Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

Emma ran.

Only this time, she ran toward him .

He straightened, and something flashed in his eyes, making her heart pound faster. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, kiss his handsome face and never let go.

However, fear that she’d barely managed to bury welled up inside her, and she faltered.

Has something happened to Helena?

Emma halted a foot away from him. “Laird Ronson, why are you here?” She clutched a hand to her heart. “How are you here?”

“Balfire doesnae tire, and we rode night and day to get to ye, Emma,” Grant said in that husky voice that sent a bolt of heat up her spine. “And I am here for ye.” His smile widened. “Ye were wrong—our time together isnae over.”

She stumbled back. “What about Helena? Didn’t you get married?”

He gave a slow shake of his head. “I dinnae ken where Helena is.”

Emma started at that, and her mind flashed back to Helena’s letter, the confession that her friend had kissed someone else. Much as she craved more details, she had to know what Grant meant first.

“Our time together is over,” she blurted out. “And even if it isn’t?—”

“Two more nights.” Grant took a step forward, and stopped as she drew back. His eyes smoldered and danced as he gazed at her. “Or is it three?”

“I do not take your meaning?—”

“The time we lost when I was ill, lass,” Grant explained, and Emma’s entire body went hot. “When ye were locked away in the damned dungeon. I havenae made that up to ye.” He tilted his head to the side. “Nae enough, anyway.”

Emma noted that his hair and beard seemed much longer than when they’d parted, as though he had not bothered to groom himself. That made her entire body tingle, even though she was not sure why.

Still, this was madness. Her family would be here within days, and he was still promised to Helena.

“I’m afraid you are mistaken, My Laird,” Emma said with a faint smile. “And?—”

“I am also here to make amends,” he added softly. “To apologize for putting ye in danger—and for nae heedin’ ye.” He rubbed a hand over his face, and her hands twitched, remembering what it was like to run her hands over his scruff. “I am so sorry, Emma. I fought like hell to make sure Banrose was a place of peace, and yet ye never got to see that. Nae truly.”

“Grant…”

His words moved her, and yet…

“Thank you, but you are a warrior in a warriors’ land. I see that now.” She bit the inside of her cheek to try and keep the tears at bay. “Even if I wanted—or was free…” The same tenderness and heat from their encounter in the secret woods flickered in his eyes. “I cannot just forget that your first solution is to kill. I cannot forget that you killed your brother for me.”

“I dinnae regret that, Emma,” Grant said softly. “It was only a matter of time before he showed his true colors. And more, I told ye that I will never regret protectin’ ye. I will always do everything in me power to keep ye safe.” He held out his hands. “But I will also do everything in me power to keep the peace and strive to be a better man. For ye. I promise.”

His words reverberated through her, making her breath hitch.

“I have ordered the finest piano for ye,” he revealed in a soft voice. “I have minstrels comin’, a whole set of musicians to entertain our folk—and us. So that we may dance every night.”

At that, Emma trembled all over, and her knees seemed barely able to hold her. The look in his eyes overwhelmed her.

“You did?” she whispered.

“Aye.”

“I… No, Grant, we cannot,” she stammered. She gripped the front of her dress as she shook with the effort of staying upright. “I thank you for your words, for your deeds—for saving me and being so… so wonderful. But even if I wanted you, the Queen… her will shall not be defied.”

“Ah.” Grant leaned back against the wall and offered her a wicked smile. “So, ye do want me?”

Emma threw her hands up in the air, furious, itching to smack the smirk off his face as much as she wanted to throw herself at him.

“Did you hear me?” she cried. “It does not matter.”

Grant stared at her, not speaking for several moments, before he said in a soft voice that warmed her entire body, “It does to me.”

Emma cursed, and his eyes went wide. A smile spread across his face, but it faltered when she began to weep.

“Do not follow me!” she shouted as she fled back inside. “Go back to Scotland. You must leave, Grant. You cannot be here.”

“Nay, Emma,” he called after her, his husky voice barely audible above the stillness. “Ye dinnae understand that I cannae .”

Emma had tried everything—wandering around Cambarelle, attempting to play the pianoforte, trying to find a new book to read, even cleaning her room and attempting a bit of needlepoint.

Nothing worked. Time and again, as the day dragged on, she returned to the second landing to see if Grant—no, Laird Ronson—had left.

Every time, even as the sky turned a shade of soft rose, her entire body ran hot and cold. Her fingers trembled, prickling with nerves, and her breaths grew short. A wave of dizziness would sweep through her as she approached the window, and then she would have to take a deep breath before finally coming to the glass.

He’s still there.

Her knees went weak, and she sank into the soft chair there, resting her head on her hand. A laugh escaped her lips, and she shook her head.

Glancing around, Emma was glad that she’d told the servants to enjoy their day off. She could not get rid of all of them, and she could not be sure if anyone had seen him, but so far no one had said anything. Perhaps they feared speaking out of turn. But they would surely tell her aunt. And her father.

What if he stays there all night?

Emma froze, then shoved herself out of the chair. Her entire body seemed to thrum with drunken stars as she flew down the stairs, her skirts billowing behind her. She felt like a flame, one that called to Grant, who stepped forward like a man starved for even the hint of warmth. His eyes burned into hers, a brightness in that dark green like a sun about to burst forth from a heaving, endless sea, turning all the waters vibrant.

Such impossibilities, an ocean with a star, water and fire, all seemed possible as Emma crossed to where Grant still stood.

And something deep within her whispered, He shall not leave.

“Have you gone entirely mad, my Laird?” she blurted out, for that thought had made her stop just out of his reach.

She knew that he could step forward and catch her in one move, and that she probably would not see him coming.

He will always catch me.

Emma crushed down the thrill in her heart, for it did not hold. None of this could. Instead, anger welled up inside her.

“You have,” she continued as he took a step forward, and she stumbled back. “Or perhaps you mean to drive me to madness? I tell you, My Laird, it is working. You…”

She had to bite back the rest of her words, for she was on the verge of tears, a pressure building in her throat, and she clenched her sweaty hands.

You are meant to marry Helena, and you are breaking my heart by pretending otherwise. We cannot be together.

“I do not understand what more you could want from me,” she added in a broken whisper, one that she did not want him to hear.

“I still await yer reply, Emma Wells,” Grant said. “And we are well past formalities, mo cridhe. ” He took another step forward, cautious now, and her eyes narrowed but she did not flee. “You ask me if I am mad? I am—for ye.” His voice grew huskier. “I have spent every day, every hour we have been apart thinkin’ that I have been such a fool for nae askin’ ye to stay for as long we both draw breath.”

Emma’s lungs burned as she pulled in deep breaths, but it was a lovely kind of burn, an ache, and she felt a dazzling flicker of hope, before it was swept away.

“This—this cannot be, Grant,” she said, stepping forward, and his eyes lit up.

She knew she should have fled as he closed the gap between them and their fingers brushed, sending sparks up her spine.

“I’ve had moments of doubt, too,” Grant murmured, and his hand reached for her face, his calloused fingers brushing against her cheek. “Doubts of whether ye wanted to stay.”

“ Of course I wanted to stay!” Emma cried, even though she had been pulled into his madness and should have never said such a thing.

She thought she might be turning into fire, for she was burning , and she tried to turn away, to push away his touch. But he caught her easily.

“I love you, Grant, but?—”

She did not finish, for he kissed her hard, one hand catching the back of her head and the other splaying across her lower back. He pressed her against him, leaving no doubt of his burning desire, and she kissed him back. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he deepened and slowed the kiss with such intensity that she gasped into his mouth.

How did I make it through these weeks without him?

They broke apart, breathing hard, but he kept her close.

Grant smoothed a hand over her hair and smiled at her. “Ye will need to make it up to me for makin’ me wonder if perhaps it was one-sided, Emma.”

“What?” Emma sputtered and tried to pull away. “Wait?—”

“Nay, I have waited too long,” Grant said. “I love ye. I want ye. And I will never let ye go now that I ken ye feel the same.”

“But—but the Queen’s Edict,” Emma protested, even as her heart seemed to soar into the sky, golden light filling every inch of her body.

“I shall follow it,” Grant said, and her eyes went wide. “Only if I get to marry the errant twin of Lady MacLarsen.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I might have also spun a tale about rescuin’ ye while nae kennin’ who ye truly are, and suggested that if MacLarsen and yer sister Agnes followed their hearts to such success, then perhaps ye and I can do the same.”

Emma closed her eyes and fell against him, breathing in his familiar scent and feeling that she’d come home after too many days of stumbling in the middle of nowhere.

“You—you did that for me?” she whispered into his chest.

“Aye, of course I did,” he said. “I might have implied that I helped the Royal Family, so they should grant us this.”

Emma laughed and looked up at him. “Truly?”

“Aye.” He chuckled. “I might have listened to me maither, too, and paraphrased a bit of Mark’s wisdom at the end. Let nay man or Queen put asunder what God has joined together… ”

Emma threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, as it seemed to finally and fully resonate within her.

“We shall never be separated again,” she murmured when she pulled back.

Grant scooped her up into his arms and grinned. “Never—nae even if ye run.” He dipped his head and kissed her again. “Now, may I come in? I am parched after watchin’ ye pretend nae to watch me all day, love.”

Emma laughed, as he did not wait for her answer and strode across Cambarelle’s immaculate lawns and up the fine staircase, with his Lady in his arms.

And she thought that perhaps her aunt’s house had never heard such joy in all the time it had stood.

At least until they went upstairs after a snack.