Chapter 15

15

E mily made her way to the library to find Freya.

She was too nervous to use the passages that Theo had shown her, worried that she would be lost forever in the bowels of the castle—but it was useful to know they were there.

The library was enormous. The ceilings arched above her head, with wood paneling covering every wall. A balcony with a metal rail ran along the top shelves, and there were hundreds of nooks and crannies where one could lose oneself in a book.

Emily frowned. She had discovered where Freya should be, but it might still take several hours to find her amongst this many shelves.

However, as the door closed behind her, a face appeared on the top balcony, and Freya smiled down at her.

"Dinnae ye look bonnie," she said, walking down the spiral staircase, holding a few books under her arm.

Emily looked down at the midnight blue dress. It was by far the finest gown she had ever owned.

Freya walked toward her, pushing her unruly hair back and over her shoulder. It was incredibly thick, curling down to her waist. She looked particularly endearing with her spectacles perched on her nose as she grinned at Emily.

"Is that a new dress?" she asked.

"Aye. I think yer braither was sick of seein' me trippin' all over the castle."

Freya looked surprised and ran her eyes over Emily again, looking thoughtful. "Adam bought it for ye?"

Emily nodded. "He probably thought I needed to look more like the Lady of the castle."

Freya's eyes met hers thoughtfully, but she didn't say more on the subject. "How do ye like the library?" she asked, spinning in place with a grin.

"It's beautiful!" Emily replied, looking up and around her at the books on display. There were so many different shapes and sizes that she could barely take it all in. "There must be thousands of books in here."

"I am plannin' to read them all by the time I die," Freya said, spreading her arms out wide, looking wistfully about her as though she were in paradise.

Emily laughed. "I think that might take more than one lifetime."

"No one else will read them." Freya's voice was sad. "I have rarely seen another soul in here."

Emily raised her eyebrows. The library at Wilkinson Castle was half the size of this one, but her father spent a lot of time in it. He had always instilled in her a desire to read and educate herself, and she was very grateful for that.

"Come, I want to show ye somethin'," Freya said, beckoning her to follow.

Emily walked behind her, the fiery mass of hair down Freya's back a vibrant contrast to the dark shelves they passed.

They turned to the right at the end of the room, and Emily found herself in front of a tall window that almost touched the floor. It offered a beautiful view of the sea, with seagulls wheeling below them. She could hear the waves crashing on the rocks.

Freya turned with a sly grin and lowered herself into a multitude of cushions on the floor. She rested against the shelves like a queen among her subjects, and Emily grinned.

"Did ye build this?" she asked.

The pillows and cushions reminded her of the forts she and Bruce would make as children. Books tumbled from every corner.

"I did. It is me favorite place in the whole castle."

"I can see why."

"Do ye have a library at home?" Freya asked eagerly.

"I do, but it isnae as grand as this one. Wilkinson Castle's keep is half the size of this one—me faither focused on defenses, so the main building is smaller."

"Ye can use this library whenever ye like," Freya replied enthusiastically.

Emily gave her a sad smile. It was unlikely she would ever be able to take her up on that offer.

"Do ye have braithers and sisters?" Freya asked.

"Aye, one braither. He is a nuisance, but I love him."

"Laura is the same," Freya said fondly. "I adore her, but she is a flighty thing, always plannin' her next great adventure. I am much happier curled up with a book."

Emily's heart ached at the thought of her family. Despite knowing that Adam had informed her brother and father that she was safe, it still hurt to speak of them.

Freya seemed to recognize her discomfort and shifted forward, searching for something in the piles all around her.

"Have ye ever read Gulliver's Travels?" she asked animatedly, letting out a small cry of pleasure as she found what she was looking for and handed Emily a small leather-bound book.

"I havenae," Emily confessed. "Is he an explorer?" she asked, looking at the ship at anchor that had been embossed on the cover.

"Of sorts—he goes to a place where there are tiny little people everywhere. It is the best book I have read this year."

"Tiny little people?"

"Lilliputians. Ye should read it. It's very funny."

"I will," Emily said, skimming over the first page.

Freya beamed at her. "I am glad me braither brought ye here. I dinnae have many people to speak to in the castle."

Emily paused. She wasn't sure how much Freya knew about Adam's plans, but she was desperate to talk to someone about the wedding. It felt like breaking Adam's trust to continue, but she was burning to ask her next question.

"Do ye ken what he is plannin'?" she said, eventually.

Freya's gaze turned serious. "I ken he wants to hold a weddin' to draw James out."

Emily let out a relieved breath. "I doubt it'll take place." But even as she spoke the words, a strange sensation washed over her. It felt like disappointment. "He expects James to attack on the day of the weddin'," she continued. "When he arrives, yer braither will kill him. Once it's over, I can go home, and Laura can return to ye."

Freya sighed, looking out at the sea. "That is hardly fair to ye."

"I wouldnae have chosen it, but I want to save me family. This will ensure they're safe."

"That is all I want, too. I just hope Laura is alright. We have never been separated for so long, and she is a stubborn fool."

"Her letter said she was safe," Emily insisted.

"Aye, but she wouldnae say if she wasnae. Heaven kens where she is. She hasnae any money or means to travel."

"All the more reason for us to hold the weddin' as soon as we can, then."

"And what if the weddin' takes place?" Freya asked thoughtfully. "If Stewart doesnae attack and ye end up really married, would ye mind stayin' here with us? I willnae lie, it would be nice to have ye here."

"Freya."

Freya jumped to her feet at the sharp voice. Emily turned to find Lady MacNiall behind them, fixing her daughter with a glare.

Freya brushed down her skirts, looking guiltily at the piles of cushions around her. Clearly, her mother was unaware of the little den she had created for herself.

"Maither!" she squeaked. "I didnae hear ye come in."

"Evidently." Lady MacNiall's eyes raked over Emily, and she frowned as she took in the new dress. Pressing her lips together, she met Emily's gaze and sniffed primly, stepping back from her. "I wish to speak with ye, Lady Emily, if ye arenae otherwise engaged."

Her voice dripped with accusation. Emily could well imagine how they looked, huddled together in the library as though they were plotting together.

Freya's sweetness and enthusiasm had captured her attention and provided a much-needed distraction from her worries. They all came flooding back with the presence of Adam's mother.

Emily handed the book back to Freya, before following Lady MacNiall without another word.

She was led through the library and back out into the corridors. She struggled to keep up with Lady MacNiall's long strides as they moved through a side passage and into a small antechamber by a large oak door.

Lady MacNiall walked through it without delay, and Emily followed.

She entered what could only be the chambers of the Lady of the castle. It was a magnificent room, with a large bathtub on one side and long hanging curtains of brushed gold around the bed. The wood in the room was dark in color, setting off the brightness of the gold accents on the furniture.

It looks like a princess's bedroom. Perhaps that is how Lady MacNiall sees herself.

Lady MacNiall was watching her with narrowed eyes, so Emily came to a stop and waited for her to speak. She must have been brought here for a reason.

"Will there be anythin' ye want to change before ye move into these chambers after the weddin'?" Lady MacNiall asked stiffly.

Emily looked around her again, astonished that this room would be offered so willingly.

"Nay," she said after a short pause. "There is nothin' I would change."

Lady MacNiall's spine stiffened considerably.

"Because I willnae use this room," Emily continued. "I have nay desire to force ye out of yer chambers, M'Lady."

Lady MacNiall's eyes widened, but her shoulders relaxed just a fraction. "Ye will be the Lady of the castle," she replied dismissively. "Do ye nae intend to take up yer duties?"

"On the contrary. I intend to do whatever is needed, but that doesnae mean we cannae share the castle. I have nay wish to push ye out of everythin' ye ken."

Lady MacNiall was fidgeting with her skirts awkwardly, and she walked to the fireplace, looking around her with an expression that was hard to read.

"I confess I havenae used these rooms since me husband's death," she said softly. "It willnae be an inconvenience to me if ye wish to use them. They are for the Lady of the clan, after all."

"Do ye think it will come to that?" Emily asked curiously.

"I dinnae ken. Me son is an impatient man. He doesnae have the luxury of waitin' to see what will come of us all."

The two women fell silent for so long that it became uncomfortable. Emily desperately tried to think of something to say, but Lady MacNiall seemed contemplative. Her gaze was fixed on the flames as they leaped up toward the chimney.

"Me son will need a patient partner at his side," she stated finally. Her voice sounded hollow. "Is that somethin' ye can do? I ken he vexes ye. He has always been a headstrong boy."

Emily was all too aware of the complex relationship between Adam and his mother. She had only spent a short time in their company, but they certainly did not see eye to eye on many things. All the same, she knew there was a lot of love between them, despite their differences.

"I'll do right by him if that's what ye're askin'. It is a much better fate than the one I would have faced without his intervention."

Lady MacNiall's expression sharpened. "And what was that?"

"Do ye ken how I came to be betrothed to James Stewart?"

Lady MacNiall turned away from the fire, and it was as though the older woman saw Emily for the first time at that moment. Her eyes became interested, her mouth losing the harsh line Emily had grown accustomed to.

"Nay," she said slowly. "How did that come about?"

"I refused to dance with him," Emily said bitterly, the injustice of it hitting her all over again.

Lady MacNiall scoffed, her jaw working, a vein throbbing in her temple. "The arrogance of men, " she spat.

"He asked me at a ceilidh, and I refused him. I kenned his reputation. I had nay desire to encourage him, but he wouldnae take nay for an answer. When I refused for the final time, he threatened to destroy me clan and kill me family if I didnae marry him."

Lady MacNiall stared at her in shock, all signs of her previous contempt fading away. "Did he follow through on his threat?" she whispered.

"Laird MacNiall said that he hasnae. He has sent word to me faither. But they are still in danger until Stewart is dead. I am just as eager as ye are to finish this business, M'Lady."

"Well then…" Lady MacNiall cleared her throat. "I suppose it is a good thing that me son found ye."

She walked to the wardrobe in the corner of the room and opened it, pulling out a dress from inside. It was burgundy in color, with faint images of the lion from their clan crest across the folds of the skirt.

"This is me weddin' dress," she said, holding it out to Emily.

The dress trailed across the floor, sumptuous and beautiful. It should have been a lovely moment to be gifted such an heirloom, but Emily felt a rush of panic at the sight of it.

This is really happenin'. I am goin' to walk down the aisle again in a matter of days.

Emily laid trembling fingers on the fabric and shuddered as she looked it over. It was a stunning gown, but the reality of what would happen when she wore it suddenly sank in.

"I think ye should be able to make some amendments to it in time," Lady MacNiall continued, her eyes running over the long train. "Ye can wear it at yer weddin' just as I did, and me maither did."

Emily forced a smile as her mind became a whirlwind of half-formed fears. She ran a hand over the fabric, then dropped it back to her side, trying to keep the worry she felt from showing on her face.

"Thank ye, Lady MacNiall. It is beautiful, and I'd be honored to wear it. Thank ye for givin' me these rooms as well. Who kens what will come of the weddin', but if nothin' else, I hope that ye can get yer family back together again."

Lady MacNiall's eyes softened, and she nodded. "I'll see to the arrangements meself," she replied.

Her gaze fell on the dress once more, and a look of such sorrow contorted her features that Emily almost stepped forward to comfort her. She could not imagine what Lady MacNiall had been through after the loss of her husband.

There had been love between them, that was clear. She wondered if the wedding dress brought back bad memories.

How did their marriage come about ? Perhaps they were betrothed to one another, and love grew over time.

She closed her eyes in despair.

That would not be the case with Adam. He had made it clear that he didn't need a wife and that they would hardly see each other, let alone fall in love.

All Adam wanted was to have his sister back and return to how things had been before.

Emily stepped away from Lady MacNiall, a weight in the pit of her stomach as she realized the true nature of the future laid out before her.

"I should rest," she insisted. "Thank ye for showin' me these," she finished weakly and then walked out of the room as quickly as she could.

She wasn't sure where she was headed, but she could feel the panic building within her.

I need air . I have to get out of here.