Chapter 26

26

E mily stared out into the night and shivered.

It had not occurred to her until now that tomorrow was their wedding day. There was a part of her that hoped James would show up, that he would be killed, and that she could go home. Then, the other part, a darker, deeper part, wanted the wedding to take place and for her to be tied to Adam forever.

She walked to her desk and picked up Ceana's letter. She had not yet written a reply, and perhaps she wouldn't wait for Adam's permission to post it, after all.

I may be goin' home tomorrow.

The knowledge brought mixed emotions.

Lowering the letter, she went to her wardrobe and opened the creaking door. Inside hung her wedding dress.

Lady MacNiall had been true to her word—the dress had been altered and taken in. Emily took it out, laid it out on the bed, and ran her hands over the dark red fabric.

Frowning, she picked it up and took it to the mirror, holding it in front of her and trying to picture herself walking into the kirk.

What would Adam think when she arrived? Would he think she looked good?

Does he care?

He had forbidden her to leave the castle without him today, and the demand had infuriated her. It was only when she had reached her room that she realized how foolish her actions that day had been.

In truth, she had not thought of James at all when she had gone with Lucas. Adam was right—she could have been in great danger if James had followed her. She did not know what she would have done if he had turned up and forced her to leave with him.

A shiver ran through her. She had already been kidnapped during one wedding. What if Adam's plan failed, and he was unable to protect her?

Nerves began to multiply, and she threw the dress onto a chair, ran her fingers through her hair, and began to pace.

What is to become of me? Me faither and me braither willnae be here tomorrow, and me intended doesnae even want to marry me.

Her stomach growled loudly, and she glanced at the door. Perhaps she could go to the kitchens and find some food.

When the time came for supper, she refused to eat with the family again. She hadn't wanted to face more disapproval from Adam's mother for what she had done. But that had meant that she had barely eaten anything all day, save for Mrs. Young's cake several hours ago.

She tiptoed to the door and opened it.

The corridor was dark and empty, and she saw no sign of anyone. She considered trying to escape again, but she knew it would be foolish—Adam would only find her. Her stomach growled, and after another glance down the pitch-black corridor, shewent back into her room.

Grabbing the candelabra from her bedside table, she returned to the corridor. The flickering light cast shadows over the wall, but it triggered excitement rather than fear. Often in her youth, she had wandered the halls of Wilkinson Castle, wondering what she might find lurking in the darkness.

She thought of the dragon Freya had spoken of in the underground passageways.

A bit of exploration will certainly make me tired.

When she opened the door to the rear passage, she expected to find it dark, but the torches were still burning. A servant must go back there frequently to keep them alight.

She looked behind her at the large portrait of Adam on the wall, staring at his dark gaze. Then she walked into the passage and closed the door behind her.

Bringing the candelabra turned out to have been quite pointless, for when she shut the door, the violent draft snuffed out the flames. She sighed, placed it on the floor at her feet, and walked down the passage.

She had decided to explore tonight. She did not feel tired at all, and it might be diverting to find out where all of the doors led.

The servants must use them too, for one door led to the laundry, and another led to the armory.

Eventually, to her surprise, the passage began to slope down. Intrigued, she continued on her path, expecting to find a monster around every corner, but instead, she came upon a ladder.

As she reached it, there was a perfectly circular hole above her head, calling to her to look inside.

Well, I have come this far…

She climbed the ladder, her feet slipping on each cold rung as she reached the top. It appeared to be a trapdoor, and she pushed it open with all her strength, delighted to find herself in the castle pantry.

She climbed out, looking around her for any servants who might be lurking, but all was quiet. The room was piled high with food—wrapped cakes and preserves as well as endless loaves of bread.

She pushed the trapdoor closed behind her, but as she lowered it, it slipped out of her hands and fell back into place with a clang.

There was a clatter from the adjoining room, and Emily held her breath as the door burst open. She yelped as a man with a knife burst into the room.

But it was Adam. He looked gigantic in the doorway, breathing heavily, ready to slay whoever had dared enter his kingdom. He had a dirk in his hand, his hair wild.

"Emily," he said, swallowing his food and putting the knife swiftly away. "I thought ye were raiders come to kill us all."

Emily relaxed, her heart still hammering in her chest.

"However did ye find yerself here?" he asked and then looked down at the trapdoor. "Damn Theo."

"I was hungry."

"Ye might have called for a servant."

"And I couldnae sleep. I thought I would come down and see if I could get some food. What are ye doin' here?"

He stood back, and she saw beyond him a plate on the wide kitchen table and a glass of milk beside it.

She walked into the vast kitchen. It was cold inside, the fires of the ovens long burned out. She jumped as she felt something heavy being placed around her shoulders—Adam's jacket.

"Ye're cold," he said gruffly. "Come, I'll get ye some food."

He bustled about the room, gathering some butter and a few slices of bread. Emily couldn't fight a smile, as he looked so domesticated. She would have preferred some bannocks, but she didn't argue. After the day's argument and after their intense night in the woods, this tenderness felt good.

Adam looked absurd in the kitchen. His shoulders were so wide that he had to hunch forward to reach into any of the cupboards. The plates and knives looked like children's playthings in his giant hands. Emily found herself focusing on those long fingers, remembering how they had felt inside her body.

She stood watching him awkwardly, wondering if he wanted her to join him or not. He returned with a plateful of bread and cheese and some bannocks on the side. She took the plate, grateful for his attention but still mindful of his words to her earlier that night.

"Thank ye, but I cannae stay. I left me room without permission. I suppose I should return before yer guards come to find me."

She turned to leave, but at his sigh, she glanced back.

"Please stay." He sounded weary. "We must be able to eat together without fightin'."

His gaze on hers was almost hopeful. The plate was heavy, and she knew she could never hope to get back down that ladder while carrying it. There was something nice about the quiet kitchen, too. It was inviting, his presence familiar and comforting.

She was used to spending her time and energy taking care of others, whether it was for her family or her clan. It was nice, in the darkness of the room, to feel cared for, and to have someone else make her decisions for her.

She pulled his jacket tighter around her shoulders and nodded. He glanced up at her briefly as he took his seat, but then returned to eating his food. She did the same, and they fell into an awkward silence for a long time.

"Who built the passageways?" she asked.

Adam gave a crooked smile. "Me great grandfaither," he said. "Quite mad, he was."

"How so?"

"Och, he thought there were goblins and trolls livin' under the foundations of the castle. He decided to build the tunnels to ensure they didnae have a place to live. Me great-grandmaither could see that he had lost his senses and, instead, ordered the tunnels to be built as an escape into the forest. They werenae used for years, but since Theo came, he has cleaned them out, and now the servants use them regularly."

"They are well cared for, I must admit."

"And where else did ye go tonight?" His eyes were twinkling now.

"I was mainly lookin' for the kitchen, but I found the laundry," Emily said, feeling absurdly proud of herself at his proud smile. "Yer great-grandmaither sounds sensible. It seems ye come from a line of sensible women."

Adam's eyes clouded over, but he shrugged. "I suppose I do." He looked up at her. "Where is yer maither?"

"She died when I was eight," Emily said, and his brow furrowed.

"I am sorry."

"So was I, but it was a long time ago. She would have loved this castle. She adored explorin'. Used to ride out with me faither every day to find new places across the Wilkinson lands."

"Aye. Me maither used to go with me faither when she was younger, until the clan needed her help."

Emily hesitated, watching the shadows dance over his face. "Why did he never return with her?"

Adam sighed. "He did. A few times. I think me faither preferred wars and conflict to business and family, and me maither always encouraged him. He didnae have a natural talent with children. I dinnae think he kenned what to do with Laura and Freya. Fiery, wee things."

His mouth quirked up in an affectionate smile, and Emily wished that she could capture that look forever. He seemed relaxed in a way she had rarely seen.

"We are to be married tomorrow," she said finally, speaking the words that had bounced about her head ever since she had seen him.

"Aye." He turned back to her, and his gaze wasn't angry this time. There was heat in it again, and Emily's skin prickled as a flush rose up her neck.

I wish he would make up his mind about what he wants from me .

"Do ye think Stewart will come?"

"Aye," he said again. "I dinnae believe he'll be able to help himself."

"And yer men will be waitin' for him?" She tried to keep the worry out of her voice but didn't quite manage it.

Adam's expression was calm and reassuring. "Aye, lass, ye'll be safe."

"But how can ye be sure? What if he brings more men than yers?"

"MacGordon's men are here too, remember. Doughall kens the man's strategy—he'll be waitin', and there'll be double what Stewart would think to bring."

"And what if he has heard of yer plans and brings his whole army?"

"Then I'll fight his whole army, and I'll win," Adam said gravely. He stood up and came around to the other side of the table, holding out his hand. After a moment, she took it, rising to her feet. "I've never lost a battle. Nothin' will happen to ye, lass."

"If he kills me, I shall come back and haunt ye."

She said it in jest, but Adam pulled her closer to him, looking down at her quizzically. "I thought ye couldnae wait to be free of me, lass."

"I'd haunt ye to vex ye," she said plainly, feeling a flutter in her chest as he chuckled.

But then his smile faded. "It's late. We should get ye back to yer room."

She pulled her hand gently from his and nodded. "Come on then."

She headed back toward the trapdoor.

"I am nae goin' down there," he said impatiently. "It isnae far to yer room from here."

"Well then, I shall see ye tomorrow."

Adam flexed his hands by his sides as he watched her go back into the pantry and pull at the trapdoor with all her strength.

It was much heavier on the way down than up; he knew that from when he was a child and had snuck into the pantry one night. In exasperation, he went to help her. He lifted it for her, and she gifted him with one of those happy smiles that made his heart swell.

Pausing, she looked up at him. "How many times did ye come here as a boy?" she asked playfully. "Be honest."

"Many. The cook hated me and me sisters. We always stole the best cakes."

Emily smirked. "Do ye ken, Mrs. Young's seed cake is the best I've ever had? The woman has a talent for it."

She spoke the words casually, but Adam hesitated. He had made a lot of mistakes that day, and he was still not comfortable admitting that Emily had been of use to him, but he knew now was the time.

They clambered down the ladder together and landed in the dim passageway. He watched her jump down like the pixie she was, and those bright green eyes followed his descent as he joined her.

The passage was eerie and silent, darkness closing in from either direction. In the gloom, he was able to dispel some of his fears and speak plainly.

"Ye did well today," he said curtly, and Emily raised her eyebrows in amazement. "Mrs. Young has been a problem from the start?—"

"That is because nay one was listenin' to her."

"Will ye let me finish, lass?" he said sternly.

Both of them had instinctively lowered their voices, standing together beneath the low ceiling. It was impossibly intimate, whispering together in the dark, and Adam felt a pulse of need so strong that he had to stop himself from reaching for her.

"She might nae have been heard, that's true, but from what Barclay told me, she has changed a great deal since she first came to our lands. When she first arrived, she was repeatedly making unreasonable demands—things we could never have agreed to. Whatever ye said and whatever ye did, I thank ye."

Emily beamed. "And do ye admit that ye cannae do everythin' on yer own?"

"Dinnae push it, lass."

Her tinkling laugh preceded him down the passage as she made her way back to her room.

Adam had been using these passages all his life, and even he sometimes forgot in which direction to head. Emily seemed to have no such trouble, turning to the left and right as though she had been born knowing the routes.

Once they reached the door that led to her chambers, Adam slowed down.

"Me rooms are further down. I'm goin' to see if the back door to me chambers is still wide enough while I'm here."

Emily turned to him, her shiny hair falling about her shoulders and over her nightgown. She still wore his jacket, and it fell almost down to her knees. Her scent permeated the air again, wrapping him up in the smell of the Highlands. It was almost as though he could feel the heather below his feet.

And tomorrow, she will be me wife. Or I'll take revenge on a man and never see her again.

At that thought, he stepped up to her, uncertain what he wanted but knowing that he didn't want to lose her in that moment.

His fingers moved to her hair, and she sucked in a breath as he ran them through the long strands. It fell in shimmering waves about her face, and he could not help admiring it.

"What will ye do," Emily whispered, "if Stewart doesnae come tomorrow?"

"He will."

He took a step forward, looming over her as she turned her face up to him. Her sharp features were all the more beautiful in the flickering torchlight. His hand was still running through her hair, and he cradled her head as the night seemed to close in on them.

She let out an unsteady breath, and Adam tried to remember why getting close to her was so unwise.

His hands ran down her neck and over her shoulders until they settled on either side of her waist. His thumbs brushed over her stomach as her eyes sparkled.

"Are ye ready to go home?" he asked, even as their bodies lined up against one another and her hands came to rest on his hips.

He lowered his head to hers, but she didn't pull away this time.

"Aye," she whispered, and her full lips remained parted as they stared at one another.

Adam moved the last inch toward her, capturing her mouth with his own. He intended to keep the kiss light, as though to bid her farewell, but as a moan slipped from her mouth, he found his hands gripping her tightly. He pushed her gently against the wall, thrusting his tongue against hers with an almost desperate urgency.

Her hands gripped the back of his léine as he ravaged her mouth, pushing one knee between her legs as she shuddered and sighed beneath him. His hands ran over her back and along her thighs, lifting one leg as he thrust forward.

He groaned at the exquisite friction; the layers of her gown so thin he could almost have pushed home inside her.

At that thought, he softened the kiss, lowering her leg back to the floor and pulling away. They stared at one another for a long, endless second.

Adam felt his control slipping, but this was goodbye. It had to be.

I cannae keep her with me all night, nay matter how much I am tempted to.

"Goodnight, lass," he said hoarsely as she let him go, removing his jacket and returning it to him.

"Goodnight, M'Laird," she whispered, and in the next instant, she was gone.

Adam stood in the corridor, watching the door she had left through for many minutes.

As he listened to the silence around him, the torch behind him guttered out, and he was plunged into darkness. He did not mind it. It would be easier to remain in the shadows than face what was coming in the light.