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Think on it. Marrying a clan chief, moving to Scotland . . . “I could see Clara often.”

“Aye, you could.”

Emma shook her head. “Alex, I must go.” She smiled, grateful for his concern even though she’d not heed his advice. “Thank you.”

“I care about you, Emma. Enough to have had an interesting discussion with your protector. I believe he—”

Alex stopped since they’d arrived in the great hall, where Garrick stood waiting with Clara.

She took a step toward him and stopped when her legs wobbled.

“Everything is ready, my lady,” he said, indicating they should leave. Now.

Earlish. Very much so.

Trying not to notice the perfect contours of his face, Emma went to Clara and wrapped her arms around her dear friend.

“I love you,” Clara said. “Take care, little sister.”

Though her friend was just a few months her elder, the endearment had stuck.

“Love you back,” she said.

Clara leaned in to whisper in Emma’s ear. “He is quite cute.”

Leave it to her friend to offer that truth even when it was impossibly useless.

“Aye, he is,” she whispered back.

She pretended not to see him as she strode over to Alex, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then marched out into the cold. So grand was her exit that it took a moment for her to realize she’d forgotten—

“Your cloak?”

Garrick came up from behind her with the offending garment in hand. She’d intended to mount and ride all day without speaking a word to him.

Blast it.

She lifted her chin and tried really, really hard not to notice the scent of pine as he reached around her and, not for the first time, covered her against the cold.

“It seems I’ve made a habit of this.”

She would not speak to him. She would not speak to him.

Emma finally looked him in the eyes.

Oh God . . .

“So you’re betrothed, then?”

He finally buckled the clasp and took a step back. Thank heavens. Now if only she could take back her words. She was supposed to act like she did not care.

Emma’s stomach lurched at his expression before he even answered.

“I am.”

* * *

She turned away, but not before he saw the look of deep disappointment on her face. A look he had put there. He watched as she mounted and joined his men, riding away from Dunmure. He eventually did so himself, taking the lead, and ignoring the flakes that had just begun to fall. Another blustery January day.