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As they made their way across the cobbled pathway toward Clave Castle, Emma continued to point out evidence of the sea water that had swept through the area just a short time earlier. She reached down to give Nella a bit of encouragement.

“Seaweed. So very fascinating.” He grinned down at her from his taller steed.

“Mock all you like, brother. But have you ever seen anything like it?”

Despite his casual tone, Geoffrey looked around them with an expression so similar to her twin’s that Emma couldn’t resist smiling. She knew what it meant without asking—Geoffrey was impressed by what he saw.

“You look so much like Neill right now.”

They’d reached the shoreline, or where the shoreline would soon appear, and began to climb up toward the gatehouse.

“Is that right?”

“Aye. Or at least you look like the carefree boy Neill was, and less like the big brother who fought so hard to keep our family safe.”

“That is all I’ve ever wanted to do, Em.”

Despite his occasional high-handedness, Geoffrey really did care about keeping her from harm’s way. If he was a mite overprotective since their parents’ death, she could hardly blame him.

And her twin was no longer the sweet boy she remembered. His reputation continued to grow at the tournaments she could never attend.

“I miss him,” she said, knowing there was naught Geoffrey could do about it.

“As do I,” he said. “But he promised to visit this summer.”

Emma hadn’t seen him since his accolade, and now that he was officially a knight, she feared he was falling prey to the “tourney call,” as Geoffrey called it. But he was always quick to remind her that he and Bryce had both done it and lived to tell the tale. Seeking validation and glory from one tourney to the next, each win sweeter than the last. But she remembered the wounds they’d suffered, the scares they’d given her mother and then, after Bristol was taken, their aunt, every time they left to compete.

Emma tried not to think on it. Instead, she concentrated on the circular stone structure that rose above them. Garrick was somewhere inside there. She would finally get to see him again.

She’d hardly slept the night before. After waking early to ensure Geoffrey would not leave without her, Emma had donned her favorite gown, a pale blue one that matched her eyes. Sara had visited her in her chamber, and her behavior had made Emma wonder, if only for a moment, if she knew the truth. Sara had looked at her oddly, opened her mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again.

“Beautiful,” she’d finally said.

Edith had accompanied the group, and just a few hours in the saddle had reminded them all why Emma had ended up traveling to Scotland unaccompanied. For a marshal’s daughter, Edith really wasn’t a passable horsewoman.

In fact . . .

“Geoffrey, I don’t believe Edith will make it up there.”

The incline to the main gate, halfway up to the castle itself, was a steep one. The keep was, quite literally, built from the rocks that surrounded it.

They dismounted just as a man on horseback came down to meet them. Emma pulled her hood forward, trying to keep the wind from whipping into her face. The breeze rendered a cold day freezing.

Assuming it was the steward, Emma turned to find Edith being helped off her mount.

She took a few steps back to talk to her friend, dragging Nella’s reins with her. “How could we have possibly imagined you’d be able to make it across the border?” she teased.

Edith stood up straight, as if to contradict Emma’s words.

“I’m just fine, my lady. I—” Edith looked over Emma’s shoulder. “Oh yes, I can see what you mean now. He is quite a bit more handsome than I remembered,” she whispered.

Part of Emma had already known it was him. She could feel him behind her, and the pull that had always existed between them compelled her to turn.

Garrick looked at her in a way he most certainly shouldn’t. It was a good thing her face was partially hidden by her hood.

The hair on his face slightly grown, his jaw set, Garrick exuded power. Dominance.

Desire.