Chapter 35

35

E mily woke up with the sunrise.

The familiar walls of her old room at Wilkinson Castle surrounded her, and she should have felt a sense of belonging. But her mind lingered on only one thing as she lay staring at the ceiling.

I wonder how Adam is spendin' his morning today.

A part of her mind conjured up images of him rejoicing at her absence. Perhaps he would joke about the many women he would pursue now that his marriage was over. The other, secret part imagined him missing her.

It was strange to wake up in her old room again. Although she had only spent two weeks in MacNiall Castle, it had felt much longer. The bed felt strange and uncomfortable beneath her, the blankets scratchy and unpleasant.

I have grown too accustomed to the luxuries at MacNiall Castle .

She threw the covers off her, got out of bed, and walked to the window. The lands before her looked the same. She loved this view, but seeing it again was bittersweet.

He didnae even say goodbye to me, as if I dinnae mean anythin' to him at all.

She rubbed at her chest. An ache had settled over her heart which she could not shake, and she took a deep breath to try to dispel it.

A gentle knock at the door announced the arrival of her maids. It was as though nothing had changed at all as they all fluttered about her, saying how well she looked.

When it came to choosing what she would wear for the day, she chose one of her old dresses. It seemed drab in comparison to the gowns that Adam had bought for her. She looked longingly at the trunk beside the window—she had not had the heart to ask her maids to unpack it.

She would not wear them again—she could not.

As her maids put the finishing touches to her dress and secured her hair in beautiful braids about her head, she looked at her reflection in confusion. To her, she looked incomparably different from the girl who had left the castle for her wedding all that time ago.

She rose, trying to forget the woman she had been amongst the MacNialls, trying to remember who her father and brother would be expecting to see. Her skin and body felt foreign to her, as though she existed outside of herself.

"Laird Wilkinson is having breakfast in the hall, M'Lady. Will ye go down?" one of the maids asked.

Emily nodded eagerly.

She had arrived late the night before, and after a tearful reunion with her brother and father, they had all gone to bed with little discussion of what was to come.

She was not surprised when she opened her bedroom door and found her brother lurking in the corridor, waiting for her.

She grinned at him. "Were ye guardin' me door against more men who have come to whisk me away?" she asked, amused.

Bruce scoffed, surprising her by enveloping her in a tight hug before stepping back. "I wanted to see ye before ye came down. I wanted to check ye are alright."

She frowned. "Why would I nae be alright?"

Bruce stared at her in astonishment. "Because ye have been kept by that brute for two weeks. We couldnae even come to help ye because of the state of things here. I couldnae bear not kennin' what had happened to ye."

"That brute sent his men to protect ye from Stewart," Emily insisted.

"Aye, and too late it was, too. If he'd done that sooner, Faither might still have all the fingers on his left hand."

Emily paused, the guilt rushing through her again as she thought of the stump on her father's hand.

"That was me fault," she admitted slowly. "I shouldnae have gone with Adam in the first place. If I had married James, none of this would have happened."

"Emily, stop talkin' like that!" Bruce said sternly and stopped in the middle of the corridor. "None of this is yer fault. One man forced ye to marry him against yer will, the other kidnapped ye! What could ye have done? I should have stopped MacNiall. I should have killed him where he stood."

Emily tried to school her features at that awful prospect but was evidently not successful. Bruce watched her carefully, his brows rising as she felt the heat of a blush creep up her cheeks.

"Dinnae tell me ye care for the man now?" he asked disbelievingly. "He kidnapped ye!"

"I ken that. But he isnae as bad as ye think. He took me with him so he could save his sister, but he could also have kept me locked away in a dungeon until the weddin'. Instead, he looked after me. He protected me, Bruce."

"Protected ye from a danger he created."

"Stewart would've come after me either way. From what I've learned of the blaggard, he wouldnae have been content till he'd destroyed everythin' I love, especially the two of ye. Adam put a stop to that."

Bruce sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He gave her a sidelong glance and frowned. "Was MacNiall truly kind to ye?"

"He was. He isnae the person ye believe him to be. I was very well looked after at the castle. He has a younger sister who was very kind to me—even his maither was welcomin'."

They headed down to breakfast, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

"And he let ye go." Bruce sounded pleased with that. "At least that's somethin'."

"He wanted me to go," Emily replied angrily. "Adam never wanted a wife, and our marriage was…" She blushed furiously at the idea of telling her brother that her marriage was not consummated. "The marriage wasnae real."

"But I thought ye said in yer letter that ye were truly married in the end?"

"Well, nae in any sense that matters," she finished lamely, hoping Bruce would drop the subject.

Thankfully, they reached the bottom of the steps and entered the long dining hall. Emily felt a rush of affection as she saw her father's familiar figure step through the door at the other end of the room.

He approached her eagerly, taking her into his arms in a rare show of affection and then leaning back to look at her.

"I didnae have a chance to see ye properly last night. How are ye feelin' after yer journey?"

"Well enough," she said, gently taking his hands in her own, mindful of the painful stump on his left one. "How are ye ?"

"Och, the healer says it will heal well. I cannae complain. We are all alive and well."

Emily pulled her hands back briefly and pulled the signet ring from her index finger. She handed it to him, and he raised his eyebrows as he took it.

"I didnae think I would see it again."

Her father placed the signet ring on the little finger of his other hand and held it up to the light with a strange smile. Emily rather thought he saw it as a badge of honor now, a scar to avenge his daughter.

Emily hesitated. "MacNiall returned it to me. I think he always kenned I would see ye again." She stared down at the ring, anger mixing with relief at the memories it invoked. "I wish I had had a chance to stab Stewart meself," she said furiously.

"Now, now, I willnae have me daughter speakin' of murder. He is dead, and that is the true victory. It is the one thing I am grateful to MacNiall for."

Emily tamped down the immediate urge to defend Adam. It would be a long time before she could tell her father what had really happened between them—if she ever could.

They all took their seats. Emily smiled as she saw that her favorite foods had been prepared. There was a fresh seed cake at the end of the table, and her father clucked his tongue at her as she took a slice before anything else. There was bacon, eggs, and haggis. She felt spoiled and happy to be home despite the ache in her chest.

Breakfast was a cheerful affair. Bruce gave Emily the details of how they had spent the past weeks. She was startled to discover that almost as soon as Adam had taken her, Stewart sent men to follow her brother and father back to the castle.

Bruce's voice was grave.

"We werenae able to leave the grounds. Everythin' that was delivered was searched. We felt like prisoners in our own home, and we could do nothin' against him. Every time we tried he threatened he'd…Well, that he'd hurt ye. He sent dozens of men, far more than we had to defend ourselves."

Her father's expression was angry and bitter as she listened.

"We desperately wanted to come and find ye. We tried to send scouts to look for ye, but after three of them were killed, we had to stop."

"It was a difficult time," her father added with a crack in his voice that made Emily tear up. She rarely heard any emotion from him, but her absence had clearly pained him greatly.

"Ye ken I was well looked after, Faither," she insisted. "MacNiall isnae as bad as ye think."

"I dinnae ken if I deserve such praise," came a deep voice from the end of the room.

Bruce and her father were on their feet in seconds, their swords drawn. Bruce took a long stride forward, ready to kill Adam where he stood.

Adam was standing at the end of the table, as though he had materialized out of thin air, and Emily couldn't take her eyes off him.

He was wearing the same clothing that he had at her wedding to James. The fur around his shoulders made him look like a wolf again, and he had tied back his hair, showing off his sharp features and high cheekbones.

Emily remained seated as those familiar blue eyes found hers.

"Ye have nay business here," Bruce spat, taking another step forward. "Or have ye come to finish what ye started?" He raised his léine to show the thin cut that ran across the entire length of his torso.

Adam took a few steps forward as Laird Wilkinson rounded the table, standing behind Emily's chair and glaring at him with pure hatred.

"I have come to speak to me wife," Adam said evenly, watching the two men as though they posed no threat at all.

"I didnae think ye had a wife," Bruce snapped. "Seein' as ye sent her away after ye got what ye wanted from her."

Adam laid a hand on his chest. "Ye are right. Ye have nay reason to trust me, and I will do as ye say. All I ask is that ye give Emily the chance to choose whether I remain or go back to me castle. If she doesnae want me here, I'll let ye cut me as ye see fit."

Emily swallowed convulsively past the lump in her throat, glancing between the three men in agitation. She didn't know what to do. All she was certain of was that a stupid part of her heart didn't want Adam to leave.

He looked glorious before her. Like a dark angel come to rescue her.

Rescue me from what? I am home, where I should be. Where he sent me to be.

But as her eyes met his, she knew she would not be able to turn him away.

She looked up at her father and shook her head, rising slowly to her feet as the atmosphere in the room changed. Both men reluctantly sheathed their swords, Bruce a little more slowly than his father, and Emily walked to the head of the table.

Adam towered over her, but he was utterly still, waiting for her verdict.

"Let us go outside," she said stiffly. "Before me braither kills ye."

Adam glanced at Bruce as though the likelihood of that was very slim, but he nodded and followed her outside.

The gardens were lush, with many flowers bobbing their heads in the breeze. Emily descended the short flight of steps by the rear door, walking ahead of Adam until she reached the middle of the stairs. There, she turned and waited to hear what he had to say for himself.

Adam came to a stop, looking around him with interest. "Ye have a beautiful castle here. I can see why ye wanted to return."

"Dinnae try that with me, Laird MacNiall. Ye were the one who sent me back here, and ye ken it."

Adam's expression fell at her words, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. Emily noticed her brother hovering in the doorway behind them, watching Adam like a hawk.

"Let's walk a little further into the gardens, and make nay sudden moves, or me braither will shoot ye with an arrow."

"I shallnae throw ye over me shoulder this time, I promise," Adam replied blithely.

They walked together into the gardens, flowers surrounding them amidst long green grass and beautiful evergreens.

As they stopped, Adam touched her elbow lightly, turning her around to face him.

"I want ye to come back with me," he said earnestly, the intensity of his gaze stealing her breath. "I want me wife to come home."

Adam was not accustomed to feeling nervous. He had been in many battles, brawls, and arguments, but he had never been willing to beg someone before.

Emily looked impossibly beautiful in a pale satin gown. He admonished himself inwardly for having bought her dresses in such deep colors. She looked stunning in everything, but nothing compared to this pale blue dress.

"And when did ye decide this?" she asked, the sharpness of her tongue reminding him of the pixie he was bargaining with.

"After ye left, but I kenned it before then."

Emily scoffed, looking away from him as he examined her profile. "Do ye need a wife on yer arm for some clan business? Because I have already told ye how I feel about that."

"I am tryin' to explain meself, and ye arenae makin' it easy."

"I do apologize, M'Laird. Please continue."

"Call me M'Laird one more time and I might rethink throwin' ye over me shoulder."

He watched her shiver as a blush rose to her cheeks.

"Alright, what is it ye wish to say?" she asked.

"That I am sorry." That got her attention. "I am sorry for bein' a fool. I believed I was doin' what was best for me clan by sendin' ye away. All me life, I had thought me faither abandoned us for me maither, but I ken the truth now. He chose that life, and me maither was his greatest supporter. Just as ye have been."

He sighed, looking back at the pale faces of her father and brother.

"I have made a lot of mistakes in me life, Emily."

Emily was watching him now, her expression intrigued.

"I thought if I took a wife, cared for a wife, I would lose sight of what mattered. When ye were in danger, I didnae think about anythin' else—I just had to make sure ye were safe. I thought that meant that I was abandonin' me people, prioritizin' ye over them. I understand now that was wrong. A wife makes a laird stronger, nae weaker. If I focused on yer safety it is because I care for those around me, and ye are nay exception."

"Because I am one of yer people? " she asked skeptically.

"Because ye are one half of a whole."

She inhaled sharply at that, and he stepped a little closer, mindful of their audience but unable to be away from her a moment longer.

"I cannae trust ye," she said wearily. "Ye may feel like this today and change yer mind tomorrow. What if I were to get back to the castle and call a council meetin' without yer permission? What if I were to take clan matters into me own hands?"

"Would ye keep things from me? Would ye nae tell me what ye wanted to do?"

"Nay."

"Well then, I wouldnae care."

"Ye have just decided this?"

"I have had me eyes opened, lass. There's a difference. Ye cannae blame a man for bein' ignorant of the benefits of a wife when he's only had a false one." Her jaw clenched tightly, and he smiled, brushing his thumb against it. "I am askin' for that to change, do ye nae see?"

"I cannae just be a wife in name. I cannae just stand to the side and watch ye control everythin'."

"Well, good, because the woman I love doesnae stand to the side of anythin'."

Her eyes widened then, and she looked up at him in disbelief. He placed his hands on her waist.

"Say ye'll come home with me. Freya will never forgive me if I dinnae return with ye."

"Och, so ye are bringin' me back because of yer sister?" Despite her sharp tone, amusement laced her voice.

"Of course. Do ye ken how many books are in that library? It'll take her years to sort them without some help."

Emily laughed, and Adam pulled her against his body, groaning low in his throat as she leaned away from him.

"Tell me ye will come back with me."

She sighed, closing her eyes as his heart swelled in his chest.

"Alright," she said finally, and he lifted her into his arms and kissed her.

It was a wild, reckless kiss, showing her all the passion, need, and desire he had held deep inside him for so long. Her arms went around his neck, and he laughed happily as she wriggled to be put down.

Someone cleared their throat, and Adam quickly put her down with a bump. She hit him lightly on the arm as he turned to her father, who was standing before them. He bowed low, and when he straightened up, the older man was watching his daughter with some confusion.

"I had thought that ye hated this man for takin' ye with him, but it seems that I was mistaken."

Emily stepped in front of Adam, as though protecting him, and reached her hand out to her father. The old man took it tenderly.

"He is a good man, Da, and he has cared for me these last few weeks. I care about him, too. He has saved me life, and yers, from James Stewart."

"Aye, so he has." Laird Wilkinson looked up at Adam with a shrewd look and gave a single nod. "Ye had better take care of me wee lassie, ye hear me?"

"I will, Sir. I swear it. There is nothin' I want more than for her to come back with me and be the Lady of me castle. Ye and yer son are welcome to visit us any time. The Wilkinsons will always be friends of the MacNialls. Ye have me word."

Adam knew that the two clans being allied would guarantee peace for their people. It was a benefit of being with the woman he loved.

Laird Wilkinson took his daughter's hands in his and smiled at them both. "I ken ye cannae stay with us now, and I am glad of it. Me children must carve their own paths, and I can see ye have begun to do just that. I will lend ye the carriage for the journey back to yer new home."

"Thank ye, Sir, but I brought me own carriage," Adam said awkwardly.

Emily looked back at him. "Were ye so sure I'd say yes?" she asked, but there was a teasing glint in her eyes now, and he was thrilled to see it.

"A man can hope."