Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

As the door to her room clicked shut, Emma sagged against it and then slid down to the floor. Every exhale hurt, and she closed her eyes, tipping her head back against the door. Even as tears brimmed behind her eyelids, she carefully set down the inkwell and papers, then let her hands curl into fists.

I kissed Helena’s intended.

Her eyes opened. It did not matter whether Helena wanted to marry him or not. Now that she had met Laird Ronson, their plans to flee abroad seemed so foolish . Two na?ve, irresponsible girls who thought they could escape the political snares into which they’d been born. Their birth, their noble blood bound them to the land—and now to the lairds.

We were never going to get away.

She pressed a hand to her heart. Why did it ache so? Why had everything gone so wrong since the Queen issued her Edict?

It’s so unfair.

Emma sat there and silently raged at her circumstances, then she took a deep breath and sat up. With prim haste, she gathered up the papers and the inkwell, then stood up and crossed to her writing desk.

Destiny had never been clearer—or her mistakes. Nothing like what had happened at dinner last night between herself and the Laird could happen again. Her insides twisted with guilt.

Between Helena, her sister, and her parents, it was as though she could do nothing but wrong them.

For a moment, she stared blankly at the pages, and her entire heart seemed to wobble at the end of the nib. Then, she began to write.

Never had her quill skated so fast across the page.

First, she wrote to her mother, for it was long overdue. And she added a message to pass along to Agnes. She toyed with the idea of writing to her father but then put it off for another day. The letter to Helena was more pressing.

Emma seemed to pour her heart into those sheets, page after page filled with her scribbles. She told her friend how her escape had gone wrong, how the Laird who’d found her saved her and brought her home, and how she’d just discovered he was the man that Helena was meant to marry.

Helena, I did not know, but the man Queen Marianna intended for you to marry, the Laird she chose when she issued her Edict… he’s the one who saved me.

I am so, so, sorry. Please know that I never meant to betray you. But I kissed him.

Her tears fell then, and she wrote the best apology she could muster, but it did not suffice.

Finally, knowing she’d gone past the appointed time to meet the Laird, she folded the papers and addressed them. She did not have any wax, so she tied them up with ribbon and, out of habit, spritzed them with a bit of the perfume that the maids had brought this morning. It was fresh and lovely, and she dabbed some of it on her neck.

As she stood, holding the letter, someone knocked.

“Enter,” she began to say, but the person already had pushed the door open.

The man who loped in and grinned at her was far rangier, with fair hair and light green eyes. He resembled Laird Ronson, only leached of color and something else, something vital.

Immediately, Emma’s blood ran cold, and she stood straighter, eyeing him.

I don’t trust him.

The thought was strange and gave her pause. For one thing, it almost sounded like her shrewd father’s voice. For another, who was she to have any sort of opinion? But she held onto it. She found that she did not care if the man was related to Laird Ronson—she wanted to get away from him.

“Good afternoon, Lady Emma,” he said and leaned against the doorframe. “Nae a good idea to keep me braither waitin’.”

Emma started at that. “You are Laird Ronson’s brother?”

“Aye,” he said with a laugh that made her skin crawl. “And I ken, ‘tis a real pity we hadnae met yet.” His eyes lingered on her bosom, and she could not suppress her dismay. “Call me Reuben.”

I shall not.

“Thank you. I was just leaving.”

“Are those the letters ye need to post?” Reuben took a step forward, and Emma clutched the letters to her chest. “Easy, lass. The Laird asked me to take care of them while I handled other business for him. This way, ye can scurry off straightaway.” He wiggled his fingers. “Pip pip.”

Emma bit the inside her cheek, wishing she could confer with Laird Ronson about this. With no other choice, though, she stepped forward and slapped the bundle into Reuben’s hand.

“Take care of them, if you please,” she said as politely as she could, but there was an icy edge to her voice that rivaled Queen Marianna.

Reuben’s eyes gleamed, and his mouth twisted. “Och aye, me Lady. Wouldnae dream of doin’ otherwise and rufflin’ yer feathers when me braither is so keen on ye.”

“That’s not–” Emma began, but Reuben had already started down the hall, obnoxiously waving her letters.

Clenching her fists, she closed the door harder than necessary and stormed off in the direction of Laird Ronson’s study.

But a whistle halted her in her tracks.

“Oy,” Reuben called. “He’s waitin’ for ye in the bailey, lass. Dinnae tarry.”

Taking a deep breath, Emma turned back and followed him. Finally, they parted ways before the front doors, and she made a face at his retreating back.

Odious toad. If Helena does marry Laird Ronson, I know she will make short work of him.

Hurrying down the steps, she did not see the Laird at first, but a passing guard—a large, scarred man who gave her a small smile and pointed to the stables. As she nodded her thanks, she noted that she did not feel any trepidation around that man, even though he looked far more intimidating than Reuben.

Before she could give it any more thought, she rounded the corner and found Laird Ronson standing with two horses, Balfire and a demure tan mare.

“No,” Emma gasped as she turned to flee.

She heard the thud of boots behind her, and then she was snatched around the waist and tossed over a large shoulder before she made it a step. Her mouth dropped open in outrage as Laird Ronson simply carried her to the horses and then put her down.

“Are you mad?” she hissed.

“Och, aye,” he said in a low voice. “But I think we all are.”

“I told you why I do not care for blood,” she said and gave the horses an uneasy look over her shoulder. Balfire seemed to recognize her and nuzzled her shoulder, but she flinched away. “I am not interested in riding, Sir.”

“Ye can face yer fear of blood with a wound, but nae with a horse?” Laird Ronson held up a hand. “’Tis a shame, for I dinnae ken how else I should thank ye for our dance last night.”

Heat swept through Emma, and she almost swayed. Laughter and nerves spiraled through her, constricting her throat. What could she say to that? It almost sounded like he was flirting.

Helena’s intended, she reminded herself.

“Please,” she said softly, trying a different tactic as she met his deep green eyes. They were so different from his brother’s, with a depth to them like an inviting spring. “This is a fear that I know I cannot conquer.”

Laird Ronson gave her a slow smile and leaned closer. “Lass, that I cannae believe. Come now, we must be honest with each other.”

Balfire whickered, and Emma started, all but leaping away. Amusement flickered in the Laird’s eyes, but he did not laugh, only caught her elbow gently and pulled her forward.

Emma felt her temper rising. “This is most unfair,” she complained. “You are such a stubborn brute, you know that.”

“Och aye. I cannae forget with ye around, Emma,” he said.

Emma wrenched her elbow free and glared at him. “You must stop being so familiar with me. You are my best friend’s intended. I…” His gaze seemed to burn into hers. “I… Oh, what?”

“It’s goin’ to be like that, is it nae, Me Lady?” he asked, and her stomach fluttered.

How dare he make her title sound even more wicked than her name?

“Then ye should have nay fear of me or ridin’. ‘Tis simply part of our bargain.”

“First we have a deal, now we have a bargain,” Emma muttered and shifted her weight from foot to foot. “We… We really should not be doing this, Laird Ronson.” She swallowed hard, and before she lost her courage, she added, “And I think you know that.”

The green of his eyes frosted over, and he stood straighter, his lip curling. “Fine, Me Lady. We shall keep this proper. Ye shall learn how to ride without havin’ to say a word to me—all ye must do is listen.” He cocked his head. “Does that work?”

No, Emma wanted to shout, but she saw the set of his shoulders and jaw.

Although they had only known each other a handful of days, she knew him well enough to know that no amount of arguing would dissuade him from this idea.

Or maybe you want to give in.