not to raise her voice. “Not now.”

“Go ahead, Emma,” Sara encouraged her.

She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t say the words aloud. It was over. Had Garrick truly intended to fight for her, he would already have done so. He’d waited for a reason. And for those same reasons, she had to let him go.

“I’m not hungry,” she said, turning away. They called her name, but she didn’t care. She walked briskly, heading out of the hall and through the corridors. She just couldn’t make herself tell them all. She’d been so stupid. To think he would forsake everything . . . for her? Who was she to ask such a thing of him?

“Emma, wait!”

She wanted to keep running, but Geoffrey would only follow her anyway. So she stopped and turned. But he didn’t censure her or continue to lecture her.

Instead, her brother opened his arms and she went to him. Her eyes filled with tears as he wrapped his strong arms around her and patted her back. “The pain will go away.”

She didn’t believe him but didn’t wish to argue the point either.

“Shh,” he said. Emma allowed the tears to flow then.

For Garrick. For her parents. For everything.

“I know, Emma. I know.”

She shook her head against his chest.

“Aye, I do. When I thought I’d lost Sara for good . . .”

Emma sniffled.

“Love can be as harsh as it is beautiful.”

Despite herself, Emma giggled.

“What is so amusing?”

She pulled back to look at the face that was so similar to her own. Well, at least his eyes. And hair. She wouldn’t want to look like the rest of him, big brute that he was.

“The Geoffrey I was raised with would never have uttered such a thing,” she said.

He didn’t appear overly concerned. “Maybe I’m not that same man.”

Most certainly he was not, and thank goodness for it.

“But neither are you the same girl who amused herself by bringing roosters into the hall or hiding frogs in her brother’s bedchamber.”

Oh, Neill had been so mad.

“I’m sorry, Emma.”

“Sorry? Whatever for?” And why was he not lecturing her?

“You’re a grown woman, capable of falling in love. Marrying. Having children. And yet, when I look at you, I still see a girl. I can hear Father admonishing me to keep you safe.”

“He was a mite overprotective.”