THE LAIRD'S WRONG WIFE

LAIRDS OF THE LEANAN LOVE FESTIVAL

BOOK FOUR

LYDIA KENDALL

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ABOUT THE BOOK

“Ye kidnapped the wrong lass.”

“I’m still keepin’ ye.” 

Desperate to protect her sister, Ceana takes her place at the Leanan Festival...only to be snatched.

As expected, her captor is ruthless. Beastly. Vicious.

But also handsome.

Seductive.

And a dedicated father to the sweetest bairns Ceana has met.

So he issues his order:

She's to raise his children, but stay out of his way.

Well, if he wanted a bride to obey his every word, he chose the wrong wife.

***

Laird Oscar stole the wrong lass. He knows it.

But Ceana is the only person who's ever tamed his little son.

So he must keep her...

And to protect his family, he must also keep his distance.

So he can never touch her...No matter how well she moans his name.

BEFORE YOU START READING…

Eager to know Oscar’s back story? Read this Prequel Chapter about how it all began. It will help you picture my story and the characters better in your mind.

Many of my readers requested it and that's why I am giving it away for free! I believe you will LOVE IT!

It’s not mandatory to read it, but it will be really helpful if it's your first time with this book.

Read the beginning of the their story here.

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CHAPTER 1

Ceana caught the ribbon of her mask before a turning dancer pulled it loose. 

Good God, she was really cutting it close. 

She stepped away from the reel, tightened the knot beneath her hair, and checked that the painted leather still covered the upper half of her face.

If it slipped, anyone close enough would see that the woman beneath it had smooth cheeks. Daphne’s freckles were the easiest way to tell the Tulloch twins apart, and the borrowed mask had hidden that difference for most of the afternoon.

The people gathered for the final day of the Leanan Festival believed they were looking at Daphne Tulloch, the elder twin and intended bride of Angus MacWatt. Daphne’s dark green gown, Morrag cloak, and silver ribbons completed the deception from a distance. Ceana had spent the day ensuring that no one came close enough to question what they saw.

“Lady Daphne,” a man called from beside one of the ale tables.

Ceana continued for two steps before remembering that the name was hers now. She turned and found an older clansman raising his cup toward her. His mask had slipped sideways, exposing one flushed cheek.

“A fine evenin’ for ye,” he said. “Enjoy it while ye can. By tomorrow, ye may be promised to Gilmore.”

“A warnin’ delivered with such cheer deserves another cup,” Ceana replied, lowering her voice. She inclined her head and moved away before he could study her face.

She passed between two garlanded posts and forced herself to keep an easy pace. If Daphne was safe when she found her, she intended to embrace her first and strangle her immediately afterward. Daphne had disappeared before dawn without leaving her a destination, a companion’s name, or any promise beyond a hurried request for time.

Ceana had given her that time by putting on her clothes.

A group of musicians played near the central fire while masked couples moved through a reel on the flattened grass. Beyond them, armed retainers stood at the edge of the grounds and watched men from rival clans share the same ale tables.

Every participating laird had pledged safe conduct for the festival week. Quarrels that might have drawn steel elsewhere were expected to remain words beneath the eyes of witnesses here.

A cheer rose near another garlanded post, and Ceana turned long enough to see a masked couple exchange braided ribbons while their families gathered around them. A herald called their names, and members of both clans answered with applause. Such matches carried no force without the couple’s agreement, yet a public promise made during the festival placed both families under heavy expectation.

Daphne was supposed to make that promise before the celebrations ended.

Their father would soon demand that his elder daughter appear beside Angus. Ceana had planned as far as delaying that moment. Every path beyond it ended with questions she could not answer.

The drunk clansman had followed her. “The Gilmore alliance will serve yer faither well,” he said, reaching for the ribbons at her wrist. “A valuable bride brings valuable friends.”

Ceana moved her hand before his fingers reached her. “Then I must pray they value me enough to let me keep me ribbons.”

He laughed as though she had invited further conversation. “A face such as yers could have brought twice the offer.”

The compliment belonged to Daphne’s name and Daphne’s gown. Contracts had always found her sister, and Ceana had learned long ago that affection and marriage were separate matters. Anyway, the old whispers surrounding her had made certain no laird looked twice in her direction.

The familiar tightness returned beneath her ribs, though she kept her smile in place.

“Twice the offer would require twice the husband,” she remarked. “One seems trouble enough.”

The man laughed again and lifted his cup.

Ceana used the moment to slip into the moving crowd. She had nearly reached the musicians when a woman wearing Morrag colors stepped directly into her path.

“Daphne, there ye are.” Mistress Isla Lennox lifted her mask and smiled. She had visited Morrag Castle often enough to know both sisters. “Yer maither has been lookin’ everywhere for Ceana. Have ye seen her? I expect she has hidden somewhere quiet again.”

Ceana’s fingers tightened around the edge of her cloak. Hearing herself discussed as an absent inconvenience should not have hurt. She had spent years being the quieter twin, the daughter guests remembered after Daphne left a room.

“I daenae ken where she is,” she answered. She kept her voice low and leaned closer to the musicians as if their music forced it. “Perhaps she grew tired of watchin’ everyone else arrange her life.”

Isla frowned. “Ye sound strange.”

“The pipes have left me half deaf.”

A line of dancers swept between them before Isla could answer. Ceana stepped back with the passing bodies and let the crowd carry her toward the fires. She risked one glance over her shoulder and saw Isla searching for her through the masks.

She also noticed two unfamiliar men standing beyond her. One wore a gray half-mask and a dark cloak too heavy for the mild afternoon. The other had bare hands marked by scars across the knuckles. Their attention moved from one woman in Morrag colors to another. When the man in gray saw Ceana looking, he turned to his companion and pointed.

Her pulse struck hard beneath her jaw.

They could be Angus’s men, sent to collect his bride before the public ceremony. Her father might have ordered them to find Daphne. Either possibility would end the deception the moment one of them demanded to speak to her or even moved closer. 

Ceana turned with the dancers and caught the hand offered by a masked stranger. He pulled her to the edge of the reel before she had time to reconsider.

Another dancer received her at the turn and placed a guiding hand on her waist. The required touch lasted only a moment, though the press of unfamiliar fingers reminded her how little control anyone possessed once hidden behind a mask.

Including her.

Especially her.

She moved through the pattern while trying to locate the two men between shoulders and raised arms. The firelight shifted across painted faces, and the music quickened as linked hands drew her further into the circle. When she caught another glimpse of the gray mask, the man was forcing his way through the dancers.

Ceana released her partner at the next turn and slipped away from the reel. She passed behind an ale tent, lifted the hem of Daphne’s fine gown, and hurried between two supply carts, trying desperately to ignore the way the thin shoes pinched her toes on the uneven ground. Her own plain dress and boots would have served her far better, though neither would have convinced anyone that she was the sister meant to marry Angus MacWatt.

What have ye gotten yerself into, Ceana?

She stopped behind a cart stacked with empty barrels and listened. A wave of music and conversation covered any footsteps that might have followed. For one sharp moment, she considered returning to her father and confessing everything. She could remove the mask, place Daphne’s ribbons in his hands, and admit that her sister had fled.

That confession would begin the search before Ceana knew whether Daphne had reached safety or not, and Angus’s clan would learn of the insult before she could prepare for their answer.

She tightened her hold on the cloak and stepped out from behind the cart. That was the moment a child cried somewhere beyond the festival fires.

She paused.

The sound came again from the quieter ground past the supply wagons, broken by a frightened attempt to call for help. She looked toward the crowded festival and searched for the men in gray and black. Remaining among the guests offered her the best chance of losing them.

The child cried again, and she knew she couldn’t ignore the sound. 

Great. Just great.

She gathered up Daphne’s gown and followed the sound. Soon enough, she moved past the final supply cart and found the child crouched beneath a broad tree at the edge of the festival grounds.

He looked about five years old, with dark hair falling over his forehead and mud across the knees of clothes finer than most children wore to play. His shoulders shook as he stared at the exposed roots beside him.

She lowered herself to his height. “What is wrong, little one? Are ye in pain?”

“Nay, it is me goat.” He dragged one sleeve across his wet face and pointed between the roots.

“Yer what?”

A young goat lay trapped beneath the tree. One slender leg had slipped into a narrow space between two thick roots, and every attempt to pull free forced it deeper. The animal bleated and kicked against the earth while loose soil gathered around its trapped hoof.

Ceana laid her cloak on the grass and pulled off Daphne’s gloves. “What is her name?”

“Ness.” The boy crawled closer, though he stopped when the goat struggled again. “I think her leg is broken. Me faither said I must keep her away from the fires, and I tried, but she ran after something. If she cannae walk, he may have her put down.”

“Yer faither will do nay such thing until we ken what is wrong with her.” Ceana kept her voice level and reached carefully for the goat. “Ness needs ye to help her. Can ye stop cryin’ long enough to hold her still?”

The boy swallowed and wiped his face again. “Aye.”

“What is yer name?”

“Tommy.”

“Then come here, Tommy. Put one hand beneath her chest and keep the other away from her mouth. She may bite if she is frightened.”

“Ness doesnae bite,” he said as he obeyed. “She only tastes people.”

Ceana shrugged. “Well, that is a great comfort.”

Tommy settled beside the goat and spoke softly into its ear. Ceana ran her fingers along the trapped leg without pulling. The bone appeared straight, though the hoof had turned at an awkward angle beneath the root. She pushed loose soil aside and removed two small stones that blocked the narrow opening.

Ness kicked suddenly, one hoof striking Ceana’s shoulder, and the branch above her caught the ribbon securing her mask, causing the leather to shift across her face.

Ceana caught it with a muddy hand and tightened the ribbon before it could fall. Her pulse remained quick even after the mask was secure. No one stood close enough to see beneath it. The music from the festival still reached them, though the trees and carts hid this part of the grounds from the main crowd.

“She is makin’ this more difficult than it needs to be,” Ceana huffed.

Tommy held Ness more firmly. “She is scared.”

“So am I. I have never argued with a goat before.”

“She will win. Ness always wins.”

Ceana looked at his solemn face and nearly laughed. “Then we must convince her this was her idea.”

She pressed one hand against the upper root and cleared more soil with the other. A clump of mud spread across the sleeve and beneath her fingernails. The hem of the borrowed gown darkened where she kneeled, and a stitch near the cuff gave way when she forced the root aside.

“Now lift her body toward me,” she said. “Very gently.”

Tommy gathered Ness against his chest. Ceana guided the leg backward, turning the hoof until it aligned with the gap. The goat struggled once, then slid free with a startled bleat that sent Tommy falling onto his backside.

Ness scrambled upright and moved several paces away. She favored the leg at first, though she soon placed weight on it and lowered her head to investigate a patch of grass.

“She can stand,” Tommy said, relief breaking across his face as he rushed after her. “Ness, ye can stand!”

Ceana rose and brushed mud from her gown. The stain spread beneath her hand, and the torn cuff hung loosely around her wrist. She would have to invent an explanation before anyone from Clan Morrag saw her. For the moment, she watched Ness take several more steps and crouched again to examine the freed leg.

The goat resisted being touched, which Ceana accepted as a promising sign. She found no swelling beneath the hair and no obvious bend in the bone.

“She is frightened and sore,” she told Tommy. “Keep her from runnin’ tonight and have someone examine her leg again when ye return to yer tents.”

Tommy stared at her as if she had restored more than a troublesome animal. “Ye saved her.”

“Ye helped. Ness needed someone she trusted to hold her still.”

“I only stopped cryin’.”

Ceana nodded. “Aye. Ye were very brave once ye remembered how.”

Before she knew it, Tommy threw his arms around her. Her hand settled against his small back, and she held him while his breathing grew steadier. At that moment, the weight of his small body against hers stirred an old ache she had learned to push aside whenever children climbed into their mothers’ arms.

She released him before the thought reached the life she believed she would never have.

“Ye are a great lady,” Tommy said as he untied a ribbon from his sleeve and pressed it into her muddy palm. “This is for helpin’ Ness.”

Ceana tied the ribbon around her wrist beside Daphne’s silver ribbons. “Thank ye very much, lad.”

Tommy grinned and gathered Ness against his side. “Me faither commands more men than any laird here. If anyone tries to take it from ye, he will make them sorry.”

“That sounds reassurin’.” Ceana picked up her cloak and settled it over the damaged sleeve. “It also sounds as though ye should return before yer terrifying faither discovers ye are missing.”

“He can find anyone,” Tommy declared proudly. “He always does.”

The boy hurried toward the festival with Ness trotting beside him, and Ceana watched until he passed the nearest guard and disappeared among the tents. His voice carried back to her as he called for his father. 

He should be safe. She didn’t need to worry anymore. Or should she? Should she have made sure he found his father? Should she have⁠—

“Lady Daphne?” a man spoke behind her.

Ceana turned and recognized the gray half-mask. The second man stood several steps to his left, his scarred hands hanging loose at his sides. Together, they blocked the clearest path toward the festival.

The man in gray waited. “Are ye Lady Daphne?”

Ceana could deny it. The truth might send them away, though it could also expose Daphne’s disappearance before Ceana knew whom they served. She tightened her fingers around the edge of the cloak and lifted her chin.

“Aye,” she replied. “Are ye here to take me to me betrothed?”

The men exchanged looks. “Somethin’ like that.”

Nay.

Something was wrong.

She stepped backward, ready to make a run for it, but the scarred man seized her arm while the other pulled a coarse sack from beneath his cloak. She twisted and drove her heel toward the scarred man’s shin, but Daphne’s fine shoe slipped on the uneven ground.

“Careful,” the man in gray snapped. “We were ordered nae to hurt her.”

Ceana drew breath to scream. The sack, however, dropped over her head before the sound escaped. Coarse fabric scraped her face and pressed against her mouth as she fought for air.

She struck at the hands holding her, kicked blindly, and tried to shout that they had made a mistake. One of the men caught her around the waist, and her feet left the ground.

CHAPTER 2

Oscar drew the stone along his blade and listened to the festival beyond the canvas walls of his tent. 

The wave of music rose from the central grounds, broken by laughter whenever someone passed the guarded entrance. The celebrations would end before morning, and Angus MacWatt was expected to leave with a new bride. Oscar intended for him to leave with questions instead.

He turned the blade toward the lamp and inspected the edge. He had sent two men to bring Lady Daphne Tulloch to this tent unharmed. Once she was secured, Angus would receive a message demanding the truth about Muriel. The abduction gave Oscar leverage while avoiding an open challenge during the festival’s safe-conduct week.

Lennan stood near the entrance with his arms folded. “There will be questions once Clan Morrag discovers their lady is missin’.”

“That is the purpose.”

“The rules may keep Angus from drawin’ a sword here, but it willnae keep his faither from callin’ this an insult.”

Oscar set the stone beside its leather wrap. “Then Bryce MacWatt may add his outrage to the growin’ pile of things I daenae care about.”

He had already chosen the guards who would watch Daphne and the route his men would use when they left the festival grounds. The woman would remain comfortable and protected while Angus decided how much Muriel’s safety was worth. Oscar expected frightened protests from a noblewoman who had been taken hours before her betrothal. He had planned for those as well.

Soon enough, the sound of hurried footsteps approached outside. A woman’s muffled cry rose above them, followed by the hard impact of a shoulder or foot against one of the tent supports. The canvas shook.

Oscar stood with the blade still in his hand.

The flap opened, and his men dragged a masked woman inside. One held her by the upper arm while the other pulled the sack from her head. She twisted between them and struck at the scarred man’s chest. He shoved her forward hard enough that she fell on one knee and caught herself with her palm.

Oscar crossed the tent before either man could touch her again. Mud darkened the hem of her green gown, and one sleeve had torn near the wrist. Red marks circled the arm the guard had released.

“I should try this on ye for hurtin’ her,” Oscar grunted, lifting the sharpened blade. “Me order was to bring her. That wasnae hard to do, was it?” 

“She fought us, me Laird,” the scarred man replied, his chest heaving from the struggle. “She nearly took out me eye through the sack.”

Oscar exhaled and threw his head back. “Ye were warned to expect resistance. If two trained men cannae manage one woman without bruisin’ her, then I have chosen the wrong men.”

Both guards lowered their gazes while the captive remained on the ground with one hand closed around her mask. Oscar could see that she was terrified; her slow breathing failed to hide the quick flutter of her pulse.

Lennan stepped closer to the men. “Perhaps ye should wait outside before the Laird decides to test the edge.”

“Leave,” Oscar ordered.

The men obeyed.

Festival music drifted in when the flap opened and died down once the canvas fell closed behind them.

Oscar lowered the blade as the woman pushed herself upright before he could offer assistance. She kept her weight off her scraped hand and positioned herself where she could watch him and the entrance at the same time.

Then she removed her mask.

Long dark hair had loosened around the ties, and the ribbon had left a faint mark across one temple. Her green eyes held anger sharpened by fear, and the fine gown and silver ribbons identified her as the woman Angus intended to marry, though the mud and torn sleeve suggested his men had found her somewhere other than the betrothal gathering.

Oscar noticed the full shape beneath the gown before returning his attention to her face. The lapse irritated him. She was leverage; that was all. No amount of beauty altered the purpose she served.

Her gaze moved over the blade, the scars visible above his collar, and the space between him and the exit. She watched his hands more often than his face. Whatever fear she felt had left her thinking clearly.

“Who are ye?” she asked, her fingers tightening around her mask. “And what do ye want from me?”

“Oscar Barr. Laird MacKane.”

Her breath caught. The reaction was brief, though he saw recognition in the sudden tension in her shoulders.

“I see ye have heard of me,” he said.

“I have heard ye are a ferocious warrior.” She raised her chin and forced her voice to remain even. “Seein’ as this isnae a battlefield, I would like to ken what ye need from me. Then I will leave.”

The audacity in her voice seemed to come more easily to her than pleading. For some rather odd reason, Oscar found he preferred it. It made this entire situation just slightly less unbearable. Just slightly less. 

“Ye are supposed to get betrothed before the festival ends.”

Her gaze dropped to the mask in her hand. “Aye.”

He narrowed his eyes at her reluctance. He could not tell whether it came from fear of Angus or something else entirely. 

“Are ye eager to return to yer intended?” he asked.

Her eyes rose at once. “Whatever I feel about Angus gives ye nay right to put a sack over me head.”

He sighed. “Angus married me sister nearly a year ago. Muriel disappeared from his castle, and the only explanation he offered was a convenient note claimin’ she had chosen another life. Now he intends to take a new bride while I still have nay proof that me sister is safe. So, forgive me if I am nae very keen on lettin’ ye go back out there.”

Some of the anger left the woman’s face. Her scraped hand closed more tightly around the mask, and when she spoke again, the mockery had gone from her voice.

“I have a sister as well,” she mumbled. “And I would do anythin’ to protect her.”

Oscar believed her. The certainty arrived before he could examine why. “Then ye understand me purpose.”

“I understand yer fear. I daenae understand usin’ me to quell it.”

“If ye care so fiercely for yer sister, why would ye willingly marry the man who may have harmed mine?”

Her guarded expression returned. “Family choices are rarely as simple as men like ye make them sound.”

The answer was too vague, and she sounded protective of someone. Oscar could not tell whether it was Angus, her father, or something else. Whatever it was, he had no time to investigate. For now, having her here would have to do. 

He placed his sword on the table and stepped closer. “Angus responds to offenses and pressure. Takin’ the woman he intends to marry will force him to reveal where me sister is.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “So, I am a message.”

“For the moment.”

She advanced one step, bringing them close enough that Oscar could see the uneven knot in the mask ribbon and the mud drying on her fingers. She still looked scared, yet she held his gaze.

“Ye kidnapped me because another man wouldnae answer yer questions.”

“I prevented ye from marrying a dangerous man. Ye should thank me rather than fight me, Lady Daphne.”

Her lips parted in disbelief. “Should I also give ye gifts for kidnapping me?”

Amusement pulled briefly at the corner of Oscar’s mouth. Lennan noticed and wisely turned his attention toward the entrance.

“I am pleased me captivity entertains ye, me Laird. However, I shall leave before ye find another reason to congratulate yerself.”

She turned toward the tent flap, and Oscar moved to halt her. However, before either of them reached the entrance, the canvas lifted, and Tommy ducked inside.

“Faither,” the little boy called.

He stopped just inside the tent and stared at the woman standing near the entrance. His hair was windblown, and a streak of dirt crossed one cheek.

Oscar searched behind him for Ness or some sign of the trouble that usually accompanied him, but the guard outside lowered the flap without allowing the goat through.

The change in Lady Daphne came at once. Her shoulders relaxed, and the anger vanished from her face. She lowered the mask in her hand and turned fully toward the boy.

Tommy seemed to recognize her without the painted leather covering her face. “Did me faither bring ye here to thank ye for savin’ Ness?” Then he bolted across the space between them and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Oscar watched the boy’s hands, then checked the tent flap and glanced toward the table where he had left the sharpened blade. Nothing moved. His son simply held the woman as if finding her again had answered an urgent concern.

Lady Daphne bent and returned the embrace. She placed one hand on Tommy’s back and kept the scraped one away from his clothes. 

“Well met again, sweetness,” she said. “Where is yer troublesome companion?”

“Ness is with the guard. He wouldnae let her inside.” Tommy leaned back and looked up at her. “I told him she is well-behaved now.”

“The guard seems to have excellent judgment.”

Oscar stepped closer. “How do ye ken me son?” The question came sharper than he had intended.

Lady Daphne straightened and shifted slightly, placing herself between Tommy and the table. Her gaze flicked toward the blade before returning to Oscar. The protective movement seemed instinctive, though the weapon lay well beyond the boy’s reach.

“Ness trapped her leg between the roots beyond the supply carts,” Tommy explained, his words gaining speed as he spoke. “I thought it was broken, but she came and pushed the tree apart with her hands.”

“I cleared some soil from beneath the root,” Lady Daphne corrected. “The tree remains where it was.”

“Ye pushed it enough. Ness couldnae move before ye came.”

Tommy caught her injured hand and turned it carefully. The scrape across her palm had reopened during the struggle with Oscar’s men, and a thin line of blood marked the base of her thumb.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked. “Ye hurt it helpin’ Ness.”

“It will heal.”

Oscar looked again at the mud on her gown and the torn stitching near her wrist. 

“Why would ye risk discovery for an animal?” he asked.

Her fingers closed gently around Tommy’s hand before she released it. “The animal was trapped, and Tommy was frightened. What other reason should I require?”

“Everyone else was too busy,” Tommy said. He moved to her side and looked up at Oscar. “She heard me cryin’ and followed me. Then she made me stop so Ness wouldnae be more afraid.”

Oscar’s attention settled on his son. “Where were yer guards?”

Tommy rubbed one foot against the other. “Near the fires.”

“And where were ye told to remain?”

“Near the guards.”

A reprimand would come later, once the boy had slept and the relief of Ness’s rescue had faded. Oscar had occupied himself with arranging a kidnapping while Tommy wandered beyond the crowded grounds and placed himself where no guard could see him. The knowledge tightened his grip on the control he had carried through the evening.

“We will discuss that when we return home,” Oscar said. “Ye will remain with yer guard until then.”

“He only left because Ness ran away,” Lady Daphne interjected. Her voice remained quiet, though she held his gaze. “He was trying to bring her back before she reached the fire.”

“Understandin’ his reason doesnae make it any less reckless.”

“Nay, but it does explain why he disobeyed.”

Oscar studied her. She defended the boy without pretending his choice had been safe. Most people either excused Tommy because of his age or condemned his mischief without asking what had driven it. Lady Daphne had known him for minutes and somehow managed both.

Tommy appeared satisfied that the matter had been settled. “I helped hold Ness still. She said I was brave.”

“Ye were,” Lady Daphne told him. “Once ye stopped panickin’.”

Tommy grinned. “She is a great lady, Faither.”

“So ye have mentioned.”

“She is,” he insisted as Oscar looked between them.

Tommy distrusted unfamiliar women with a thoroughness that had exhausted several members of the household. He rarely accepted kindness without seeing how far he could take it. Now he stood pressed against the captive’s side and spoke as if Oscar required convincing of her virtues.

“And ye are a great lad,” she said.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “A great lad?”

Lady Daphne looked at him as if his disbelief proved some failing in his judgment. “Aye. He is also very sweet.”

“Sweet,” he repeated.

Tommy beamed at the praise, apparently willing to accept a reputation no one at MacKane Castle would recognize.

“The sweetest,” she emphasized. Her hand rested briefly on the boy’s dark hair. “He must take after his maither.”

Oscar went still before he brought the reaction under control. His wife’s exhausted face returned to him, pale against the bed linens after Tommy’s birth. He remembered holding the child while she struggled to draw another breath and how her final words had been too faint for anyone else in the chamber to hear.

Lady Daphne noticed the change in him. Her hand slipped from Tommy’s hair, and she lowered her gaze without asking what wound she had touched.

Tommy remained unaware. “Will ye come and see Ness tomorrow? She likes ye now.”

Lady Daphne’s expression softened as she looked at him. “I would like that, though I cannae stay.”

The answer displeased Tommy, and Oscar found that it displeased him as well. A woman his son trusted could prove useful, especially one who understood the boy’s motives and gained his obedience without bargaining for it.

Oscar needed time to discover whether the bond would survive another meeting. He also wanted time to understand why her courage and wit had altered the purpose of this encounter.

Lady Daphne bent and adjusted Tommy’s collar where it had folded beneath his coat. “Return to yer guard, sweetness. Keep Ness away from the fires and make certain she rests.”

Tommy caught her fingers. “Faither can take ye to our tents. Then ye can see her.”

Her warmth vanished when she looked at Oscar, and the change irritated him more than it should have.

“Yer faither has already done enough for me,” she said. “Perhaps ye can show me the way back to the Morrag tents before ye leave.”

She gave Tommy’s shoulder a final squeeze and moved toward the entrance, but Oscar stepped between her and the flap without touching her. She halted close enough that he could see her breath disturb the loose strand of hair near her mouth. Tommy watched them with open expectation while Lennan remained wisely silent near the tent wall.

“What are ye doin’?” she asked, her voice sharp. 

Oscar straightened and stared straight at her. “’Tis simple, lassie. Now I certainly cannae let ye go.”

CHAPTER 3

Oscar turned away from Ceana and raised one hand toward the MacKane men waiting near the tent wall. The movement dismissed her argument as thoroughly as his body still blocked the entrance. He believed she was Daphne Tulloch, the woman Angus MacWatt expected to claim before the festival ended, and his next order made clear that he intended to act upon that belief.

“Prepare the carriage,” he ordered. “We leave as soon as the horses are ready.”

Ceana stared at his back. She had expected another threat or more questions about Angus. A carriage meant Oscar intended to remove her from the festival before her parents discovered she was gone. Once he carried her beyond the grounds, the safe-conduct agreement between the gathered clans would offer her little protection.

She watched as he looked toward the man called Lennan. “Send word to Angus. Tell him that his intended is under me protection. I will claim the match before the festival closes.”

Lennan’s expression remained controlled, though his attention shifted briefly toward Ceana. “Do ye mean to call her yer match, me Laird, or yer hostage?”

“Me match.”

The answer tightened Ceana’s chest. A public claim made during the Leanan Festival does not constitute marriage, but it would place both clans under the eyes of every witness present. Angus would hear that his intended had accepted protection from another laird. Her father would be forced to prepare for a battle she had never meant to cause.

Oscar continued watching her as he gave the order. “Make certain Angus understands that any attempt to take her will be treated as an aggression against Clan MacKane.”

Lennan lowered his head.

Ceana crossed the short space before she could consider the wisdom of touching a man who had kidnapped her. She caught Oscar’s hand just as he began to dismiss Lennan.

His fingers were warm beneath hers and rough from years of sword work, while her hand looked small around the base of his thumb. He went completely still, and every man in the tent followed his gaze to where she held him.

Ceana noticed the contact only after the entire tent had fallen quiet. She stood close enough to see the dark stubble along his jaw and the faint scar disappearing beneath his collar. Her body registered his size and the steady strength of the hand she had seized. She knew very well that escape would be tricky, if not impossible. 

So she released him. The absence of contact came too quickly, and she curled her fingers against her palm as if the movement could erase the sensation.

“Stop these preparations,” she demanded. “Ye have misunderstood everythin’.”

Oscar’s attention sharpened on her face. He offered no jest about her touching him. “I understand that Angus intended to marry ye and that ye are safer away from him.”

“Ye put a sack over me head, declared me yers, and ordered men to remove me from me family. Is that what ye call protection?”

He nodded. “Yer faither will receive a formal contract.”

The sack had frightened her because it had taken her sight, leaving her helpless in the hands of strangers. The contract, on the other hand, frightened her in a different way.

Her father would have to choose between refusing a powerful laird and accepting the damage already done to her reputation. Who knew what would even happen when they found out that Daphne was missing and that she had taken her place.

“And do I have any say in this contract?” she asked.

“Ye may begin by tellin’ me what ye have concealed since ye were brought into this tent.”

Outside, a man called for the horses to be brought around. Another voice repeated the name Lady Daphne as orders passed between the guards. Every moment Ceana delayed allowed the lie to spread further.

She glanced at Lennan. “Before I tell ye, promise that what I say will remain inside this tent.”

Oscar folded his arms. “I willnae promise secrecy before I ken whether yer secret threatens me clan or me family.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

“Aye.”

“That’s where ye draw the line? Promises are impossible for ye, yet orders seem remarkably easy?”

“Speak, lass.” His voice remained low. 

Ceana would almost have preferred a shout. Anger could be answered with anger, while his control left her with nothing to push against.

She looked toward the tent flap and thought of Daphne somewhere beyond the festival, perhaps riding south or hiding in a village where no one knew her name. Confessing might send men after her. Silence would allow Oscar to announce a false match and turn her disappearance into a public war against Angus. Ceana had to pick the lesser evil. 

“I am nae the woman ye think I am,” she eventually admitted.

Oscar’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

She forced the truth past the tightness in her throat. “I am nae Daphne.”

His faint amusement disappeared. He studied her face as if the mask might still conceal something, though it lay on the table behind her.

“Who are ye, then?”

“Ceana. Ceana Tulloch. Daphne is me sister.”

He turned fully toward her, his gaze moving over the dark green gown and the silver ribbons before settling on her face.

“We are twins,” Ceana continued. “Daphne has freckles across her cheeks and nose. The mask covered them, and everyone saw her clothes before they looked closely at the woman wearin’ them.”

Oscar’s expression revealed little. “Where is she?”

“I daenae ken.”

His jaw tightened. “Why do I nae believe that?”

“She fled last night,” Ceana said quickly. “I found her tent empty before dawn. She left no destination and no word of who had gone with her. The betrothal was meant to happen today, and I thought I could delay it long enough to buy her time.”

“By takin’ her place?”

“I wore her gown and mask. I allowed people to call me by her name. Nobody questioned it because they expected to see Daphne.”

The admission carried an old humiliation she had never spoken aloud. The guests had recognized Daphne’s colors, and the woman promised to Angus. No one had examined her closely enough to discover her beneath the mask.

Oscar moved nearer. “Why would yer sister flee a marriage yer faither arranged?”

“That is her truth to tell. All ye need to understand is that ye have taken the wrong woman.”

His gaze traveled over her face again, slower this time. Ceana resisted the urge to lower her eyes.

“Angus wanted Daphne,” she said. “The agreement concerns Daphne. Takin’ me gives ye nay leverage over him.”

The argument should have relieved her. Proving herself useless to Oscar was the surest path to freedom. Still, the word pressed upon every offer that had gone to her sister and every discussion of heirs that had ended when Ceana entered a room.

“Nay one intends to marry me,” she continued. “Nobody will care that ye stole me.”

Oscar looked at her as if the claim made less sense than the deception.

“What happens when Angus learns Daphne has fled?” she asked. “Yer message will make him believe she accepted another man before disappearin’. He may send people after her.”

“I will handle Angus.”

The certainty of his answer tempted her to believe him. Oscar possessed the power to make such a promise more than empty comfort, though he had also created the immediate danger.

Beyond the tent, harness buckles clinked, and wheels shifted across the uneven ground. The carriage preparations continued. He had heard the truth and had yet to cancel the order.

Ceana had destroyed his reason for taking her. All that remained was for him to acknowledge his mistake and let her go.

Because he had no use for her. Not even one bit. 

Right?

Instead, he held her gaze while the carriage wheels rolled across the ground outside. He had heard her confession, yet the men continued preparing to leave as though nothing had changed. Lennan remained standing beside the tent entrance with the message for Angus still in his hand, waiting for an order.

“When did Daphne flee?” Oscar asked.

“Like I said earlier, me Laird, last night. I found her tent empty before dawn.”

“Did she take a horse?”

“I daenae ken. I told ye she left nay explanation.”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed. “Think carefully.”

“I have done little else since she disappeared.” Ceana kept her voice level, though frustration tightened her throat. “If I kent where she had gone, I would be searchin’ for her instead of standin’ inside yer tent.”

His attention shifted toward Lennan. Ceana expected him to cancel the carriage and destroy the message intended for Angus. Lennan seemed to expect the same.

Before either man moved, a rope creaked near the side of the tent. Tommy had wandered away from the adults. He had wrapped both hands around one of the taut support ropes and placed his boot against a fastening knot. With a determined pull, he lifted himself off the ground.

Ceana turned fully toward him. “Tommy.”

The boy glanced over his shoulder while keeping his weight on the rope. “The MacKane warriors climb the castle walls durin’ trainin’. Faither says I can learn when I am older.”

The rope strained beneath him. He had already climbed high enough that a fall would drive him onto one of the wooden stakes securing the tent. If he loosened the knot beneath his foot, half the canvas wall could collapse.

“Sweetness, come down,” Ceana coaxed. She kept her tone calm and crossed only far enough to stand beneath him. “That rope is holdin’ the tent. Ness will need ye uninjured durin’ the journey.”

Tommy looked toward Oscar. Every man inside the tent now watched him, and pride stiffened the boy’s small shoulders. Ceana expected an argument. Instead, he lowered one foot, found the ground, and released the rope.

The guards stopped moving. Lennan stared at Tommy, then at Ceana. Even Oscar’s expression shifted as his gaze settled on his son.

One of the men near the entrance muttered, “He never listens the first time.”

As Oscar turned his head, the guard closed his mouth and lowered his gaze to the floor.

Tommy came to Ceana with his hands folded before him. His pleased expression suggested he understood that he had done something worthy of notice, though she could not understand why several armed men seemed to think some ordinary obedience was a feat.

“What a good bairn,” she cooed.

She crouched and checked his palms for rope burns. The skin remained unmarked, and his knees showed no fresh scrapes. She gently pinched one cheek before releasing him.

“Ye arenae like yer faither at all.”

Tommy laughed.

Oscar’s eyes narrowed, though the faint twitch near his mouth left Ceana uncertain whether he had taken offense or not.

“I am like Faither,” Tommy declared. “I can climb almost as high as he can.”

“Then it is fortunate I stopped ye before ye got too high, is it nae?”

Tommy accepted that with a solemn nod. His attention then moved toward the activity outside, where a groom called for another horse to be brought around.

“Are ye comin’ with us?” he asked.

Ceana rose. “I expect to return to me family.”

“Ness needs ye. Her leg may hurt again.”

“Yer guards will find someone to examine her.”

Tommy looked to Oscar for confirmation.

The question should have been simple. Ceana had admitted the truth, and Oscar had lost any reason to carry her away. Lennan opened his mouth to speak, but Oscar silenced him with a glance.

“Hurry with the carriage,” he ordered.

The guards moved at once. One lifted a travel chest from beside the tent wall while another went outside. Lennan remained where he was, the unfinished message still held between his fingers. His eyes rested on Oscar almost like he knew better than to challenge him before the others.

Ceana stepped closer to Oscar. “Did ye hear anythin’ I told ye?”

“Aye.”

“Angus is expectin’ Daphne.”

“I ken.”

“I am Ceana. Takin’ me gives ye nay leverage over him.”

Oscar’s attention remained fixed on her. His gaze moved briefly to Tommy before returning to her face. Whatever he had seen when she called the boy down had altered something, though she could not determine what.

“So cancel the carriage,” she said. “Send me back to the Morrag tents and decide how ye intend to remedy the insult ye have already caused.”

Tommy moved closer and slipped his hand into hers. The gesture stirred the old ache beneath her ribs, but she kept her attention on his father.

Oscar looked at their joined hands, his expression unfathomable.

“Keepin’ me makes nay sense,” she continued. “Ye have nay quarrel with me. I cannae tell ye where Daphne has gone, and I cannae force Angus to speak about yer sister. Whatever ye believed ye could gain from this ended when I told ye me name.”

Oscar shifted slightly. “But then ye helped me son without kennin’ who he was.”

Ceana shrugged, letting a brief moment of silence pass. “His goat was trapped. Anyone would’ve done the same.”

“He wouldnae have listened to anyone, though.”

Tommy nodded as if the matter required no further explanation. “She asked nicely.”

Ceana looked at Oscar. “There. Yer mystery has been solved. May I leave now?”

Oscar moved toward her with the same purpose he had shown when ordering the carriage. He stopped close enough to force her to tilt her head back, yet he kept his hands at his sides. The lack of touch made his attention harder to dismiss. He had learned she carried no political value and had chosen to keep her anyway.

Fear gathered differently now. She had understood the purpose of being mistaken for Daphne. She could not understand what this man wanted from her now.

“I wouldnae care if ye told me ye were the Queen of England,” he said.

Ceana tightened her fingers around Tommy’s small hand. “Yer plan has failed.”

Oscar regarded her with a calm that made the decision all the more alarming. “I can always come up with a new plan.”

She swallowed, watching him take a breath before he spoke again. 

“But for now, I’m keepin’ ye.”

CHAPTER 4

Ceana pulled the hem of her gown from Ness’s mouth as the carriage hit another rut. 

The goat braced her small hooves against the floor and held fast, apparently determined to carry part of the garment to MacKane Castle. Ceana tugged again and recovered the damp cloth with another row of loose threads along its edge.

Daphne is goin’ to kill me when she sees this. 

“Yer sister must have chosen a tasty gown,” Tommy commented from the opposite bench. He gathered Ness against his side before she could lunge for the gown again. “She only eats things she likes.”

“Well, she will be delighted to learn that one of her finest gowns earned a goat’s approval.” Ceana smoothed the ruined fabric across her knees and tried not to wonder whether she would see her sister soon enough to tell her.

The rhythmic sound of horses’ hooves kept pace beside the carriage, and Oscar rode close enough that his low instructions to the driver carried through the wooden wall.

Ceana measured every question before asking Tommy anything about the road or MacKane Castle. Oscar had learned she was the wrong sister and taken her anyway. Giving him reason to suspect an escape plan would earn her another guard.

Tommy patted Ness’s head. “Daenae worry, I daenae think me faither attacks lassies. Only bad men.”

Ceana considered the reassurance. She had lied about her identity, interfered with Oscar’s plan, insulted him several times, and rejected every order that concerned her freedom.

“How does he decide who is bad?” she asked.

“He always kens,” Tommy spoke with complete faith. “Faither defeats enemies and protects everyone in our clan. He can fight three men at once.”

He rose from his seat and raised one arm as though holding a sword. Ness shifted while Tommy demonstrated a sweeping strike that nearly caught the curtain. The carriage wheel dropped into a hollow, throwing him sideways.

Ceana caught his shoulder before his head struck the wall. “Sit down, sweetness. Ye will hurt yerself if ye fight battles while the ground is movin’.”

Tommy looked toward the window as though considering whether an unseen enemy required one final blow. After a moment, he lowered himself onto the bench.

“Ye are right,” he said.

Ceana released him and settled back.

Outside, Oscar’s horse drew closer. His shadow passed across the curtain before he signaled the driver to slow down.

The carriage door opened while they were still rolling at a steady pace. Oscar handed his horse’s reins to one of the mounted guards, caught the frame, and pulled himself inside with practiced ease. His shoulders nearly filled the doorway, and his sword struck lightly against the bench as he turned.

Tommy and Ness occupied the opposite seat, leaving him no place except beside Ceana. He adjusted the sword so its hilt faced away from her, then sat close enough that his cloak brushed her gown. Ceana shifted toward the wall. The carriage swayed, and his knee touched hers before he braced one boot against the floor.

At such proximity, the dark wool of his coat showed the breadth of his shoulders and followed the firm shape of his forearms. His thighs filled the narrow space beneath his sword belt when he steadied himself, and she hated that she noticed it. 

“So tell me. How did ye do it?” Oscar asked.

Ceana frowned. “Do what?”

“Tommy.” He glanced at his son. “How did he listen to ye?”

“I just asked him.”

Oscar waited. When Ceana offered nothing further, he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “That was all?”

“He understood that standin’ was dangerous. Askin’ him to sit required nay great strategy.”

Oscar studied Tommy as though the boy had performed an act beyond explanation. Ceana could see his bafflement in the slight furrow between his eyebrows, though she had no idea what had caused it.

“I wouldnae trust that innocent manner,” he said quietly. “The last person he smiled at disappeared for two days. When we found the man, he refused to explain where Tommy had sent him.”

Ceana searched his face for amusement but found none. “Are ye jestin’?”

“He was found,” Tommy interjected. “And I didnae send him far.”

“That is comfortin’.” Ceana turned back to Oscar. “Perhaps yer son inherited his manners from ye after all.”

The corner of Oscar’s mouth twitched before he smoothed it as another rut pushed their knees together. He made no immediate effort to move his leg.

Ceana swallowed, trying not to show how briefly her heart had jumped. 

“Me family doesnae ken where I am,” she said. “They daenae ken whether I am safe or why I vanished.”

“Daenae worry. Yer faither will receive me message and a formal contract later.”

“A contract willnae undo what ye have done. It will force him to answer a powerful laird after ye took his daughter from a festival.”

Oscar’s gaze remained steady. “We will discuss the terms at the castle.”

“And if I refuse every term? Do I have any say?” she asked, her voice rising enough for Tommy to hear.

The boy looked between them with a frown. “That isnae fair, Faither,” he said. “When Paisley and I quarrel, ye listen to both sides before decidin’ who gets punished.”

“Ye are usually the one punished, though, because ye are usually the one teasin’ yer sister.”

Tommy considered this. “Are ye teasin’ her, then? Ye took her away and willnae listen.”

Heat spread from Ceana’s chest up to her neck. Tommy’s innocent question made the cramped bench and Oscar’s thigh against hers seem far more intimate.

Oscar’s gaze paused on the color in her face before lifting slowly to meet her eyes. “I am offerin’ her a choice,” he corrected. “She may become the lady of one of the strongest clans in the Highlands.”

“A choice generally implies more than one permitted answer,” Ceana pointed out.

Oscar held her gaze for another moment. “Rest. We will speak properly when we reach MacKane Castle.”

He stepped out and reclaimed his horse. The space beside Ceana opened, though warmth remained where his body had pressed against the bench.

Evening had darkened by the time the carriage stopped beside a narrow burn. The guards surrounded the road while the horses drank. Ceana studied the unfamiliar hills beyond them. She had no cloak suited for travel, no food, and no knowledge of the route. Running into the darkness would also leave Tommy alone among men too occupied to notice him climbing ropes.

Oscar approached with bread and a cup of water. He held them toward her without apology.

Ceana folded her arms. “I am nae hungry.”

He set both on the carriage step and walked away to question the driver.

Tommy took the cup and carried it to her. “Ye need water after helpin’ Ness and travelin’ all this way.”

Ceana accepted it.

Across the road, Oscar checked the horses and spoke to the guard responsible for Tommy. He crouched briefly to examine Ness’s freed leg before ordering food brought for his son.

They resumed their journey after nightfall. Tommy soon curled up beside Ceana, with his head resting against her arm, while Ness settled across their feet.

Ceana watched the dark road through the curtain and counted the mounted guards whenever moonlight revealed them. Somewhere behind them, her parents might already know she had vanished. Angus might believe Daphne had publicly rejected him for Oscar.

Tommy slept safely against her as Oscar rode beside the carriage through the night. Soon enough, she dozed off as well, the thought of what to expect in MacKane Castle lulling her to sleep. 

The morning light entered through a gap in the curtain and woke Ceana with an ache running from her neck to the base of her spine. Tommy slept against her arm, his mouth slightly open, while Ness shifted across their feet and lifted her nose toward the window.

Ceana moved carefully to keep from waking the boy and looked outside as the road climbed toward MacKane Castle.

Oh.

The castle stood on a rocky rise behind thick stone walls. Occupied towers guarded the approach, and smoke rose from several working chimneys. Men watched from the gatehouse as Oscar’s party crossed the final stretch of the road. They recognized the riders before the carriage stopped, and the gates opened without delay.

Inside the walls, stablehands waited in the busy courtyard while servants gathered near the entrance. The order of their movements told Ceana more about Oscar’s authority than another threat could have. No one shouted for instructions. They appeared to know where the horses belonged and which men required attention.

Tommy stirred when the carriage turned into the yard. He sat upright and pushed the curtain aside. “Paisley will want to see Ness. She will pretend she doesnae, but she will.”

Ness bleated as if agreeing.

A stable boy hurried toward the carriage before it stopped and called the goat by name. Tommy opened the door too soon, forcing the boy outside to catch it before it struck him.

Oscar reached them before the boy could offer Ceana his assistance. He opened the door fully and held out his hand.

Ceana looked at it. Accepting help from the man who had abducted her seemed an unnecessary surrender. The carriage step sat further below than she remembered, however, and her legs had stiffened during the night. So she placed her hand in his.

A pale scar crossed the back of his hand and disappeared near his wrist. His grip closed around hers with steady warmth as she moved toward the step. When her foot touched the ground, her tired leg buckled.

Oscar caught her at the waist. Her free hand landed against his chest. Solid muscle beneath dark wool stopped her fall, and his other hand remained firm around hers. For one breath, she stood close enough to see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes and feel the warmth of his body beneath her palm.

He released her once her feet were steady.

Ceana stepped away and smoothed down her damaged gown. The quick retreat pulled at the stiffness in her back, though she refused to acknowledge it beneath his attention.

“Prepare a warm bath and bring food to the east chamber,” Oscar told the nearest maid. “She is to rest before comin’ to me study.”

The maid immediately scurried away to carry out his order.

Several servants glanced at Ceana before lowering their eyes. Their interest made it clear that Oscar rarely returned with an unfamiliar woman wearing a muddy, torn gown.

“We will speak once ye have rested,” he told her.

Ceana adjusted the cloak over her ruined sleeve. “I was afraid ye might forget.”

His gaze paused on her face before he turned toward the castle entrance. Ceana followed, with Tommy and Ness beside her. It was eerie to think of what awaited her somewhere inside the castle. 

A blonde-haired girl stood near the doors with her hands folded at her waist. She looked to be about twelve and wore a neat blue gown. Her careful posture reminded Ceana of someone waiting to be examined.

“Welcome home, Faither,” she said as Oscar approached.

“Paisley.” He stopped in front of her. “Have ye been well?”

“Aye, Faither.”

“And yer lessons?”

“I finished them.”

He gave a brief nod.

The greeting contained no easy embrace, and Paisley made no move to ask for one. She looked toward Ceana instead, her warm brown eyes passing quietly over the torn cuff and scraped hand.

Tommy rushed forward and ran one hand over Paisley’s carefully arranged hair. Several blonde strands fell across her face.

“Tommy!” she protested.

He laughed and tried to retreat behind Ness. Ceana caught his shoulder before he escaped. She lowered herself to his height, though her knees objected to the movement. “Was that polite?”

Tommy glanced at Paisley’s ruined hair. “Nay.”

“Then why did ye do it?”

“Because he hates me,” Paisley said before Tommy could respond. She tucked the loose strands behind her ear with practiced care.

“I daenae hate ye,” Tommy replied.

“Ye always ruin me things.”

“I do that because ye become cross.”

“That proves it.”

Tommy’s face tightened. “I only touched yer hair because I missed ye.” He covered his mouth after the confession.

The stable boy paused beside Ness, and one of the servants near the door looked away too late. Even Oscar’s expression changed, though Ceana could not tell whether surprise or concern caused the slight furrow between his eyebrows.

Paisley studied her brother. Tommy kept both hands over his mouth and stared down at the floor.

She stepped closer and straightened the collar of his travel coat. “I missed ye too.”

Tommy lowered his hands as she took Ness’s lead from him and faced the entrance before anyone could give his admission further attention.

Ceana rose slowly, taking in the view before her and what it meant. Tommy seemed to turn affection into mischief because direct words embarrassed him. Paisley protected herself through careful behavior and had protected her brother with a small gesture that drew every eye away from him. Ceana had known them for too little time to understand more.

Oscar looked at her. His attention had sharpened while she watched the children, and she wondered whether she had seen something he preferred strangers to miss.

“Take them inside,” he instructed a maid. He turned to Ceana once Tommy and Paisley had gone ahead. “Eat. Bathe. Then come to me study.”

The order followed her through the entrance hall and up the stairs. The maid assigned to her led her along stone passageways filled with servants. Armed men occupied the lower passages, while baskets of fresh linen moved toward the family chambers. Few objects seemed to exist only for display.

The east chamber had been prepared quickly. A low fire burned in the grate, and clean clothes waited on a chest.

Ceana had barely crossed the threshold when the maid began looking under the bed. She checked behind the curtains next and examined the bed hangings. Ceana watched her test the top of the wardrobe door with cautious fingers.

“What are ye searchin’ for?” she asked.

The maid kept her attention on the doorframe. “I am ensurin’ the chamber is safe, me Lady.”

“Safe from whom?”

The maid opened the wardrobe. A wooden mouse dropped from above on a length of cord and swung inches from her face. She caught it without flinching, though her mouth tightened.

“Master Tommy,” she muttered.

Ceana stared at the carved mouse. “He left that here?”

“A previous guest discovered it less calmly.” The maid untied the cord and slipped the toy into her apron. “I would check yer shoes before puttin’ them on as well.”

Oscar’s warning in the carriage returned to Ceana with greater credibility. Tommy’s innocent smile was not innocent at all. 

The maid inspected the bed curtains one final time. “Yer bath will be ready shortly. The chamber is probably safe now.”

She left carrying the wooden mouse.

Ceana watched the door close behind her and looked toward the clean gown waiting on the chest. It was quite fascinating how quickly the room had been prepared for her. However, she couldn’t tell what it would turn into later. 

If she would remain here as a guest or captive.

CHAPTER 5

Later that evening, Ceana followed the housekeeper down the upper corridor with her freshly washed hair hanging damp against her back. 

The borrowed gown fit well enough, though its unfamiliar sleeves rubbed the scrapes on her palm and the clean fabric beneath it pressed against muscles made sore by the journey. A warm bath, food, and an hour beside the chamber fire had softened her exhaustion. 

The elderly housekeeper walked at a steady pace. Her ring of keys and the authority with which servants moved aside suggested she had served at MacKane Castle long enough to command most of it without raising her voice.

“Master Tommy has asked twice whether ye will be at breakfast,” she revealed as they approached the stairs. “He also wishes to ken when ye will visit Ness.”

Ceana curled her hand into her skirt. “His faither may decide I am too dangerous for breakfast.”

The housekeeper glanced at her. “The boy has met many people brought here by his faither. He has asked after only a few of them.”

“I see,” Ceana uttered, though it still bothered her how Tommy’s obedience continued to be a huge matter. 

They reached the study door, and the housekeeper knocked before opening it. “Lady Ceana has traveled through the night, me Laird. She requires rest.”

“This will take only as long as she requires,” Oscar assured her.

The housekeeper stepped in far enough to place a second cup beside the whisky decanter, and the look she gave him carried a familiarity few people seemed willing to show him. She withdrew without another word and closed the door behind Ceana.

The quiet click of the lock left her alone with Oscar.

His study was larger than the festival tent, though the same discipline seemed to surround it. Ledgers lay aligned on a broad desk, and maps had been secured flat beneath polished stones.

A locked chest stood near the wall, and two swords rested on a rack within easy reach. The only object that seemed to have wandered into the room without any purpose was a small carved horse beside the inkpot, its legs cut at uneven lengths.

Oscar stood near the desk with a cup of whisky. His sword belt and traveling coat had been discarded. A dark waistcoat fitted closely across his shoulders, and the sleeves of his linen shirt followed the solid shape of his forearms. Rest had restored Ceana’s ability to notice how thoroughly he filled his clothes. She resented the improvement.

Focus, Ceana. Focus.

“Whisky?” he asked, indicating the second cup.

Ceana considered refusing but realized that standing before him with empty hands would leave him free to see how unsettled the closed door made her.

“A small amount,” she responded instead. 

Oscar poured without comment and held out the cup. Ceana took it without touching his fingers, and the whisky burned across her tongue and settled warmly in her chest. She kept her face composed while he watched her drink.

“The contract is there,” he said.

A sheet of parchment waited at the center of the desk. Ceana approached and saw Daphne’s name struck through with one precise line. Her own had been written above it in a firm hand.

Ceana Tulloch.

“Ye amended this yerself,” she remarked.

Oscar shrugged. “I prefer to read important terms before signin’ me name beneath them.”

Ceana set down her whisky and leaned over the parchment. It remained a working draft, with space left for additions and formal witnesses.

The contract, named Clan Morrag, promised MacKane protection once a marriage had been properly declared. Another clause granted her authority over her personal attendants and the women serving in the household.

The document could not be used to marry her off without her agreement. It could make refusal far more difficult once her father received it.

“Why are ye continuin’ with this?” she asked. “Ye took me because ye believed I was Angus’s bride. I am neither his bride nor useful leverage.”

“I still need a wife.”

That made her look up. Oscar stood across the desk with one hand resting beside the parchment.

“Why?”

“MacKane Castle needs a lady.”

“If ye require someone to watch Tommy, employ a governess.”

Oscar lifted his cup. “Ye seem to be the only woman capable of survivin’ him.”

Ceana laughed before she could stop herself. The sound was too loud for the quiet room, and she covered her mouth with one hand. Oscar’s cup paused halfway to his lips.

“Survive Tommy?” she snorted. “He is five years old.”

“He has sent away three governesses.”

Her laughter returned. “Three?”

“And two women I considered marryin’.”

Ceana pictured Tommy standing before a procession of severe women, his innocent smile concealing whatever plan had sent each one fleeing from MacKane Castle. She gripped the edge of the desk as laughter shook through her again.

Oscar watched her with a stillness that made her aware of how rarely sound might enter this room. He did not appear offended. The faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested that he understood the absurdity and refused to grant it more than that.

“What did he do to them?” she asked.

“That question would require a longer discussion.”

Ceana tried to control herself and failed when Oscar remained entirely serious. “Perhaps ye should stop allowin’ him access to wooden toys and unattended animals.”

“Trust me, I had considered that.”

She looked at him. “But ye encouraged him, did ye nae?” 

Oscar blinked. “What?”

“Please. I can see it in yer eyes. Ye disliked the women.” 

Oscar took a measured sip. “That doesnae prove I was involved.”

“Well, it proves ye arenae innocent.” 

His gaze held hers over the rim of his cup. “Ye are remarkably comfortable accusin’ a laird in his own study.”

“Ye kidnapped me. We’re past comfort.”

Her humor ebbed as she looked again at the contract. Three governesses and two prospective brides had entered Tommy’s life and disappeared from it. The maid searching her new chamber had treated the child’s tricks as an expected hazard. Paisley had greeted her father with the formal care of someone determined to cause no difficulty.

Whatever Tommy had done, he had watched women arrive, judge his behavior, and leave. Ceana could understand the need beneath the mischief without approving the danger of his tricks.

Oscar set down his cup. “A governess cannae serve the clan publicly. I require a lady capable of managin’ the household and standin’ beside me when duty requires it. Me children need someone they can trust.”

“And ye believe that person is me because Tommy sat when I asked him to?”

“He listened to ye more in one day than he listens to most people in a month.”

Ceana could see what Oscar would gain. The contract would give him a lady for his castle and someone willing to care for his children. It would also mend the insult he had caused by carrying a Morrag daughter from the festival.

She lifted her whisky and took another small sip before placing the cup beside the parchment. The warmth helped steady her voice.

“Marriage gives ye everythin’ ye require,” she said. “But what does it give me?”

Oscar’s attention settled fully on her. Ceana rested both hands on the desk and held his gaze across the contract bearing her name.

“What do ye offer me, me Laird?”

Oscar’s hand shifted beside the contract, though his gaze remained on her. The fire crackled behind him and warmed the side of her borrowed gown while she waited for an answer to the question he had avoided since the festival.

“As Lady MacKane, ye would be protected from any match arranged without yer consent,” he began. “Nay man would lay claim to ye even with Clan Morrag’s agreement.”

Ceana almost laughed. “Unwanted matches have never troubled me.”

Oscar lifted his cup. “Then ye have been fortunate.”

“Me Laird, ye daenae understand.” She kept both hands on the desk, giving them a steady place to rest. “I am already unwanted.”

She let the words hang between them.

Marriage offers had always arrived for Daphne. Contracts named her, and visiting men had watched her while Ceana sat close enough to hear them discuss beauty and heirs. She had always disappeared into the background and only recently had decided to stop having a problem with it. 

Oscar set down his whisky. His gaze moved over Ceana’s face and then slowly lowered to the borrowed gown before returning to her eyes. Heat crept up her cheeks, and the fabric suddenly felt too tight.

“I find that hard to believe,” he said, and the certainty in his voice unsettled her more than anything. For one brief moment, she actually believed he meant it.

“MacKane lands are far from Morrag,” she replied. “I suppose news travels slowly.”

“What news would make a man overlook—” Oscar stopped. His fingers tightened once around the edge of the desk before he released it. “Ye asked what I offer. How about I help ye find yer sister?”

Ceana swallowed and felt the room close in on her. How had she not thought of that before?

She took a breath. “And how do ye intend to do that?”

Oscar raised a hand, gesturing to the path outside the castle. “I have men and allies along the roads from the festival. They can search without declarin’ Daphne a fugitive or deliverin’ her to Angus.”

Ceana folded her arms across her chest. This was a nice proposition, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “And when ye find her?”

Oscar’s expression did not shift. “That depends on what she wants.”

“What if, say, she wants to remain hidden?”

“Then she will remain hidden.”

“Even if Angus demands her return?”

“Ye seem to overestimate how much power Angus has compared to me.”

Ceana searched his face for hesitation and found none. “Me faither may demand her return as well.”

“He may speak with me about that as well.”

She frowned, deciding to press further. “And what if Daphne wants to live somewhere else?”

“Then me protection will extend there. If she prefers MacKane Castle, she may live here without takin’ a husband.”

The guarded walls Ceana had entered that morning took on another meaning. She pictured Daphne passing through the gate alive, free from Angus’s claim and protected from the contract their father feared breaking. She had tried to buy her sister a single day. Oscar offered to give her a future.

“What do ye expect from me beyond managin’ Tommy?” she asked.

Oscar looked toward the parchment. “We will share public duties and responsibility for the household. Ye will have authority over yer attendants and the servants assigned to ye. Ye may correspond with Clan Morrag.”

Ceana heard the limit clearly. “Until then, I remain yer captive.”

“That word sounds so serious, do ye nae think?”

She disliked the answer, though he had made no effort to disguise it.

“What kind of marriage do ye intend to have?” she pressed. “Because all I’ve heard so far is a lady for yer castle and a guardian for yer children.”

Oscar held her gaze. “That is accurate.” 

She hated how his honesty chafed at her. 

“We will keep separate chambers and separate private lives,” he continued. “I have nay need for a wife to care for beyond the duties we agree upon.”

Ceana’s fingers curled against her chest. “How convenient for ye.”

“It will protect both of us from expectations neither has chosen.”

“What expectations?”

“More children.” His voice remained level. “I already have an heir. I willnae ask ye to provide another, and I willnae come to yer bed for that purpose.”

That struck a place Ceana had kept hidden even from Daphne. She had believed her inability to bear children would prevent any man from choosing her. Oscar had removed that obstacle while confirming that their marriage would contain none of the tenderness or children she had trained herself to stop wanting.

“I wouldnae worry about that,” she said, bitterness sharpening the words before she could smooth them away. 

Oscar’s eyes narrowed, and his hand paused near the contract. “What do ye mean?”

Ceana reached for her whisky again and took a small sip. The burn gave her time to turn her attention toward the parchment. “I mean ye have stated yer terms. I am considerin’ them.”

Returning home would expose Daphne. Remaining gave Ceana protection and a place beside two children who had already begun asking whether she would stay. The price was a marriage stripped of every hope she believed was beyond her reach anyway.

She set the cup down. “Any message to me faither must say that I agreed after negotiatin’ with ye. He must ken that I am safe.”

Oscar nodded his head. “Agreed.”

“Ye will search for Daphne and protect her wherever she chooses to live.”

“Aye.”

“Ye will refuse any attempt to force her into marriage, whether it comes from Angus, his faither, or mine.”

“Me word stands.”

Ceana drew a breath. “Then I accept the proposed marriage on those terms.”

Oscar’s attention sharpened. “Ye agree freely?”

“Aye. On the terms we have named.”

He extended his hand across the contract, and Ceana placed hers in it. His palm was broad and rough, warmed by the fire and the cup he had held earlier.

The handshake should have ended at once, but neither of them released the other.

Ceana felt her pulse beneath the fingers resting against her wrist. The closed door and late hour returned to her awareness as Oscar watched her across the parchment. His thumb shifted once against her knuckles, a movement small enough to have been accidental.

She withdrew her hand first and held it against her waist.

“A final copy will be prepared at first light,” Oscar said. “It will state yer consent and the terms we agreed upon. Formal declarations and witnesses will follow.”

Ceana nodded and then left.

The housekeeper waited a short distance down the passageway, her attention moving from Ceana’s warm face to the closed door behind her.

“Do ye require anythin’, me Lady?” she asked.

“Sleep. Lots of it.”

The older woman touched her arm briefly before leading her toward the stairs.

Ceana kept one hand closed around the one Oscar had shaken. Before she reached the first step, his voice carried from the study as he summoned Lennan and ordered the final contract prepared at dawn.

There was no going back now.

CHAPTER 6

Ceana stopped beside the chair at Oscar’s right hand. 

Is this really necessary?

At supper the previous evening, she had eaten alone in her chamber. This morning, the servants had given her the position of a future wife before the household had heard the official announcement.

A maid adjusted the cup near her plate and withdrew. Two others continued setting breakfast on the sideboard, though their gazes flicked between Ceana and Oscar. Meanwhile, the housekeeper supervised them slowly from the far end of the room.

Oscar sat at the head of the table as if returning from a festival with an unexpected bride belonged to the ordinary business of ruling MacKane Castle. When he reached for his cup, Ceana remembered those same fingers closing around hers across the contract. The memory brought warmth to her palm before she pressed it against her gown.

She took the chair without asking whether she should.

Paisley sat straight-backed across from her, already dressed for lessons. Tommy occupied the chair beside his sister, while Ness hid beneath the table. The boy tore a piece from his oatcake and lowered one hand.

Oscar looked at him.

Tommy placed the oatcake on his own plate and whispered to the tablecloth, “He saw me.”

Paisley nudged his cup closer before he could spill it with his elbow. The small correction seemed seamless, as if she’d done it many times before. Tommy drank and left a pale line of milk across his upper lip.

Once the servants had finished pouring ale and setting down the warm dishes, Oscar placed his cup on the table.

“Ceana Tulloch will become Lady MacKane,” he announced. “We will marry in one week.”

Ceana turned toward him. She had agreed to the marriage and the terms in the drafted contract, but she had not agreed to marry in seven days.

Oscar glanced at the housekeeper. “Prepare the invitations and send word to our allies. Use the list from our last formal gatherin’.”

The housekeeper paused with one hand on the back of an empty chair. Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Will Lady Ceana’s parents arrive before the date is fixed, me Laird?”

“The contract and invitation will reach them together.”

Her gaze shifted to Ceana for one brief moment before she inclined her head. “Aye, me Laird.”

She began discussing stores with a servant, though the faint tightening around her mouth made her opinion of Oscar’s decision clear enough.

Ceana looked across the table at the children. Oscar had announced the marriage before them and ordered half the household into action without asking how either child felt about another woman taking their mother’s place. She wouldn’t do that. 

“What do ye think of this?” she asked.

Tommy smiled at once. “Does that mean ye will stay here forever?”

“If the agreement holds, I intend to remain.”

“Can Ness attend the wedding?”

Ceana glanced under the table. Two small horns had appeared between the hanging cloth and Tommy’s knee. “That depends on whether Ness can promise to behave.”

“She cannae,” Paisley muttered.

Tommy considered the judgment and nodded. “She could stand outside.”

Paisley folded her hands in her lap. Her expression remained polite when she looked at Ceana. “Faither has introduced women he intended to marry before.”

Ceana’s smile faded. “Aye?”

“Aye. Neither remained long.”

Tommy became deeply interested in spreading honey across his oatcake. He applied enough to cover the plate beneath it.

“What happened to them?” Ceana asked.

Paisley lowered her gaze. Tommy raised the oatcake and took a bite large enough to prevent speech.

Oscar reached for the bread. “The former arrangements are irrelevant.”

“Perhaps to ye,” Ceana replied. “I would prefer to ken why the children expect me to disappear.”

The housekeeper stepped closer to her chair. “Which Morrag customs would ye like included in the ceremony, me Lady? The seamstresses will also require time with ye this afternoon.”

The question closed the subject without exposing the children further.

Ceana gave the woman two brief instructions concerning her clan ribbons and turned back to her plate. Across from her, Paisley kept her attention on her folded hands.

Oscar finished breakfast soon afterward. A guard waited beyond the open door, and the faint clash of steel against steel drifted into the room.

“I will be at the trainin’ grounds,” Oscar said as he rose. “We will discuss the remainin’ details later.”

Ceana looked up at him. “Ye might begin by rememberin’ that I agreed to terms, nae silence.”

His hand paused on the back of her chair. The servants were close enough to hear them, and both children watched.

“We will speak later,” he said.

He left with the waiting guard before she could argue.

His departure seemed routine, though Ceana did not miss the timing. He had announced he was remarrying and returned to the part of his life he could control.

Soon enough, the servants began to clear the table. One maid lifted Ceana’s cup and reached for her plate, but stopped when Ceana remained seated.

“I can escort the children to their lessons, me Lady,” she offered.

“They arenae preventin’ me from doing anythin’ important.”

The maid’s eyes moved briefly toward another servant. “Aye, me Lady.”

Tommy climbed down from his chair and attempted to coax Ness from beneath the table. The goat emerged with a strip of fabric in her mouth that appeared to have come from one of the napkins.

Ceana took the cloth and handed it to Paisley. “Does yer braither usually begin every mornin’ by stealin’ from the table?”

“Only when Ness helps,” Paisley said, folding the damaged linen before setting it aside.

Ceana asked about her studies, and Paisley answered as carefully as she could. She enjoyed embroidery and reading, though she spoke of both as duties completed at the proper hour. Tommy interrupted twice to describe Ness’s skill at escaping the stables.

“Do ye usually breakfast with yer faither?” Ceana asked.

“When his duties allow it,” Paisley replied. “He trains with the men most mornings, and few people choose to spend time with us.”

The words returned Ceana to the formal greeting in the entrance hall. Paisley had made herself quiet enough to require little attention. Tommy stirred up trouble whenever adults looked the other way. Oscar supplied teachers, guards, governesses and every material comfort a laird’s children could need, then allowed his work to consume the hours they might have asked from him.

Ceana had agreed to help manage his household. She would not stand beside him at public gatherings while his children competed with clan business for whatever part of him remained.

If she were to become the lady of the castle, she wouldn’t stand for that. The children came first. 

They must always come first. 

“Where are the trainin’ grounds?” she asked.

Paisley’s eyes lifted quickly. “Beyond the western courtyard.”

“Faither doesnae like interruptions while he trains,” Tommy piped up.

“Then he shouldnae have announced our impendin’ nuptials before breakfast was finished.”

Ceana rose and smoothed her gown, ignoring the cautious looks Paisley and Tommy exchanged while she crossed toward the door. She stepped out into the corridor and made her way to the western courtyard.

She followed the clash of steel through the western courtyard and past the stables. Each strike grew louder as she approached the training grounds, joined by shouted corrections and boots scraping across the damp earth. The sight of men drilling in pairs inside marked rings appeared before her as she drew even closer, while younger warriors waited beside racks of blunted weapons.

Soon, several faces turned toward her. Their attention lasted only until a sharper clash drew every eye toward the largest ring.

Oscar fought inside it without a shirt. He caught his opponent’s blade near the guard and twisted. The movement tightened the muscles across his shoulders before he drove the other man backward. Pale scars crossed his back, with darker marks along his ribs and upper arms. Several warriors nearby bore fewer signs of battle than he did.

He shifted his weight and avoided the next strike. His abdomen rippled as he turned, and his thighs bulged beneath fitted trousers. Sweat covered his chest and followed the firm planes of his stomach, while fine dark hair spread across part of his chest, narrowed below his navel, and disappeared beneath his waistband.

Ceana’s steps slowed.

The separate lives Oscar had promised seemed sensible while he stood fully dressed across a contract. Looking at his bare body made that agreement more difficult to contemplate with the same calm. Her mouth had gone dry, and warmth gathered low in her belly before anger restored her ability to move. 

Oscar disarmed his opponent with a clean twist of his wrist. The blunted blade stopped near the warrior’s throat without touching him.

“Yer weight moved too early,” he noted. “Anyone watchin’ yer feet would have ken where the strike was comin’ from.”

The warrior adjusted his stance.

Oscar demonstrated the movement once, his control making the correction appear simple. Then his gaze found Ceana at the edge of the yard. She was still looking below his face.

Heat rose into her cheeks when their eyes met. Oscar made no move toward his discarded shirt. He returned his attention to the warrior and completed the instruction while Ceana stood waiting before half the training yard.

The delay sharpened her purpose.

“Me Laird, I need a word.”

The group of warriors nearby glanced toward Oscar. He collected the practice sword from his opponent and tested his grip before turning to Ceana.

“What’s it about?”

“‘Tis about the children.” 

The faint twitch at the corner of his mouth disappeared. “Is either of them hurt?”

“Nay.”

“Are they in danger?”

Ceana stepped across the boundary marking the ring. One warrior moved as if to warn her, then stopped when Oscar allowed her to continue.

“They are lonely,” she said.

Oscar handed the practice blade to Lennan without taking his eyes off her. His man-at-arms accepted it and stepped away.

“Me children have everythin’ they need.”

“They have food and enough guards to defend a small village. Those things cannae perform every duty of kin.”

Oscar snatched a cloth from the rail and wiped the sweat from his neck. Ceana forced her eyes to remain on his face as the cloth traveled across his chest and down his side.

“They have tutors and servants,” he added. “Paisley receives every instruction suitable for her position, and clearly, Tommy has freedom enough to terrorize half the castle.”

“Ye daenae understand, do ye?” 

Oscar narrowed his eyes. “Understand what?”

“Tommy wants attention because he doesnae get it from ye. He risks his neck because mischief guarantees someone will look at him. Paisley behaves so perfectly that everyone forgets she needs company as much as he does.”

Oscar’s shoulders stiffened, and his hand closed around the cloth.

Ceana knew she had hit a sore spot. The children mattered more than the pride that could be seen hardening his expression.

“A servant can supervise lessons,” she continued. “And sure, guards can protect them, but neither can replace time at their faither’s table. They need to ken that clan business hasnae displaced them.”

Oscar made a small motion with two fingers. The warriors obeyed without question, gathering weapons and moving to the far side of the grounds. Lennan directed them beyond the next ring, creating more distance than Oscar had requested.

Ceana saw movement behind a stone arch near the stables. Tommy peered around its edge until Paisley caught his sleeve and pulled him back. Both children remained close enough to watch.

“Once we marry,” Ceana said, “the four of us will spend one hour together every day.”

Oscar lowered the cloth. “Ye have spent one mornin’ in me castle.”

“One mornin’ showed me what the contract failed to mention.”

“And, let me guess, now ye intend to restructure me family?”

“I intend to perform the duties ye asked me to accept. We can share a meal, walk, tell stories, or speak without half yer warriors waitin’ at the door.”

Oscar stepped closer. Without the other men between them, the heat of his skin reached her. His sweat darkened the waistband of his trousers, and his breathing remained steady despite the exertion.

“Ye ken what, I changed me mind. We must start tonight. We cannae afford to waste any more time.”

Oscar scoffed. “Anyone ever tell ye that ye bargain like a raider?”

Ceana raised her chin. “I learned from the man who stole me.”

His gaze remained on her face, though it dropped briefly to her mouth. Then he closed more of the distance. He could have removed her from the ring with little effort, but his hands remained at his sides.

“Ye willnae contradict or command me in front of me warriors,” he warned, lowering his voice.

“Ye announced before the household that I will become Lady MacKane. Ye cannae demand I carry the title while forbiddin’ me to speak about the family attached to it.”

“That is nae the point.” 

Ceana glanced toward the men now training beyond the second ring. “I see I may have chosen the location poorly.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. He stood close enough that the hem of her gown nearly brushed his bare feet. She could see his pulse in the damp skin at his throat. Her eyes dropped once to the dark line disappearing beneath his waistband before she forced them back to his face.

“But the condition remains.” 

Tommy leaned out from behind the arch again. Paisley caught his shoulder before he exposed them fully. Their attention remained fixed on Ceana and Oscar.

“One hour,” Ceana insisted. “Every day. If ye expect me to become their stepmaither within a week, they willnae wait a week for ye to begin showin’ up.”

Oscar looked toward the arch. His expression changed when he saw the children, though Ceana could not read the thought behind it. He faced her again and moved closer until retreat would have required her to step out of the ring.

“And what if I refuse? What if I say I daenae want this arrangement?” 

Ceana laughed, her eyes briefly dropping to the ground before returning to his face. “Then ye kidnapped the wrong bride in more ways than one.”

CHAPTER 7

The next evening found Oscar seated at the desk in his study. He squared the stack of correspondence against the edge, though every sheet had already been aligned. One corner still seemed out of place, and he adjusted it with his thumb. Then he closed the household ledger and moved Tommy’s carved horse from beside the inkpot to the far end of the desk.

The toy had appeared there three days before. Oscar could have sent it back to the nursery. Instead, the crude little beast had remained among accounts that governed rents, winter stores, and the repair of the eastern wall.

He opened the ledger again. A column of figures waited beneath his hand. He read the first entry twice without absorbing its meaning. His body retained a pleasant heaviness from the training yard, despite the bath and clean clothes. It also retained a sharper memory of Ceana standing among his warriors and looking at his bare chest.

She had made no effort to conceal her attention, and her gaze had followed a bead of sweat down his stomach before lifting to his face. He had enjoyed that look enough to resent her for giving it to him where his men might notice.

Her accusation had proved harder to dismiss.

His children lacked nothing. Paisley had tutors and suitable companions whenever she desired them. Tommy had guards, warm clothes, and discipline applied as consistently as he allowed. Both would inherit security few children possessed.

But none of that accounted for how often Oscar sat with them.

A cacophony of voices rose beyond the door. Tommy’s voice carried clearly, followed by Ceana’s lower reply and Paisley’s attempt to quiet them both. Oscar had barely risen when the door opened.

Ceana entered as if the study belonged to any person bold enough to cross its threshold. Tommy followed with two cushions clutched against his chest, and Paisley came last, closing the door carefully behind her. Her eyes moved from Oscar to Ceana as she waited for one of them to send her away.

“We have come for the first family hour,” Ceana announced.

“I didnae agree to one.”

“Ye also failed to refuse, so…” 

Oscar looked at Tommy, who had already dropped the cushions before the fireplace. Paisley remained near the door.

Disappointment would push Tommy toward louder methods of seeking attention. Paisley, as he had been made aware, would accept dismissal without protest and remember every moment of it.

Ceana watched him with infuriating serenity. She understood the position in which she had placed him.

“One hour,” he acquiesced.

Tommy cheered and threw himself onto a cushion. Paisley crossed the study more slowly. She sat near her brother only after Oscar left the desk and took the chair facing them.

Ceana settled on the second cushion, arranging her dress beside the fire. “We shall ask questions. Each person may ask one of anyone present. Refusal requires a forfeit.”

“What sort of forfeit?” Oscar asked.

“One chosen by Tommy.”

That seemed to please the boy immensely.

Tommy pointed at him. “Have ye ever lost a fight?”

Oscar sighed and nodded. “Aye.”

The boy’s mouth fell open. Ceana looked equally interested, though she hid it by smoothing her dress.

“Every man who fights long enough loses,” Oscar elaborated. “The clever ones learn why.”

“Who struck ye?” Tommy asked.

“Ye have used yer question.”

Tommy folded his arms. His displeasure lasted until Paisley turned toward Ceana.

“Do ye really mean to stay after the weddin’?” she asked.

Oscar glanced at his daughter. She kept her hands folded in her lap, yet one thumb pressed hard into the other.

Ceana gave the question the attention she might have given a clan elder. “I daenae make promises lightly. I agreed to become part of this household, and I intend to honor that agreement.”

Paisley’s fingers loosened before Ceana asked what she enjoyed when no task had been set for her. Paisley hesitated before admitting that she liked music and stories about distant places.

“Stories are dull unless there is a battle,” Tommy commented.

“Yer sister was speakin’, sweetness.” Ceana’s admonition carried no anger. “Ye may disagree when it is yer turn.”

Tommy closed his mouth.

Oscar was so shocked by the boy’s response that he had not noticed Ceana turn her green eyes on him. “What makes ye laugh?”

He blinked, searching for an answer, and found only the duties that filled his days. “There is little about clan business that amuses me.”

“That is a refusal,” Tommy declared. “Ye owe a forfeit.”

“Ness makes Faither laugh,” Paisley stated softly.

“She doesnae.”

“She ate one of yer letters,” Tommy said. “Ye laughed when Lennan tried to pull it out of her mouth.”

Oscar remembered Lennan pursuing the goat around the courtyard while half the guards pretended not to watch. A sound had escaped him before he could prevent it.

Ceana burst into laughter, the sound filling the study. Her head tipped back, and a strip of firelight caught her throat. Oscar found himself watching her instead of correcting his children. It was the most fascinating thing, just how her warmth reached every corner he had kept orderly.

“Can ye dance?” Tommy asked her.

“I can.”

“Paisley cannae.”

Paisley flushed. “Some of us have it hard, alright? I cannae step on people’s feet.”

A light silence fell over the four of them as Oscar took another glance at Ceana. However, it was clear she would not let it last. 

“Every good dancer once stepped on someone’s feet,” she said, rising. “Come, I shall show ye.”

She placed Paisley’s hand correctly and adjusted the girl’s shoulders with gentle fingers. When Paisley stumbled through a turn, Ceana slowed down and steadied her.

After several attempts, Paisley completed the step. Her small smile hit Oscar somewhere beneath the ribs.

“She needs to see the whole dance,” Tommy declared. “Faither can do the man’s part.”

Nay. Nay, nay, nay.

Oscar coughed, knowing very well where this was going. “I daenae think I have the time because of work and⁠—”

Tommy’s face fell. Paisley lowered her gaze, though she had been standing straighter a moment earlier. Ceana said nothing. She merely waited beside the fire with one hand extended toward the girl.

Oscar rose before he had properly decided to move. He stopped in front of Ceana and offered his hand. She studied it for a moment. Perhaps she remembered how their palms had clung together when they had made the bargain in this room. When she accepted his hand, the warmth of her skin seeped into his fingers.

Paisley began humming a familiar tune. Oscar set his other hand on Ceana’s waist. Her gown yielded beneath his palm, allowing him to feel the shape beneath the fabric. He kept the first steps formal and measured.

“Turn on the next count,” he said.

“I ken when to turn.”

“Then why are ye waitin’?”

“To see whether ye can lead without issuin’ commands.”

Tommy snickered as Oscar guided Ceana into the turn. Her skirts brushed his boots, and she returned to him with flawless timing. Her hand settled more securely in his as he drew her through the next figure, conscious of her warmth and the light pressure of her body following his direction.

Paisley’s tune grew steadier, and Ceana lifted her face as Oscar turned her again. Her breath fanned his jaw when she came close, and her lips parted as his palm tightened on her waist.

He completed another step before realizing that the humming had stopped and the door closed with a sharp click, followed by the sound of the key turning in the lock. Tommy had vanished, along with Paisley. Oscar remained with Ceana’s hand in his and her waist beneath his palm.

First, he released her gently. Her warmth left his palm, and his fingers tightened once against the emptiness before he crossed to the door.

The handle would not budge. He tried it again, then pressed his ear to the wood and listened. A smothered laugh came from the corridor.

“Tommy!”

“The key is on the hook, Faither,” Tommy called. “Anyone passin’ by can let ye out.”

“Bring it here.”

The sound of footsteps pattered over the stone in response.

“Tommy, we shouldnae leave them long,” Paisley whispered from further down the corridor.

Tommy answered too quietly for Oscar to hear. Soon enough, both sets of footsteps retreated.

Behind him, Ceana drew a breath that trembled at the end. He turned and noticed that she had pressed her lips together, though the corners kept lifting. Her cheeks had reddened from the dance, and several dark strands had loosened near her temples.

“Ye find this amusin’.”

“A little.” Her composure broke, and she covered her mouth. “He left the key where someone could find it. Ye have to admit that was thoughtful.”

“He has trapped servants in the linen cupboard twice. Last month, he locked Lennan in a storage chamber.”

Ceana lowered her hand. “Did Lennan find it amusin’?”

“He threatened to send Tommy to the kitchens to scrub pots.”

“Did Tommy scrub them?”

Oscar didn’t take a beat. “He hid the brushes.”

A laugh escaped Ceana, and Oscar’s lips twitched before he could prevent it.

The boy had outdone himself this time. His usual tricks involved trapping one unsuspecting victim. Locking two people together required a different purpose.

“Daenae laugh where he can hear ye,” Oscar muttered. “Ye will encourage him. But then I wouldnae mind this particular trick bein’ repeated.”

The study fell quiet. Ceana’s laughter faded. She stood several paces away, still flushed, her chest rising faster than the dance required. Her gaze moved over his face before settling on his mouth.

Oscar became aware of every inch between them. The rhythm of the dance remained in his body, along with the curve of her waist beneath his palm. Sudden privacy stripped away the restraint demanded by his children’s presence, and his manhood pressed hard against the front of his breeches.

Ceana must not see it.

He turned toward the desk and walked behind it, grateful for the broad panel of oak that concealed him. “Whisky?”

Her eyebrows drew together at his abrupt retreat. “Why nae?” 

He reached for the decanter and poured with deliberate care. The stream struck the cup without a tremor. He braced one hand against the desktop and concentrated on the burn of his own drink, the cool rim of the cup, and the figures waiting inside the abandoned ledger.

Desire lingered beneath his skin. He refused to burden Ceana with it while she was locked in his study and dependent on someone else to open the door. Their bargain had promised separate lives. Her consent to the marriage granted him no rights beyond the terms she had accepted.

He carried her whisky around the desk once the pressure in his breeches had eased. Ceana took the cup, studying him as though the brief withdrawal had become another question in her game.

“Are ye pleased with yer first family hour?” he asked.

She sipped. “It might have ended better without imprisonment.”

“Ye demanded an hour they would remember.”

“I had hoped they might remember the conversation.”

“They will remember that ye made their faither dance.”

Her eyes brightened over the rim of her cup. “Oh well, it was nice to see ye loosen up.”

“Aye. A lapse in judgment.”

“Ye werenae that bad a dancer. I mean, yer steps were… respectable.”

Oscar narrowed his eyes at her. “Respectable?”

Ceana raised a hand. “I reserve praise until I have seen whether ye can manage a livelier tune.”

Oscar stepped closer. The challenge invited an answer he had no business giving while her lips still shone with whisky. “Tomorrow, perhaps.”

Ceana lowered her cup. The distance between them narrowed until he could see her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.

“I am glad ye will be me bride,” he admitted.

Her fingers froze against her cup. She searched his face, and he let her. A dry qualification would have restored safer ground. He had no wish to offer one.

“Do ye mean that?”

“Aye.”

“Ye chose me because Tommy obeyed me.”

“Well, I never said it was the whole reason. It was only a part of it.” 

“And what is the rest?”

Oscar could have mentioned her courage. He could have spoken of her loyalty to Daphne or the way she had entered his household and noticed needs he had trained himself to overlook. But none of those answers accounted for the urge to snatch the cup from her hand and taste the whisky from her mouth.

He lifted his hand. A loose strand of hair hung against her cheek. His fingers brushed it back, lingering on the line of her jaw.

Ceana remained where she was. Her breath caught, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. She set the whisky on the desk without looking away. When Oscar’s thumb moved once over her cheek, her hand rose and closed lightly around his wrist.

Oscar then bent his head. Her face lifted, and the space between their mouths shrank to a hairsbreadth. Warm air touched his lips, and his body stirred again as her fingers tightened around his wrist.

Suddenly, the key scraped inside the lock.

Ceana stepped away so quickly that her dress struck the desk. She reached for the abandoned cup, though she did not drink.

“It seems we are free, me Laird.”

The door opened, and Tommy stood on the threshold, wearing a satisfied grin. Paisley hovered behind him, her hands clasped tightly before her.

Oscar straightened. “Tommy, ye will explain yerself.”

“Why did ye lock the door?” Ceana asked, her calm question reaching the boy before Oscar’s sharper tone.

Tommy looked from her to his father. “So ye could finish dancin’.”

“And because ye thought it funny?”

His grin returned. “Aye.”

Ceana approached him and crouched until their eyes were level. “Would ye find it funny if someone shut ye inside a room and took away the key?”

“I wouldnae be frightened.”

“What if ye couldnae open the door and nay one answered when ye called?”

Tommy glanced toward Paisley. His confidence faltered at the simple question.

“I would kick it,” he answered.

“And if kickin’ didnae work?”

His boot scraped against the floor. “I might be frightened then.”

Oscar watched the boy’s shoulders draw inward. He had always punished the locking of doors, removed privileges, and ordered guards to watch Tommy more closely. He had never asked his son to consider the fear of the person left behind.

“Have ye ever been frightened when ye were alone?” Ceana asked.

Tommy shook his head, then stopped. “Sometimes.”

“Would ye like to make another person feel that way?”

“Nay.” His gaze fell to the key in his hand. “I am sorry.”

Ceana opened her arms, and Tommy stepped into them at once. She held him close before drawing back enough to look at him.

“Admittin’ ye are wrong takes courage, sweetness.”

Paisley’s shoulders relaxed. She collected the key from Tommy and carried it to Oscar. “I told him we should come back.”

“Oh well, ye still followed him,” Oscar pointed out.

A faint flush crept up her cheeks. “Aye, Faither.”

He accepted the key. “Neither of ye will keep this tonight. The apology is sufficient. Go to bed.”

Tommy hugged Ceana once more before taking Paisley’s hand. His sister guided him into the corridor, pausing to give Ceana a small smile.

Oscar waited until their footsteps faded before looking at Ceana. “Ye are a witch.”

She retrieved her cup and glanced at the whisky. “Witchcraft would have made ye agree to the family hour without an argument.”

She left the cup beside his ledger and walked toward the open door. At the threshold, she turned.

“I shall see ye tomorrow for our next hour, me Laird.”

Oscar watched the door close behind her, already wanting tomorrow to come. “I cannae wait.”

CHAPTER 8

Ceana lunged across the garden path and caught Ness by the loose hide at her neck before the goat reached the lavender. 

Oh, ye wee beast. 

The animal planted her hooves in the earth and tugged backward, a leather strap hanging from her mouth. Tommy came charging after her with a wooden sword raised above his head. His boots struck the path hard enough to scatter gravel.

“Hold her, Ceana. She has stolen from a warrior.”

Ness jerked her head, but Ceana tightened her grip before the strap could slap her across the face. “A warrior should guard his possessions more carefully.”

“I was ambushed.”

Ceana sighed. “Ye tied it around yer waist and stood beside a hungry goat.”

“That is how she ambushed me.”

Paisley watched from a bench near the wall. Her sewing rested across her knees, forgotten for the moment. When Tommy tried to seize the strap and landed on his backside, her mouth curled into a quick smile.

Ceana freed the leather from Ness’s teeth. A small mark had been stamped near the buckle, the same mark she had seen on equipment in the training yard.

“Did yer faither give this to ye?”

Tommy pushed himself upright. “Nay.”

“Then it was the weapons master.”

His gaze moved toward the kitchen door. Ceana waited.

“I took it from beside the practice swords,” he admitted.

“Ye may return it yerself, or ye may ask a guard to go with ye.”

“I can return it.”

“Before dinner.”

Tommy accepted the strap with wounded dignity. He tucked it beneath his arm, then pursued Ness toward the lawn.

Paisley watched him go. “He used to wait until someone found what he had taken.”

“Then he is learnin’ to save everyone’s time.”

“Ye made him tell the truth.”

“He chose to tell it.” Ceana sat beside her and smoothed the skirt of her borrowed gown. “That part belongs to him now.”

A maid crossed the far path and greeted Ceana before stepping into the kitchen passage. Ceana knew now where the passage led. She also knew when the gardeners rested and which stairs Paisley used to avoid the crowded hall. The castle had begun to reveal its habits.

Within mere days, those habits might become hers.

Paisley drew her needle through the cloth. “Are ye happy to become Faither’s wife?”

Ceana looked toward the lawn. Tommy had fashioned the stolen strap into a lead for Ness and was attempting to march her in a circle. The memory of Oscar’s palm against her waist returned with enough clarity to warm her skin.

“I have scarcely had time to understand it,” she replied. “I am nae unhappy though, if that’s what ye are askin’.”

“I thought every lass wanted to be a wife.”

“Every lass is expected to become one. Wantin’ it is an entirely different thing.”

Paisley considered that while winding thread around one finger.

“I never expected anyone to choose me,” Ceana added, not really knowing why. “Nay one wanted me before.”

“That is foolish.” Paisley looked up at once. “Ye are very bonnie.”

The praise struck deeper than Ceana wished it to. Paisley had no reason to offer courtesy, and her solemn expression held no trace of flattery.

“Ye are kind.”

“I like ye.” The girl lowered her eyes again. “I like Tommy too, though I would deny it if he heard me.”

Ceana smiled. “I shall protect yer reputation.”

Paisley pushed the needle into the cloth without drawing it through. “’Tis why I daenae want another braither or sister.”

Ceana gave her time. The girl’s shoulders had drawn inward, as if she expected laughter.

“What do ye believe would happen if another child came?”

“Faither is busy already, and Tommy is the heir. If his new wife had her own bairn, she might decide there was nay place for me.”

The words her own bairn sounded borrowed. It immediately made Ceana’s smile falter. 

“Did one of the other women say that?”

“One said she would give Faither more sons. Another spoke of her own son while Tommy and I were beside her.” Paisley pulled the needle through too sharply, puckering the fabric. “The last one said the council could give her son the same rights as Tommy.”

Ceana pictured a woman discussing a child who did not yet exist while Paisley sat within earshot. A new son could gather allies, and a daughter could be sent away quietly once she ceased to suit the household being built around her.

“What did Oscar do?”

“He ended the match. She left the next mornin’.” A flicker of satisfaction crossed Paisley’s face. “Faither was so angry that nay one dared ask her to stay for breakfast.”

Great. So it wasn’t only Tommy who had driven every woman away. Oscar had hidden the harder truth beneath a story that made his son sound impossible. He needed a wife who would join the family without dictating what could be taken from his children.

Ceana covered Paisley’s tense hand with her own. “While I have authority here, nay one will speak as though ye or Tommy belong to a life yer faither has left behind. This is yer home.”

“Do ye truly mean to stay?”

“I gave yer faither me word. I willnae vanish without explanation.”

Tommy ran back with grass on his sleeves while Ness bounded behind him. “Are ye speakin’ about me?”

“Only about troublesome goats,” Paisley said, reclaiming her hand before he could see.

Ceana turned to her, and they both laughed.

Oscar slowed down his walk beneath the garden arch.

Paisley sat close to Ceana, their shoulders nearly touching. Tommy stood before them, telling some elaborate tale with the strap from the training yard hanging from his fist. Ceana listened with an attention that made the boy’s nonsense appear worthy of record.

The memory of her in his arms had followed him through the morning rounds. Now his desire was growing around a whole other thought. He wanted to feel her warmth beneath his hand again. He wanted to return from every journey and find her seated with his children.

“Lady Ceana has done well with young Tommy,” the guard beside him said.

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “Watch the gate.”

The guard moved away at once.

The praise was harmless. However, for some reason, Oscar found that he disliked hearing another man admire anything about her.

Lennan approached before Oscar could cross into the garden, carrying two folded letters. Oscar recognized Muriel’s hand beneath the first letter, then glanced at the Morrag seal.

He opened David Tulloch’s letter first. 

To Oscar Barr, Laird MacKane

My Laird,

Your message regarding my daughter has reached Morrag. My wife and I are relieved to learn that Ceana is unharmed and under your protection. We will leave for MacKane Castle at first light and expect to arrive as swiftly as the roads permit.

I will not pretend that the manner in which this match began sits well with me. Ceana is my daughter, and before vows are spoken, Heather and I must see her with our own eyes and hear from her own lips that she is willing. If she gives that assurance, I will not object to the marriage.

The failure of Daphne’s betrothal has left Clan Morrag in an uncertain position. Laird Gilmore is not a man whose displeasure may be dismissed, and I fear what his anger would cost my people. An alliance with Clan MacKane would provide protection that I would be a fool to undervalue.

Until we arrive, I trust Ceana will be treated with the honor due both her name and the place you intend her to hold.

David Tulloch, Laird Morrag.

Oscar turned away from Lennan before breaking the second seal.

Oscar,

Word has reached me that you have taken another betrothed. Is it true, or have you frightened some poor lass into remaining beside you until everyone decided it must be a courtship?

I hope she is stubborn. You have always needed someone willing to tell you when your grand plans are foolish. This sounds very much like the carved horse in Father’s chamber. You were certain you could make it leap from the mantel, broke its leg instead, then stood there glaring at it as though it had disobeyed you. I claimed I had broken it and saved your hide from Father’s belt. Do you remember?

So, tell me the truth. Who is she, and what do Paisley and Tommy think of her? Their judgment may prove wiser than yours.

Try not to ruin matters before I receive your answer.

Muriel.

She was still alive. At least that was some news. 

His grip creased the edge of the paper. She could send questions while leaving him unable to find her. Angus might still be directing what she wrote or using fear to keep her hidden.

“Is it bad news?” Lennan asked.

“Nothin’ we daenae already ken.”

Oscar refolded the letter and tucked it inside his coat, refusing to offer anything else. When he entered the garden, Tommy rushed toward him. 

“Did ye bring me somethin’?”

“Aye.” Oscar drew a smooth black stone from his coat. “Ye may have it after returnin’ that strap.”

Tommy scowled.

Ceana rose from the bench, her eyes moving from her father’s letter to the place where Oscar had concealed Muriel’s letter.

“What has happened?” she asked.

“Yer parents are comin’. Once they arrive, there will be nay cause for delay.”

Her hand curled into a fist. “What does that mean?”

“When they have witnessed yer consent, and the arrangements are complete, we will marry.”

Ceana held his gaze. The near kiss remained between them, closer now than it had been beside the locked study door.

Strangely enough, she had no counter to his statement. He had prepared himself for her resistance, but her acceptance left him with no defense at all.

Worse, he hated that she hadn’t argued with him. 

Later that evening, Ceana held the page flat with her thumb while Tommy fought sleep beside her. His head had begun to sway toward her shoulder, though he lifted it whenever the warrior in the tale faced danger. Paisley sat close enough to correct him each time he interrupted, and Oscar remained in the chair across from them, even though a sealed bundle of correspondence waited near his elbow.

“The warrior should cross the river,” Ceana read. “If he stays on the road, his enemies will see him.”

“He should fight them,” Tommy said, yawning. “Then he wouldnae need the river.”

“He is outnumbered.”

Tommy shrugged. “That makes the fight better.”

Oscar took a low exhale. “The river is too deep at that point. He would lose his horse and half his supplies.”

Ceana closed the book over one finger. “Ye are only sidin’ with Tommy because neither of ye respects a sensible retreat.”

Oscar looked up at her. “A poor route remains poor whether the traveler is sensible or nae.”

Paisley laughed before covering her mouth. Oscar looked at her, and his face softened long enough for Ceana to see how differently he might appear if his duties did not occupy so much of his time and reputation.

When Ceana resumed the tale, she caught him watching her over Tommy’s bent head. The memory of his hand on her waist returned, followed by the breath that had tickled her lips before the study door opened. His gaze lowered briefly to her mouth, and she nearly stuttered.

Tommy surrendered to sleep before the warrior reached the river. His weight settled against her, one hand resting near Ness on the rug. Paisley lasted only a little longer. Her fingers closed around Ceana’s hand as her eyes fluttered shut.

Oscar rose and lifted Tommy without waking him. The boy curled against his chest while Ness followed them toward the adjoining bedchamber. Ceana stayed with Paisley until a maid came and gently pried her hand away from the girl’s loose grasp.

Oscar waited in the passage, his eyes sharp in the dark. When she joined him, he looked even more relaxed than earlier. 

“Mind if I walk ye to yer room?”

“Nay.”

They walked beneath the light of widely spaced torches. His boots struck the stone in a steady rhythm while her skirts whispered beside him.

“How soon will everything change when me parents arrive?” she asked.

“The most important decision has been made,” he said. “The rest only requires witnesses and proper arrangements.”

“So me questions are no longer welcome?”

“It means we neednae renegotiate the same bargain every night.”

They reached her chamber before she could give a proper answer. She placed her hand on the handle, yet the fear Paisley had confessed earlier that morning would not allow her to let him leave.

“Paisley believes she will lose her place if yer new wife bears ye a child.”

Oscar paused. His shoulders stiffened beneath his coat, and his attention shifted toward the dark passage before returning to her.

“Ye daenae need to ken more than I have told ye. I have nay need for other children.”

The answer struck the wound Ceana had carried for years. Oscar wanted a woman who could care for his children. Her own failure would never trouble their bargain because he expected nothing from her beyond a public role.

There is little danger of me bearin’ one anyway, she wanted to say.

The confession rose in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it down. He had offered her a closed door where his own pain was concerned. She would not place her secret in his hands while he guarded his.

“What ye need doesnae answer Paisley’s fear,” she argued. “She believes another child could cost her yer affection and her security here.”

“She is me daughter. Her place is secure.”

“She has heard women discuss replacin’ Tommy as heir. One of them spoke of creatin’ a family with her own son while Paisley sat nearby. What should she believe when every new wife might regard her as belongin’ to the wife who came before?”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “Their maither…”

He stopped, and Ceana waited until it became clear he would offer nothing more.

“Whatever happened to their maither still governs this family,” she said. “Yer children live with the consequences of somethin’ nay one will even mention.”

“Ye have been in me castle less than a week.” He moved closer, forcing her to tilt her face up. “Ye have challenged me at me table and before me men. Ye did it again in me study, and now ye stand outside yer bedchamber demandin’ answers I have chosen to keep private?”

“That is yer fault. Ye kidnapped the wrong woman if ye wanted silence.”

“And I continue to learn that every day.”

“Yet here we are.”

His gaze held hers while he closed the remaining distance. Ceana kept her hand on the handle, aware that one downward turn would open the door. She stayed where she was.

“’Tis simple. Just stop challengin’ me,” he said, his low voice skittering over her skin. 

The previous night’s restraint had vanished from his face, leaving his mouth hard and his eyes dark.

“Do ye want me to stop because I am wrong or because I see ye for what ye truly are? For what ye avoid?” she asked.

Oscar planted one forearm against the door beside her head. His other hand found her waist, and the pressure of his palm drew her close enough for the heat of his body to seep through her clothes.

His gaze dropped to her lips while his thumb pressed into the curve of her waist. He bent until his breath warmed her mouth. Ceana slid her hand off the handle, closed her fist around the front of his shirt, and lifted her face.

Then he kissed her.

The first contact carried enough force to press her head against the door. He caught her lower lip between his and changed the angle, drawing a startled breath from her. Ceana tightened her fist and pulled him closer until his chest was flush against hers.

Her lips opened beneath his. Oscar accepted the invitation with a rough sound, and his tongue plunged into her mouth. The intimate stroke sent heat through her body, urging her onto her heels as she met him with her tongue.

His hand slid from her waist to her hip, where his fingers gripped her firmly. When he pressed closer, his hard length met her lower belly through his breeches. 

The feeling made her arch into him.

Ceana caught his shoulder with her free hand while he curled his palm around her neck. His mouth remained open over hers, taking each breath she tried to draw as her fist pulled him harder against her.

This was a bad idea. 

A terrible one, in fact.

CHAPTER 9

Oscar lifted his mouth from Ceana’s, and cooler air kissed her lips. His hand slipped from her hip as he slowly pulled away, taking with him the heat of his chest and the hardness that had poked her belly. When his forearm came down from beside her head, space opened around her before she was ready for it.

He could not retreat far. Her fist still held the front of his shirt.

Ceana looked down and found the fabric crushed between her fingers. She had gripped him hard enough to pull the fastening loose, and the wrinkled fabric offered plain evidence of how eagerly she had drawn him closer. Oscar waited without touching her while she forced her fingers to open one at a time.

Once she released him, he stepped back until the width of the passage separated them. His breathing remained too deep for calm, though he straightened his shirt with slow movements and tucked both hands behind his back. He looked her right in the eyes, avoiding her lips such that she became painfully aware they were swollen.

Her body had yet to understand that the kiss was over. Her pulse beat hard beneath her skin, and her knees shook a little. Oscar had already re-assumed the posture of the laird who had negotiated their marriage as though nothing intimate had passed between them.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice still a little rough. “That shouldnae have happened.”

Ceana stared at him.

Was he sorry that he had kissed her, or did he regret discovering how willingly she had kissed him back? She could ask whether their separate lives were meant to exclude every touch, though the answer might leave her feeling more exposed than she did now. His arousal had been unmistakable against her belly. He could not pretend that desire belonged to her alone.

“I will see ye tomorrow, Lady Ceana.”

Lady.

The title put more distance between them than his retreat had tried to.

Ceana drew a breath to say his name, and one foot shifted before pride stopped her from following. She did not yet know whether she wanted an explanation or another kiss. Calling him back while she remained uncertain would place every vulnerable part of the encounter in his hands.

Oscar lowered his head and turned away. His pace remained even as he retreated down the passage, yet his right hand closed tightly at his side before he reached the corner. He released it only when he thought himself out of sight.

He never looked back.

Ceana stepped into her chamber before a servant could pass and find her standing there with loosened hair and swollen lips. After closing the door, she kept her hand on the handle. The metal became warm beneath her hand, and she withdrew from it with immense irritation that she could do nothing about. 

Near the fireplace, the mirror showed a woman whose carefully composed appearance had been thoroughly disrupted. She had reddened lips and bright eyes, while the color across her cheeks had yet to fade.

Ceana smoothed down parts of the gown that Oscar had gripped, then removed the pins that were already slipping from her hair.

The ordinary movements should have distracted her thoughts. However, they only reminded her that his fingers had held her with far less care. And she couldn’t tell if she wanted more… and what it would mean for them both. 

She poured water into the basin and pressed a damp cloth to her mouth. The coolness soothed the tenderness for a moment, though each pass over her lower lip made her remember when Oscar had caught it between his.

She set the cloth down.

She had wanted him. No part of the kiss could be dismissed as something he had imposed upon her. She had released the handle when she could have entered her chamber, and she had lifted her face after gripping his shirt. When his mouth opened over hers, she had pulled him closer and let him press against her. 

He had known exactly what she wanted before he walked away.

She turned away from the mirror and took the book left beside her bed. She sat with it open across her lap, determined to occupy herself until her heartbeat settled. Once she reached the bottom of the first page, she realized that she could not name a single event described there. She began again, only to reach the same line without understanding it.

Closing the book gave her hands little relief, so she picked up the shawl folded at the foot of the bed. She refolded it along the same crease and placed it back where she had found it.

The bargain had seemed easy for some reason when Oscar offered it. Tommy and Paisley needed someone who would value them, while his power would shelter Daphne from any man who meant to force her home.

As Lady MacKane, Ceana would hold a respected place in a household where the children had already begun to seek her company. She could be useful here in ways she had never been useful at home.

That promise had concealed a danger she understood only now. Oscar might entrust his children to her and allow her to govern his household, yet he would still bar her from every part of himself that required trust. Their marriage would leave her surrounded by people who needed her each day, only for night to bring her back to her chamber alone.

Knowing that he wanted her would make that solitude worse. His body had answered hers with a passion that no apology could disguise, and he still had chosen retreat over remaining with her.

Ceana set the shawl down with greater care than it required. She would not abandon the marriage before asking him what his retreat meant, and she would not permit his brief apology to decide the meaning of the kiss for them both. He had participated fully before control reclaimed him.

She prepared for bed while straining her ears. Every faint sound beyond the door drew her attention from the task at hand, and more than once she paused with her fingers on a ribbon. However, no footsteps returned to the corridor. Not then, not later in the night, and definitely not when she fell asleep. 

The next morning, the sound of hoofbeats struck the courtyard below and pulled her upright in bed. For one confused instant, she listened for the measured tread that had not returned during the night. However, the guards’ calls soon stopped that thought as a carriage rolled beneath her window and Morrag colors appeared among the men escorting it.

She had already reached for her gown when a maid knocked to announce her parents’ arrival. She dressed with little care for the rest of the pins slipping through her fingers, then hurried into the passage as servants carried trunks toward newly opened chambers. Mairi, the head maid, directed them from the landing while the guards below led the tired horses away.

Heather Tulloch stood inside the entrance hall with dust on the hem of her traveling gown. The moment she saw Ceana, she crossed the remaining distance and wrapped both arms around her. Her embrace tightened until Ceana could scarcely breathe.

“Good day, Maither,” Ceana breathed into her mother’s shoulder. 

“Let me see ye,” Heather said.

She drew Ceana toward the light and searched her face before turning over both wrists. Her fingers then brushed Ceana’s cheeks.

“Did he harm ye?”

“Nay, Maither. I am unharmed.”

David Tulloch approached more slowly, though his composure faltered when he gripped Ceana’s shoulders. He pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her hair.

“We didnae ken which daughter he had,” he said. “The message named ye, though we feared he might have taken ye both.”

Ceana held him for another moment before drawing back. “So Daphne hasnae returned yet?”

Heather reached into her cloak and produced a folded letter. The sight of her twin’s handwriting across the front made Ceana’s fingers tremble as she broke the seal.

Ceana,

Are you well? I have thought of little else since I left. I am safe, and I went willingly. I will not return to marry Angus. I know what that may bring upon Father and the clan, but I could not bind myself to a man I feared simply to keep everyone else comfortable. I cannot tell you where I am. The fewer people who know, the safer it will be for all of us.

You have spent too much of your life stepping into mine. We did it first with Mother’s blue ribbon, when you took the half I scorched so no one would discover we had traded places. You still have it, do you not?

Tell Mother I love her. Tell Father I am sorry, though I will not change my mind.

I am sorry I left you to answer for my choices. Do not risk your life again trying to fix what I have broken. Choose what comes next because it belongs to you.

Daphne.

The final lines blurred until Ceana wiped her eyes and read them again, a laugh escaping through her tears. She pressed the page against her chest, relieved that Daphne lived.

“How did this reach ye?” she asked.

“A trusted hand delivered it and left before we could ask questions,” Heather explained.

David looked toward the doors, where the last of their escort had entered. Traveling for so long had hollowed the skin beneath his eyes. “Her refusal has brought consequences. Bryce’s riders have been seen near our outer grazin’ land, and cattle have disappeared from there.”

“Has he sent his demands?”

“Nay. He wishes us to understand that he can reach Morrag land whenever he chooses.” David rubbed a hand over his jaw before meeting Ceana’s gaze. “I cannae protect our people with pride. An alliance with MacKane may give Bryce reason to hesitate.”

The speed of his answer revealed how often he had considered it. Shame flashed across his face, and he looked away.

“Did ye agree freely?” he asked.

“Oscar abducted me because he believed I was Daphne. Once he learned the truth, he offered terms, and I accepted them.”

“Did he threaten us to gain yer consent?” Heather asked.

“Nay. His promise to protect Daphne was one of the reasons I agreed.”

David’s shoulders lowered with relief. “In that case, I will welcome his protection. I wish the need for it hadnae fallen upon ye.”

The door opened before Ceana could answer. Oscar entered in a dark coat fitted neatly across his shoulders, with his sword secured at his side. Nothing in his bearing resembled the man whose mouth had opened over hers hours ago. Ceana’s gaze landed on his lips before she forced it away, yet her fingers could almost feel the fabric she had crushed in her fist.

Oscar greeted her parents, then met David’s stare directly. “I imagine ye’ve already heard enough to ken how Ceana came here.”

“I heard she was taken from the festival,” David replied.

“Aye. Me men believed she was Daphne. I gave the order.”

David’s jaw tightened. “Ye ordered me daughter kidnapped?”

“I did.”

David stepped closer.

“And he kept me afterward,” Ceana added. Both men turned toward her. “The bargain came later, and the decision was mine.”

Oscar allowed the correction to stand. His gaze slid over her face while carefully avoiding her mouth.

When David mentioned Bryce’s riders again, Oscar’s attention sharpened.

“How many were seen, and did they cross yer border?”

“Six. They remained outside it.”

Oscar moved until he stood close to Ceana. Anyone addressing her now had to look past him. “Neither Ceana nor Daphne will be handed to Bryce as payment for peace. Any demand concernin’ Ceana comes through MacKane.”

The certainty in his voice seemed to calm her father much more effectively than courtesy would have.

“Oscar has already promised to protect Daphne,” Ceana said.

At the sound of his name, Oscar looked back at her. Her mother’s gaze shifted between them, though she said nothing.

Ceana glanced again at the lips she could still feel against her own, but Oscar quickly broke eye contact.

“The alliance will extend me protection to Morrag,” he said. “The marriage proceeds only if Ceana’s consent still stands.” He turned fully toward her. “Does it?”

Her parents waited for her answer with bated breath.

Daphne had asked her to choose a life that belonged to her, and Oscar had offered one through Tommy and Paisley. His retreat frightened her because she now wanted something from him that their bargain had never promised. Even so, it changed nothing.

“It does,” she confirmed.

“As does mine.” Oscar summoned Lennan from the passage. “Send a rider for the priest. He is to be here tomorrow.”

Lennan’s gaze flicked toward Ceana before he bowed. “Aye, me Laird.”

He left to carry out the order while Oscar restored the distance he had kept since entering.

Ceana had one day before he became her husband, and still no answer for why he had kissed her as though he wanted everything before apologizing for taking anything.

She wasn’t certain if she was ever going to get it.

CHAPTER 10

Someone had seated Ceana beside the solar window for the light. She kept looking through the glass while Heather discussed ceremony ribbons with Mairi across the room. Below, two men carried benches toward the garden, and a kitchen boy followed with an armful of folded cloth.

“Should the greenery be brought inside if it rains?” a maid asked.

“The garden,” Ceana answered.

The maid blinked. “I asked about the greenery, me Lady.”

Heather said Ceana’s name twice before she looked up. Heat crawled up her neck as Mairi removed the pins and handed the fabric away without comment. Every mention of tomorrow reminded her of Oscar’s apology, though the memory of their kiss remained far more vivid than the regret he had placed around it.

A small plate waited beside her chair with the oatcakes she had praised at breakfast. No one admitted to sending them, yet the cook remembered. The maids also spoke of preparing her place in the Great Hall as though she had already ceased to be a guest. Their hope remained careful, shaped by women who had entered the castle before her and departed soon afterward.

“The Laird ordered a simple ceremony,” Mairi said as she checked another item on her list. “That means we shall avoid waste. It doesnae mean we will send ye out like a lass runnin’ to market.”

Ceana almost smiled. “I am content with whatever ye arrange.”

“Nay.” Mairi lowered the list. “Ye may choose the garden or the Great Hall. A bride ought to decide something about her own weddin’.”

Heather looked across the fabric spread between them. “On that matter, we agree.”

Ceana glanced toward the garden again. Paisley had grown to trust her there, while Tommy and Ness had turned it into the only place where she could forget how she had arrived at the castle.

“The garden,” she decided. “The children are comfortable there, and I would rather speak me vows where they can stand beside us without feelin’ displayed.”

Mairi’s expression warmed before she lifted her list again. “The garden, then.”

Heather lifted a length of blue ribbon from the table. “Ceana should wear Morrag colors during the handfastin’.”

“Morrag will be represented,” Mairi assured her. “MacKane cloth has already been measured.”

“Then use both,” Ceana ordered. She took the ribbon from her mother and laid it beside the dark green fabric. “I am joinin’ this household. I am nae arrivin’ without a name of me own.”

Neither woman argued.

Mairi began considering how the two ribbons could be fastened, while Heather pressed down the Morrag cloth with visible satisfaction.

Paisley had remained near the fireplace throughout the discussion, bent over a small piece of embroidery. Once the maids turned toward the table, she approached Ceana and held out the finished ribbon. Small silver leaves ran along one edge. The stitches were careful, though one leaned slightly away from the pattern.

“I made it for ye,” she said. “Ye could carry it tomorrow, if ye wish.”

Ceana accepted the ribbon with both hands. “I would be honored.”

“Ye daenae have to return it afterward.” Paisley watched the embroidery instead of Ceana’s face. “Ye can put it away with things ye no longer need.”

The request tightened Ceana’s throat.

Good God.

She folded the ribbon gently and placed it beside her glove. “I shall keep it, and I shall remember who made it.” 

Paisley said nothing.

“Neither the ribbon nor its maker will be discarded.”

The girl looked at her then, searching for mockery. When she found none, she nodded and returned to the fireplace. Heather had witnessed the exchange from across the room, and the concern on her face deepened as she watched Ceana tuck the gift away.

Ceana escaped the solar when Mairi began discussing the placement of benches. She intended to inspect the garden, though men’s voices reached her from a chamber beside the gallery.

“The missin’ cattle came from the same grazin’ land,” David said. “Bryce is testin’ how quickly we respond.”

Ceana’s eyes moved to the map that covered the table between him and Oscar. Messengers moved through the open doorway, which made the discussion no secret.

“I will send riders back with ye,” Oscar decided. “A second group will remain near the border until yer own watch is strengthened. If Bryce crosses it, word will come directly to me.”

Ceana stopped outside the door.

Oscar noticed her before David did. He paused for a second, his gaze trailing across her face to the corner of her mouth. His fingers closed around the edge of the map as he returned his attention to her father.

The firm voice discussing armed riders bore little resemblance to the one that had roughened while he kissed her. Even so, the breadth of his shoulders above the table reminded her how he had pressed her against the door.

Ceana continued through the gallery before she could betray how much the distance hurt. He had already committed MacKane men to protecting Morrag, fulfilling his promise without delay. He would give her everything a dutiful husband owed while keeping the answer she wanted beyond her reach.

She couldn’t think too hard about that for now.

Tommy found her near a window recess, with Ness trotting behind him. He studied her face before leaning against the stone beside her.

“What are ye doin’ out here, sweetness?” she asked.

He took a look at her before speaking. “Are ye afraid to marry Faither?”

Ceana took a minute before answering, “I daenae ken whether I fear the weddin’ or how quickly me life is changin’.”

Tommy shrugged. “Faither isnae bad.”

“I never said he was.”

“He lets Ness come inside the castle. A bad man wouldnae do that.”

Ceana chuckled. “Yer faither rarely looks pleased to find her indoors.”

Tommy considered this and pointed to the goat. “She is still here.”

The certainty in his voice made Ceana laugh, which pleased him enough to throw both arms around her waist.

“I shall play nay tricks on ye after the weddin’,” he promised. After a pause, he cleared his throat. “Nae many tricks.”

Ceana kissed the top of his head. Before she could answer, Ness seized the trailing end of a linen garland being carried past them. Tommy freed it from her mouth and smoothed the crushed section against his sleeve.

“Ness made nay promises,” he said.

He returned the linen to the maid without being told. The maid thanked him and adjusted the fold before continuing down the passage. Tommy watched until she disappeared, then led Ness toward the stairs.

Ceana remained by the window after they left. Paisley’s ribbon lay safely inside her pocket, while Tommy’s warmth lingered around her waist. Leaving either child would cause pain she had never expected to risk.

The castle had begun making room for her because she brought something its people needed. Her parents could return home under Oscar’s protection, and Daphne could remain free. Even Oscar had shown his need for a capable wife who would care for his children. He had given her no reason to believe he needed her beyond that purpose.

When Heather found her, Ceana claimed a headache and asked to rest alone. Her mother studied her face for a moment before agreeing, while Mairi quietly ordered the passage outside her chamber kept clear.

Ceana climbed into bed while daylight still streamed through the curtains. A meal was delivered soon afterward, though she left it untouched on the table. Beyond the closed door, servants continued to carry furniture and consult one another as they prepared for the upcoming wedding.

Paisley’s ribbon remained in Ceana’s pocket while she listened to it all from the bed.

Later that night, she lowered the unread book to her lap when a knock sounded at her chamber door. She pushed herself upright against the pillows and drew the blanket higher over her night rail, expecting Heather or a maid sent to collect the tray she had not touched.

“Come in.”

Oscar entered carrying a fresh tray.

Oh.

He had removed his outer coat, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his forearms. A bowl of broth sat beside thick bread, both giving off enough warmth to show that he had gone to the kitchen before coming to her.

The sight of him performing such an ordinary task held her still as he closed the door behind him. He left it unbolted and walked in carefully. 

Soon enough, his steps slowed down near the bed. 

Her hair hung loose over one shoulder, and his gaze followed it before returning to her face. He then placed the tray on the table beside her. “Why have ye eaten nothin’?”

“I wasnae hungry.”

“The tray was returned untouched.”

Ceana closed the book and set it aside. “Do ye personally inspect every plate carried through yer castle?”

Oscar shrugged. “I tend to notice what happens in me household.”

The answer warmed a place in her heart, a place she wished so desperately that she could ignore. He had avoided private conversation since apologizing for the kiss, yet he knew how many meals she had refused.

Oscar lifted the bowl and brought it within her reach. “Sit forward.”

“Have ye come as me laird, or are ye still me jailer?”

His mouth tightened at the second title. “I have come as yer future husband, if that would persuade ye to eat.”

There was no playfulness in his answer. He waited with the bowl steady between his hands while she adjusted the pillows and sat straighter.

“What is wrong?” he asked.

“I told everyone I had a headache.”

“That wasnae me question.”

Ceana ran her thumb along the edge of the blanket. “I wanted some peace and quiet.”

Oscar nodded. “Hidin’ in bed is a dramatic way to obtain it.”

“Oh well, I took a page out of yer book.”

The bowl stopped halfway to the table. Oscar looked at her for a long moment, and she saw that her answer had hit its target. He had spent days retreating into his study whenever a conversation pressed too close.

“Are ye ill?” he asked.

“Only tired.”

He set the bowl down and moved closer. Ceana’s breath caught when he leaned over her, though his hand rose slowly enough to give her time to turn away. She remained still as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her temple.

The backs of his fingers rested against her forehead. His skin was roughened by weapons and reins, yet the touch carried such care that her fingers tightened on the blanket. Her lips parted when his gaze dropped to them, and again she could feel the press of his body against hers.

Oscar seemed to notice that because he withdrew his hand at once. However, instead of stepping away, he gripped the back of the nearby chair and drew it beside the bed. The careful movement gave his hands something to do while he restored the distance he seemed determined to maintain.

“Ye have nay fever,” he noted.

“Then ye may report me recovery to the kitchens.”

“After ye eat.”

He sat close enough that his knee nearly touched her covered leg. In the smaller chamber, his body occupied more space than it had in the Great Hall. He was so close that she could see the pale scar crossing one knuckle as he broke a piece from the loaf.

“Me men will escort yer faither back to Morrag,” he said. “If Bryce crosses the border, a messenger will come directly to me.”

Ceana accepted the bread when he placed it near the bowl. “And Daphne?”

“She will have protection if she reaches either clan. Yer parents may remain here for as long as they need.”

He spoke as if these provisions had already become facts. He didn’t boast while speaking, and he asked for nothing in return.

However, she wasn’t blind to the fact that each of his promises built a wall around her safety. None required him to open up.

He placed the bowl in her hands and kept it steady until she had a secure grip. “Eat.”

“I still have little appetite.”

“I can wait,” he responded, his voice too confident to leave ground for argument. 

She watched as he settled back in the chair and tore another piece of bread, making it clear that he would remain beside her bed until she yielded.

She drank some broth. The warmth in her stomach awakened her hunger, so she took another mouthful without being commanded. Oscar’s shoulders lowered by a fraction as he poured water into a cup and set it close to her hand.

He gave no praise, which spared them both the indignity of treating her like a stubborn child. His attention remained on the bowl, though his gaze occasionally returned to her loose hair. Whenever a strand brushed her mouth, he tucked it away.

Ceana finished half the broth before setting the bowl down. Oscar reached for the remaining bread, perhaps expecting her to accept another piece.

“Do ye regret kissin’ me?” she asked.

His hand paused above the loaf.

Ceana held her breath at the sight.

Good. Some things can still affect him. 

His jaw flexed, and his gaze flicked to her lips. A deep breath expanded his chest before he pushed the chair back an inch.

“I regret losin’ control,” he said. “I crossed the limits we agreed on without considerin’ what would follow.”

“That doesnae answer me question.”

“It is the only answer I am willin’ to give tonight.”

Anger tightened Ceana’s grip on the bowl. “Ye speak as though the kiss was somethin’ ye did alone.”

Oscar looked at her again.

“I kissed ye back,” she reminded him.

“I ken.” His voice had dropped low enough to stir the memory along her skin. 

The acknowledgment contained no doubt as he rose before the exchange could draw him toward the bed again. He straightened the tray and placed the remaining bread within her reach, then moved the cup closer to the edge of the table.

“Rest,” he urged. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“Our weddin’ day.”

“Aye.”

He did not touch her again. At the door, he faced her with the formal restraint he had worn throughout the day.

“I will see ye tomorrow, Ceana.”

The door closed quietly behind him.

Paisley’s ribbon remained beside the lamp, and the food Oscar had brought still warmed the air near the bed.

Tomorrow, Ceana would marry a man who remembered every meal she missed and guarded everyone she loved. A man who did and might always consider her as a duty he had to fulfill.

CHAPTER 11

Oscar gripped the end of the nearest bench and moved it half a yard away from the aisle. Its legs dragged through the grass, leaving two pale tracks beneath a seat that the maids had positioned correctly the first time.

A simple cloth marked the spot where the vows would be spoken. Beside it, the priest surveyed the final preparations while witnesses gathered in small groups near the garden wall. Morrag and MacKane ribbons lay ready on a narrow table.

Oscar checked the table’s stability, then tightened his sword belt.

“The bench was straight before ye moved it,” Lennan remarked.

“It was too close to the aisle.”

“I doubt anyone else thought the same.”

Oscar looked at him. Lennan wisely turned his attention to the arriving guests, though a hint of amusement lingered at the corner of his mouth.

Oscar had always despised waiting idly. He could command men at the border or settle a dispute before noon, since both required decisions he understood. This morning demanded that he stand in his own garden and watch the castle entrance for a woman who had every right to stay inside.

He could still feel her lips against his own, could still feel the curve of her waist beneath his palm. The memories had followed him into her bedchamber the previous night, where the sight of her loose hair had tested what little restraint remained in him.

He pressed one hand against the edge of the narrow table until the wood bit into his skin. In less than an hour, he would finally be able to call Ceana his wife. The ceremony would place her in his household and require him to honor boundaries he had already crossed.

“Lady MacKane will stand here,” the priest said to a servant, indicating the space beside Oscar.

The title caught beneath Oscar’s ribs. His fingers went cold around the table, and for one beat, his lungs refused to expand. He pressed his thumb against the old scar across his palm until the physical pressure brought his attention back to the garden.

Ceana had agreed to the marriage, and the children had begun treating her presence as part of their lives. MacKane would provide the strength Morrag needed. The bargain required a lady for his clan and asked for no declaration of love. The last assurance, however, no longer carried the comfort it should have.

Oscar turned toward the castle entrance again. If his bride chose not to appear, the priest would speak no vows, and the ribbons would remain separate. Her absence would answer him before the entire clan. He could endure the embarrassment and the failure of his plans, but he could not yet determine what he would do with the place she had already made inside his home.

Tommy hurried into the garden with Paisley close behind him. His ceremonial coat sat crooked across one shoulder, though he had clearly submitted to having his hair combed. Paisley carried a folded cloth carefully against her chest.

“Ceana is almost ready,” Tommy announced. “She looks finer than any queen.”

Paisley gave him a patient look. “Ye have never seen a queen.”

“I ken what one would look like.”

“She is very beautiful, Faither,” Paisley said, quietly enough that the admission carried more weight than Tommy’s claim.

Oscar adjusted his cuffs. “I expected she would be.”

Tommy moved closer and lowered his voice, although everyone within several feet could still hear him. “Will she stay after the vows?”

“She will become Lady MacKane once she gives her consent, and the ceremony is complete.”

“So she cannae leave?”

The question made Paisley look at Oscar as well. Her fingers tightened around the cloth she carried.

“She will belong to this household,” Oscar said. “She has given her word to remain, and I have given mine.”

Some of the strain left Paisley’s face. “Will me ribbon truly be used?”

“Ceana chose it herself. It has a place with the clan ribbons.”

Paisley unfolded the cloth enough to reveal her silver embroidery. She touched one careful stitch before covering it again.

Tommy rocked forward on his toes. “Ness is tied near the stables. She has water, and I checked her tether meself.”

Keeping the goat away from a gathering required a sacrifice few adults would understand.

Oscar placed one hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Ye have done well.”

Tommy stood straighter beneath the praise. “I should check on her once more before Ceana comes down.”

“Once,” Oscar relented. “Then take a seat.”

The children left together, Paisley guarding her ribbon.

Oscar watched until they passed beneath the garden arch. Ceana had become an integral part of their lives so quickly that both could imagine a future where she stayed. He couldn’t let anything ruin that, especially him. 

“The witnesses are ready,” Lennan announced.

The priest moved into position as the conversation near the wall died down. David had yet to appear, which meant Heather remained inside with Ceana.

Oscar glanced toward the entrance again. Every instinct urged him to cross the garden, climb the stairs, and learn what had caused the delay. He stayed beside the ribbons anyway, keeping as calm as he could.

What are ye doin’, Ceana? Where are ye?

Heather fastened the last row of hooks at the back of Ceana’s gown, then smoothed down the fabric across her shoulders. The dark green had been chosen from MacKane stores, while a small silver brooch from Morrag secured it at the shoulder. 

Paisley’s embroidered ribbon rested beside the blue length Heather had brought from home.

Ceana checked the silver stitches again. The sound of movement outside the chamber made her stomach tighten. It was just servants passing on their way to the garden. The priest had arrived before breakfast, and Oscar would already be waiting.

Her fingers returned to the ribbon until Heather covered them with her own. “Ye will damage the embroidery if ye keep worryin’ it.”

“Paisley wouldnae forgive me, and her faither most definitely will be angry.”

“She might. But I doubt ye would forgive yerself.”

Heather moved behind her and began arranging her hair. Ceana watched their reflections in the small mirror, though the memory of a rough hand against her forehead distracted her from the pins.

“Did he visit ye after ye retired?” Heather asked.

“Oscar brought food and made certain I ate.”

Heather paused with a pin between her fingers. “Oscar?”

“The Laird.”

“Ye didnae call him that a moment ago.”

Ceana lowered her eyes to the ribbon. “He will be me husband by noon. I should be able to say his name.”

Her mother studied her reflection before setting the pin aside. The teasing Ceana expected never came. Instead, Heather turned her chair until they faced one another.

“Are ye certain ye wish to marry him?”

“I gave me word. The clans are gatherin’, and the priest has come.”

“None of that answers me question.”

Ceana drew in a slow breath. “I agreed to the marriage.”

“Daphne agreed to hers until she couldnae endure it.”

She stiffened. “Daphne fled before she was bound to Angus. She chose for herself.”

“Aye, though she had help.”

Heather crossed to the door and opened it far enough to check the passage. Once satisfied that no servant waited nearby, she closed it again.

“Daphne came to me after the household had gone to sleep,” she admitted. “I gave her money and me travelin’ cloak. The lower stables were left unlocked so she could take a horse without wakin’ the grooms.”

Ceana stared at her. “It was ye? Ye helped her escape?”

“I directed her toward the first safe road. After that, she chose her own path.”

“Does Faither ken?”

“He would have stopped us because he feared what Laird Gilmore might do. I feared what would happen to Daphne if we obeyed him.”

A startled laugh escaped Ceana before she could contain it. Her mother, who had spent years correcting posture and insisting on decorum, had quietly helped her sister steal a horse from her own stables and escape.

Heather kneeled in front of her. “I will do the same for ye.”

The faint amusement left Ceana’s face.

“A mare can be saddled in the lower stables within minutes,” Heather continued. “Ross will take ye through the kitchen gate while the household is occupied in the garden. I can claim that ye have taken ill and delay anyone who comes lookin’.”

“Ye would send both yer daughters runnin’ across Scotland?”

“I would rather have two livin’ and free daughters than two miserable, obedient ones,” she said without hesitation.

That stripped away Ceana’s last excuse—that she had no choice.

She looked toward the window. The lower stables lay beyond the wall, and the kitchen gate opened onto a narrow track that joined the road through the woods. With ordinary clothing beneath a cloak, she could leave MacKane land before Oscar understood what had happened.

Freedom was close enough to reach before the ceremony began. Choosing it would end the uncertainty. She would never have to discover whether Oscar intended to spend their marriage watching her mouth while denying himself the right to touch it. The separate chambers could remain an untested bargain, and she would avoid becoming the useful wife who knew every part of his household while knowing little about him.

However, Paisley’s ribbon still lay beneath her hand, and suddenly, all that had happened in the past few weeks stretched out before her, like fabric choices in a market. 

Paisley had trusted her with the fear she scarcely admitted to her own father. Tommy had promised to restrain himself because he wanted her to stay. Leaving would teach both children that every woman eventually disappeared, even one who had looked them in the eyes and promised otherwise.

Oscar had protected Daphne without knowing where she hid. By this morning, MacKane riders were preparing to defend Morrag. He had deceived Ceana at the festival, then placed the final decision in her hands once the truth became known.

Daphne’s letter had asked Ceana to choose a life of her own. Running merely because her sister had would be another way of following Daphne into a place she had never chosen.

“I want to proceed with the wedding,” Ceana declared.

Heather searched her face. “Why? Daenae tell me it is because ye gave yer word.”

“That matters to me. The children matter as well.” Ceana brushed the ribbon with her thumb. “Oscar has treated me with respect since we made our bargain, and he has kept every promise he made me.”

“Is that all he has done? Has he never frustrated ye? Nae even once?”

“Well, he has.” Heat rose beneath Ceana’s skin as she remembered the press of his mouth against hers. “He is skilled at that.”

Her mother’s expression softened with understanding, though she doubted it was for what she was thinking. 

“I cannae ken what sort of husband he would be until I marry him,” Ceana continued. “I want the chance to build somethin’ here. If I leave today, it will still be because I am afraid.”

Heather stood and held out her hand. Ceana took it, allowing her mother to pull her to her feet.

“Then I will walk ye as far as the garden,” Heather relented. “After that, every step is yers.”

When she reached for the pins again, Ceana stopped her. “Daenae arrange me hair like Daphne did hers for formal occasions.”

“How would ye like it?”

“Braid it as I have always preferred.”

Heather removed the pins already placed and divided Ceana’s hair into sections with her slender fingers. By the time she secured the braid, a soft knock sounded at the door.

Tommy pushed it open before anyone could answer, and Paisley entered behind him, carrying the second embroidered ribbon with both hands.

“Ye look finer than a queen,” Tommy complimented.

Paisley gave her brother a restrained look, then looked at Ceana and went very still. The relief on her face mingled with the uncertainty she had carried since learning of the wedding.

Ceana held out her hand. “Will ye carry yer ribbon into the garden and give it to the priest?”

Paisley’s fingers tightened around the ribbon. “Ye truly wish to use it?”

“I promised to keep it, and I meant what I said.”

The girl nodded, holding the ribbon closer to her breast.

“Thank ye for takin’ such care,” Ceana said. “It matters to me.”

Tommy smiled almost like a warrior entrusted with a border. He left with Paisley to take his place, managing to close the door softly after them.

Heather settled Ceana’s cloak around her shoulders, then offered her arm. They moved into the passage as the sounds of the gathering grew louder. Several voices carried through the open entrance, and a bench shifted across the grass. One distant bleat came from the stables.

At the foot of the stairs, a clanswoman leaned toward her companion. “That must be Lady Daphne, the bride Laird MacKane stole from Laird Angus.”

Mairi spoke up before Ceana could. “Her name is Lady Ceana Tulloch. She is the one marryin’ Laird MacKane, nae Lady Daphne.”

The correction was quiet enough to avoid spectacle. Its certainty followed Ceana to the garden entrance, where her father waited in his formal coat.

David looked at Heather first. Whatever he saw on her face made him turn toward Ceana with greater care.

“Do ye wish me to place yer hand in his?” he asked.

Ceana looked beyond him. Oscar stepped forward before the priest raised his hand, then checked himself as his gaze traveled over her with an intensity she felt through her gown. For one brief moment, his control faltered, and desire flashed hot in his eyes.

“Aye,” she said. “I want ye to take me to him.”

David offered his arm. As they walked down the aisle, Ceana kept her attention on Oscar. His dark, formal coat accentuated the breadth of his shoulders, and his scarred hand hung still at his side.

At the end of the aisle, David paused. Ceana gave him a small nod before he placed her hand in Oscar’s.

Oscar’s fingers closed around hers. His grip was gentle, though it tightened once their palms met.

“Ye’re beautiful,” he murmured.

The simple words reached the part of her still wounded by his apology.

She held his gaze until the priest stepped closer. She looked once toward her mother, who had offered her escape. Tommy stood near Oscar, his eyes fixed on them, while Paisley waited beside the ribbons.

Ceana drew in a deep breath. “I come of me own will, and I take Oscar Barr as me husband before God and those gathered here.”

Oscar’s thumb pressed over her pulse. “I come of me own will,” he said, “and I take Ceana Tulloch as me wife before God and those gathered here.”

Paisley approached with her embroidered ribbon. Heather brought the Morrag blue, and the priest wound both lengths around Ceana and Oscar’s joined hands. The cloth tightened gently around their wrists as the wind lifted one loose edge. Oscar’s palm covered hers, his thumb lingering against her pulse.

Once the vows were spoken, the priest pronounced them husband and wife.

Oscar kept hold of her hand as he stepped closer. His free hand settled on her waist, firm enough to send heat through the layers between them. He lowered his head until only she could hear his next words. 

“I have spent all day thinkin’ about kissin’ ye.”

Before she could answer, his mouth descended on hers. Ceana caught his sleeve and rose onto her tiptoes, kissing him back as his hand tightened around her waist.

The kiss lasted longer than anything Ceana thought the audience deserved. She forgot herself long enough to curl her fingers more tightly into his sleeve.

A cheer broke out somewhere behind them, and she startled against him. Oscar lifted his head slowly, but he did not release her. His face remained close enough that she could feel his breath against her lips.

“Ye could have warned me,” she whispered, fightin’ the smile already forming.

“I did.”

“Tellin’ me ye had been thinkin’ about it wasnae a warnin’.”

“It was the only one ye were gettin’.”

Her laugh escaped before she could stop it.

Another round of applause rose from the gathered clansmen. Tommy was shouting louder than anyone, while Paisley stood beside Heather with both hands over her smiling mouth.

Oscar finally loosened his hold, though his fingers slid across Ceana’s waist before leaving her completely.

“Come, wife,” he said quietly, and the single word sent another rush of heat through her.

Ceana placed her hand in his, and together they turned toward their families and the celebration waiting for them.

CHAPTER 12

Later that afternoon, Tommy caught Ceana’s hand just as Mairi pressed a cup of ale into the other.

“Come, the fiddler is ready.”

“Careful, Lady MacKane. Ye are about to wear yer drink,” Mairi warned, rescuing the tilting cup.

Ceana missed a step. Her fingers tightened around Tommy’s as she glanced over one shoulder, searching for the woman Mairi had addressed. No one stood behind her.

Heat from the fireplace pressed against her face, mingling with the warmth of bodies gathered between the tables that had been pushed against the walls.

Lady MacKane.

A pair of servants passed the ale around the nearest table while boots struck the cleared boards in time with the pipes. Tommy tugged on her hand again, before an elderly widow she learned was named Esther reached her and offered a formal nod.

“Welcome among us, me Lady. The lasses will ask for an audience when ye next visit the lower village. They usually discuss shortages and health issues with the lady of the clan. Questions about apprenticeships and disputed allotments may come as well.”

David watched from beside Heather. Beyond him, Oscar accepted a clansman’s congratulations, then looked at Ceana. Lennan hovered nearby, watchful as ever.

“I shall meet them during the visit,” Ceana said to Esther. “I can promise them me attention and honest effort, but some answers may take time.”

The widow’s mouth softened as Oscar gave a slight nod of approval. Two maids near the ale table exchanged relieved looks.

“I shall learn which women intend to come,” Mairi said, following Ceana and Tommy. “We can set aside some time before the market gets crowded.”

David’s gaze shifted to Oscar, measuring him.

“The first dance belongs to family,” Tommy declared.

An older clansman extended his hand toward Ceana. “Custom gives an elder the first turn with our new lady, lad.”

“I asked first.”

The man laughed. “Then our first judgment is yers, Lady MacKane.”

A wave of faces turned toward her, several still smiling.

“We shall dance a reel with every generation willin’ to survive Tommy’s feet,” Ceana decided.

“Me feet are perfectly safe,” Tommy said.

The elder accepted her ruling with a bow.

As the musicians began playing, Ceana glanced toward Paisley. The girl had folded her hands over her dress and edged back toward Heather. Her gaze flicked from Tommy’s hand to the elder’s.

Ceana turned away from the clansman and extended a hand toward her. “We cannae begin while one member of the family is missin’.”

Paisley hesitated. Then her eyes dropped to the embroidered ribbon, which Ceana had tied around her waist after the ceremony. Her shoulders relaxed, and she placed her hand in Ceana’s.

“Beside me,” Ceana said, drawing her into the set.

Tommy launched into the reel a beat ahead of the music and turned in the wrong direction. Paisley tried to pull him back into place until Ceana caught her hand.

“Laugh with him,” she murmured. “He will never learn if ye keep savin’ him.”

Paisley giggled as Tommy collided lightly with the elder, who spun him around and sent him back. When Paisley missed her next step, Ceana moved with her and turned the mistake into a second circle. No one else seemed to notice.

“Faither!” Tommy shouted across the set. “Ye must join us. Faithers count as family.”

Oscar stood several paces away. He shifted on his feet, and his gaze moved from Tommy to Paisley before settling on Ceana. He handed his untouched cup to Lennan and approached.

Tommy seized his wrist and hauled him into a spot meant for another dancer.

“Ye mean to defeat me through dancin’,” Oscar said. “I admire the strategy.”

Ceana laughed. He looked at her, his severe expression giving way to a faint smile.

The dance carried them apart. Tommy rushed the next turn and sent Ceana toward the neighboring couples. Oscar caught her around the waist before her shoulder struck another dancer. His palm spread firmly across her back and remained there even after she regained her balance. The pressure recalled their wedding kiss so sharply that her lips tingled and her stomach tightened.

Eventually, he had to release her. However, his eyes stayed on hers as Paisley took her hand for the next turn. Tommy led part of it with extravagant care, and Paisley laughed again when he nearly fumbled it.

For several moments, the four of them held the same pattern, with Oscar opposite Ceana and both children between them. When the final note faded, Paisley remained at Ceana’s side, and Ceana squeezed her hand before letting her go.

The musicians were tuning their instruments when movement at the entrance drew her eye. A messenger wearing Gilmore colors handed Lennan a sealed packet. He refused the cup a servant offered and departed without stepping further into the hall. Ceana watched as David’s face tightened, though Heather laid a hand on his arm before he could move.

Lennan brought the packet to Oscar, who examined the seal without breaking it.

“Keep it until mornin’.”

Lennan carried the packet away, and Oscar’s attention returned to Ceana. She was speaking with another clanswoman when he approached. He waited for the clanswoman to finish, then offered Ceana his hand.

“Ye have dedicated enough of the evenin’ to everyone else.”

She placed her fingers in his. “Lady MacKane has duties.”

“She also has a husband.”

“Must married people dance alone?” Tommy asked, loud enough for the nearest tables to hear.

Oscar’s hand closed around Ceana’s. “They must for this dance.”

“Husbands apparently grow impatient once the vows are spoken,” Ceana muttered.

Oscar regarded her for a moment before leading her to the cleared space.

The fiddler began a slow tune. Oscar raised her hand and set his other palm on her waist, holding her with firmer pressure than the dance required. He led each turn with a small movement of his fingers. His thumb brushed once across the fabric, and every step brought his body close to hers.

The heels continued striking the boards around them, cups touched tables near the wall, and laughter rose when another couple joined the dance. At the edge of a turn, Ceana spotted Oscar’s nearly full cup on the table beside Lennan.

“Ye seem to have recovered from regrettin’ the kiss.”

His hand guided her past another pair. “I regretted takin’ what ye hadnae offered.”

“And this mornin’? What had changed?”

“This mornin’, ye chose me.”

He turned her beneath their joined hands. When he drew her back, his palm settled lower on her waist and restored the space between them.

“Did the weddin’ kiss exhaust all the affection ye intend to show me?” she asked.

His fingers flexed. Over his shoulder, Ceana saw Heather notice the movement and turn quietly to David.

“If I acted on me wishes, I would take ye away from every person in this hall,” Oscar said tightly.

Ceana looked into his eyes. “So what is stoppin’ ye?”

He stopped for a beat, and she nearly stumbled against him before his hand steadied her. The couples around them continued to dance, forcing him to move again.

“I told ye. I daenae…”

“Ye daenae plan to consummate our marriage?”

His jaw hardened, and his eyes left hers as he guided her through another turn. The breath he drew before answering lifted his chest beneath her hand.

“I told ye I daenae plan to have more children. I ken too well the risks that come with that.” His fingers curled against her waist. “But I didnae say I meant to leave me wife untouched.”

Ceana’s fingers tightened on his shoulder. “That is a careful distinction.”

He drew her closer on the next turn until the warmth of his skin seeped through every layer between them. “Well, I can still make ye mine in every other sense, wife.” His voice roughened.

Heat coiled low in Ceana’s belly, stealing her words. She kept her eyes on him as he guided her through another turn and placed his body between her and most of the hall. He lowered his mouth to her ear, his breath tickling her skin. His voice dropped beneath the fiddle and stamping heels.

“Go to yer room and wait for me.”

Ceana missed the next step. Oscar steadied her and completed the final measures with formal precision, his hand remaining on her waist while she caught her breath. When the music ended, he released her and stepped back with full composure, like a laird before his clan. 

Ceana lifted her chin. Then she turned toward the stairs, his command echoing in her mind. 

Great. Just great.

Her knees threatened to shorten every step, and her breath caught in her chest. She gathered a fistful of her dress to steady her trembling fingers, held her shoulders straight, and crossed the hall without hurrying.

The guests glanced up as she passed, and two older women near the fireplace exchanged knowing looks. Leaving a wedding celebration early invited an easy conclusion.

Ceana could not tell whether anyone had heard what Oscar had told her. Still, heat lingered in her face and spread down her neck.

Mairi met her beside the stairs. “Do ye need help, me Lady?”

“Nay, thank ye. I can manage.”

Mairi studied her for one moment and then lowered her head. “As ye wish.”

Ceana paused on the first step when she saw her mother and Paisley step out of the hall. “I expect to see ye at breakfast,” she said.

Paisley searched her face, glanced back into the hall, then looked at her again. “Aye. Good night, Ceana.”

“Good night, Paisley.”

Ceana climbed up the stairs. At the turn, she looked back despite herself. Oscar stood beside her father while an elderly clansman spoke to him, his eyes fixed on her. A fresh pulse of heat curled low in her belly.

His gaze followed her until the staircase blocked the hall from view. Inside her chamber, she closed the door and left the latch raised.

A low fire burned steadily in the grate. Fresh water waited in the tub, and candles lit the turned-down bed. Ceana untied the ceremonial ribbons from her waist and laid them on a chair. Paisley’s silver stitching glinted in the candlelight. She smoothed it flat before her fingers rose to the laces of her gown. One pull would loosen it.

But then she lowered her hand and poured herself some water. The cup touched her lower lip twice before she managed to take a proper sip. After setting it down, she crossed to the fireplace and shifted a log that required no attention.

She sat on the edge of the bed, felt the folded blanket beneath her palm, and rose. The bedding made every uncertainty too easy to picture. At the dressing table, she checked the pins that had been loosened by the dancing and pressed them securely into place.

She and Oscar had agreed to live separate lives. After the kiss outside her chamber, he apologized and refused to say whether he regretted it. The wedding kiss and his command in the hall had proved his desire, but neither indicated how he would speak to her at breakfast.

She touched Paisley’s ribbon again. She had chosen Oscar before witnesses and claimed a place with his children. Her sister and clan’s safety could explain her choice, but waiting alone in her chamber wasn’t something she could blame anyone else for.

The music below continued. One tune ended, and another began before the main doors opened. Voices sounded in the lower corridor as guests departed.

“Take two men and see him safely home,” she heard Oscar instruct.

The music carried on after his order, but he did not come to her.

Later, Tommy’s voice sounded in the corridor outside her chamber. “I only wished to say goodnight.”

“Ye already said it,” Oscar answered quietly. “Back to bed, lad.”

Their footsteps retreated, and the tightness beneath her ribs eased. Oscar had gone to his children before coming to her.

For a time, she only heard the slow music below. Footsteps sounded in the corridor again, and her fingers closed around the back of the chair she stood beside. But they passed her door and continued toward the servants’ stairs.

Perhaps Oscar had regained control. Perhaps he also regretted his command.

She caught the laces of her gown between her fingers. She could undo them and go to bed. Doing so would make the decision for him and conceal the answer she meant to give.

She released the laces and crossed to the door. Her hand hovered over the raised latch. Lowering it would end the wait.

She left it untouched.

Footsteps entered the corridor again, slower and heavier than the last. They stopped outside her chamber. The door opened, revealing Oscar in his wedding attire.

He stepped inside, his eyes glinting with something she couldn’t describe. Then he closed the door behind him and lowered the latch.

CHAPTER 13

Oscar dropped his hand.

It hung at his side while the music below beat faintly through the floorboards. His shoulders remained rigid beneath his coat, and his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. His gaze moved from her face to the laces she had touched while waiting, and one scarred hand opened and closed.

He had commanded her upstairs. And now that he was here, with no one watching, he held himself several paces away.

“If ye want me gone, say it.”

Ceana blinked. “Ye ordered me to wait for ye.”

“That was downstairs. Ye have the freedom to choose again.”

She crossed to him and laid her palm over his heartbeat. “Stay.”

His fingers closed around her wrist. “If ye want me to stop, tell me.”

“I will. And ye will listen.”

“Aye.”

She searched his face. “Do ye always break yer promises so quickly?”

“Ye are the one who tested me.”

“A laird ought to survive one question.”

“It wasnae the question.”

“Then what was it?”

His gaze traveled over her slowly before returning to her face. “It was the invitation.”

Heat spread across her cheeks, though she kept her hand against his chest. “Then I meant it.”

A cheer rose from the hall.

Oscar released her and crossed to the window. He drew the inner shutters closed, dulling the music to a pulse beneath the floor. The celebration continued beneath them in muffled fragments. He then went to the chest, unbuckled his sword belt, and laid the weapon across the lid.

Each slow step gave her time to refuse the next. When he stopped before her at last, he reached around her and waited.

“Aye,” she whispered, then turned.

He undid the laces. Each pull released another eyelet, and the gown grew loose around her ribs while his knuckles brushed her through the linen of her dress. With each released eyelet, more of the gown’s weight settled into his hands.

Ceana held her breath until it hurt, then let it out slowly. Halfway down her back, she caught his wrist and turned around. “I want to see ye.”

He reached around her again and undid the remaining laces while she watched his face. She eased one sleeve from her shoulder, and he guided the other down her arm. The heavy wool slipped to her waist before he lowered it to the floor.

Oscar carried the gown to the chair. Paisley’s embroidered ribbon slid from the folds, its end falling toward the floorboards. He caught it and placed it on top, smoothing the silver stitching with his thumb.

Ceana swallowed thickly and went to him. Her first attempt at unfastening his coat failed. Oscar covered her hand with his, guided the hook free, then let her continue. His coat opened beneath her hands. She pushed it off his shoulders and loosened the ties of his shirt, grazing warm skin with her knuckles. He watched until she lifted the linen over his head.

Scars marred his body. Lots and lots of them. 

“Oh,” she gasped.

A pale line marked one shoulder. At his ribs, a thick scar pulled the skin when he breathed. Ceana pressed both palms against his chest. The beat under her right hand was faster than the one she had felt through his coat.

She brushed her fingertips over the scar on his ribs. “This one?”

“A blade.”

She traced the raised edge, and his body tightened beneath her touch. He caught her hand and pressed her palm flat over the scar.

She rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him.

Oscar went still beneath the first brush of her lips. His hand rose to her waist when she kissed him again, firmer this time. He gave her a breath to retreat, but she curled her fingers around his neck and opened her mouth beneath his.

He drew her against his chest, deepening the kiss with the care he had used on her laces, though his restraint had begun to fray. Ceana kissed him harder, coaxing a rough sound from his throat. When his mouth moved away, she followed it.

Oscar looked down at her, his breathing ragged. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and pulled him back by the nape of his neck. His hand curled around her waist as he kissed her again, nudging her one step back. He followed until her knees met the mattress and she was forced to sit down.

He stood between her knees, his lips swollen from their kiss, and reached for the tie at the neck of her shift. But then he paused.

“Take it off,” she demanded.

Together they lifted the linen over her head. Cool air kissed her heated skin. Her hands rose on instinct before she lowered them to the blanket and allowed him to look his fill.

His gaze shifted to the faint mark above her breast. “Did the dress hurt ye?”

“Nay.”

His thumb passed over the mark. “Tell me if I do.”

He kissed it, his mouth following the curve toward her breast, and her fingers curled into the blanket. When his lips closed around her nipple, her breath stuttered. He watched her face as he sucked on her until she moaned. He then released her nipple and trailed kisses to her throat.

Ceana ran her hands over the firm muscles of his shoulders and the scars across his back. Every time her fingers found one, he drew a sharp breath.

He gently laid her on the bed and followed, bracing his weight above her. He trailed kisses over her stomach, down to the inside of her knee, then slowly up her thigh. The first brush of his fingers against her sex startled a yelp from her.

He stopped. “Look at me.”

She raised her head. His hand remained still against her thigh.

“Do ye want me to touch ye?”

“Aye.”

His mouth curved faintly. “Good.”

His fingers moved again and found the swollen spot right above her heat. It made her hips buck. The sensation was too sharp at first, then softened when he eased the pressure.

“There?” he asked.

“Aye. Again.”

He obeyed.

Her thighs trembled with each patient stroke of his fingers. When she arched into him, he kissed the inside of her knee and moved higher, giving her time to get used to the sensation. The feeling briefly startled her before she settled into it again.

“May I?”

She opened her legs further. “Aye.”

His mouth found her right as her heel dragged across the blanket, and her hand curled into his hair. He slowed his ministrations when she tensed, then followed the rocking of her hips when she stopped trying to hold them still.

“Oscar.” He lifted his head and met her gaze. “Daenae stop.”

He dove back between her legs.

Each breath broke past her lips as the pressure in her core grew. She moved with him, learning which small tilt made her pleasure climb fastest. Her inner walls clenched around him, and she cried out his name as climax crashed over her.

As the aftershocks receded, she lay breathing hard while his palm stroked up and down her leg.

As soon as she could lift her arm, she reached for him. He came over her, and she slid her hand down his body. His eyes closed for one breath as he guided her hand to the bulge in his breeches. Her fingers curled around him, and his jaw clenched, his hips bucking into her palm.

“Again?” she asked.

He caught her wrist and kissed it; his rough breath was answer enough.

After a while, he removed the last layer between them and settled between her thighs.

His gaze moved down her body and settled on her lower belly. Then his weight shifted away, and his hand left her hip. He sat back on the edge of the bed, his jaw tight. Without his warmth near, she felt more of the cool air.

He had seen all of her and still changed his mind.

“What is wrong?”

Oscar turned his face away and curled one hand against his thigh. “I cannae risk puttin’ a bairn inside ye.”

Ceana pushed herself upright and reached for his arm. “There is nay bairn to risk.”

His head snapped toward her. “Ye cannae promise me that.”

“I can. There is somethin’ I should tell ye.”

Oscar narrowed his eyes, and she tightened her grip on him.

“I cannae bear children.”

Oscar’s hand stopped above the breeches he had discarded beside the bed. For one breath, he remained as still as anything, every muscle tense. Then he straightened and turned.

Ceana could read nothing on his face. His gaze held hers until she reached for the blanket and drew it over her breasts. The cover offered little comfort. He had already seen and touched every part of her. 

“Who told ye that?”

“Nay one had to tell me.”

His brow furrowed. “Then how do ye ken?”

Ceana’s hands tightened on the blanket. “Daphne was born first. I came after her, so I am counted the second daughter.” She watched his face and found no help there. “Every second daughter born to second daughters in me maither’s line has failed to bear children. Everyone kens it. I heard it spoken as fact before I was old enough to understand why it mattered.”

Oscar drew nearer. “And ye have proof other than the tale?”

Her throat tightened. “Me courses arenae regular. Sometimes they are late by weeks. Sometimes longer. It began the same way for the others, or so me maither said.”

She had put together the pieces years ago. Speaking them before a naked man who had just drawn away from her made the conclusion plain again for some odd reason. 

“That is why nay man wanted me.”

Oscar stared at her. A muscle ticked in his jaw before he spoke again. “Ridiculous. Any man with eyes would want ye.”

“Every man with eyes kens the second daughter of a second daughter in me maither’s line cannae bear children.”

He crossed the remaining distance between them and stopped beside the bed. “I took Ceana Tulloch as me wife, nae the promise of bairns.” His fingers closed around the carved bedpost. “Ye deserve to be wanted because ye are ye, wife.”

Her eyes stung. She blinked until the candle flames stood clear again.

Oscar looked down at the blanket gathered in her hands. “The moment I saw ye, I wanted to worship ye.”

Ceana let the blanket fall to her waist and rose onto her knees. She caught his hand and pressed it over her breast. “Then show me.”

His thumb moved once across her skin before he pulled his hand away. “Do ye truly believe ye cannae conceive?”

“Aye. I have believed it all me life.”

His breathing slowed as his gaze held hers, dark with desire. “If I come back to that bed, I willnae be able to stop.”

She swallowed. “I daenae want ye to.”

Oscar climbed back onto the bed and kissed her again. His fingers found her still wet and stroked her slowly until her hips bucked.

“Still ready for me?” he murmured.

“Aye.” Ceana opened her legs further and guided him closer.

He braced himself above her on one forearm, the blunt head of his manhood pressing against her entrance. He paused for a moment and searched her face. She wrapped one leg around his hip and pulled him closer. Then he pushed the head inside her. 

The pressure stretched into a sharp pain that made her tense around him.

“Wait.”

Oscar stopped. His muscles shook with the effort of holding still, but he gave her no further inch. He kissed her mouth, then her cheek, keeping his weight off her while his free hand moved between them.

“Look at me,” he said. “Tell me what ye need.”

“I want ye… to take yer time.”

His thumb circled her sensitive bud, sending a bolt of pleasure through her. He watched her face and adjusted the pressure when she moaned.

Ceana tried a small lift of her hips. The movement stung, though less sharply than before. Oscar remained still inside her while she tried again, finding an angle that let her body receive him.

“Now,” she whispered.

He slid in a fraction deeper and waited for her breath to settle. The first strokes were easy. Ceana kept her leg around his hip and followed each withdrawal, learning his rhythm and the pull of her own body. The pain eventually ebbed, leaving delicious friction in its wake.

Her grip loosened on his shoulder. She drew him down for a kiss, and when he moved again, her hips rose to meet him. Oscar made a rough sound into her mouth.

“More,” she moaned.

His next thrust was harder. Ceana caught his lower lip between hers, then released it with a broken breath. His pace quickened each time she met him, while his hand continued stroking her bud.

“That’s it, wife,” he rasped. “Look at me.”

Ceana held his gaze as he drove into her. The pleasure that his thumb had stirred spread through her belly, growing with every stroke. She shifted her hips, and the new angle tore a cry from her.

Oscar slowed his pace at once.

“Again,” she begged. “Like that. Please.”

He gave her the same deep stroke, and she pulled him down until his chest was flush against hers.

“Ye are holdin’ back,” she said against his mouth.

“I am tryin’ to spare ye.”

“I will tell ye if ye hurt me.” She tightened her legs around his hips. “Ye have made me ask long enough.”

His expression shifted, and his hand tightened on the blanket near her head. “Ye have tested me long enough,” he growled.

His thrusts quickened after that, and she met each one, pulling him closer whenever he withdrew. His thumb pressed on her bud with each deep stroke until pleasure gathered too quickly for her to catch her breath.

“Oscar.” She caught his face and made him look at her. “Daenae stop.”

He kept thrusting into her until her body clenched around him in quick pulses, each one spreading through her limbs. His name escaped her lips in a cry, louder this time. He kissed her through the aftershocks, his thrusts becoming erratic.

He tried to lift off her, but she wound her arms around his shoulders. “Stay with me.”

Oscar went still, still buried deep inside her. His eyes found hers, the warning plain in them.

“Ceana,” he groaned.

“Please.”

He shuddered as he spilled inside her. One breath passed, then another. The hand on her waist tightened until his fingers pressed into her skin. Every trace of pleasure had vanished from his face. He stared at a point above her head, breathing through parted lips.

Ceana touched his cheek. “Oscar?”

His gaze returned to her, and his grip on her waist loosened at once. “Did I hurt ye?”

“Just a little at first.” She brushed her thumb across the scar near his jaw. “I am sore now, though I can bear it.”

He withdrew ever so slowly. The movement stirred a tender ache, and Ceana flinched before she could conceal it. Oscar, however, saw it. 

He climbed off the bed and crossed to the washbasin. There, he grabbed a cloth and dipped it in the water. Ceana pushed herself upright and reached for it when he returned.

He kept hold of the cloth. “Let me.”

She looked at his face, then lay back and opened her legs again. “All right.”

Oscar tested the damp cloth against the inside of his wrist. His touch was practical as he cleaned her, each pass gentle over the tender skin. When her left thigh tensed, he stopped and moved the cloth to a less sensitive spot.

“There?” he asked.

“A little sore.”

He reduced the pressure.

Those same hands could draw a sword, bind a wound, or wash dirt from Tommy’s scraped knee without making the boy feel helpless. He worked quietly, watching her response more closely than his hand.

When he finished, he rinsed the cloth and then grabbed a fresh nightgown from the chest.

“Can ye stand?”

“Aye, though I willnae do it gracefully.”

Oscar offered her his arm. The first step pulled at tender muscles, and his grip shifted beneath her elbow until she could stand straight. He gathered the nightgown and guided her arms through the sleeves, then drew the linen down her body. Her hair caught beneath the collar, and he freed it strand by strand before smoothing it over her shoulders.

Before returning her to bed, he pressed a cup into her hands. “Drink.”

Ceana drank.

When she finished, he took the empty cup, helped her back to bed, and pulled the blanket over her.

He restored order to the room in silence. He covered her wedding gown where it lay on the chair, leaving Paisley’s embroidered ribbon visible on top. His sword remained on the chest. After pulling off the stockings he had left on in his haste, he extinguished all but one candle and came back to bed.

He lay on his back beside her. Ceana waited for his arm, then understood from the rigid line of his shoulders that he had no embrace to give. Still, he remained. He reached across once to free a lock of hair trapped beneath her cheek and raised the blanket under her chin.

The space between their bodies troubled her more after his care. She knew now what those hands could offer when he allowed them to work. She also knew just how far he could close himself off if determined.

“Good night, wife.”

Oscar laid his hand on the blanket between them and slowly curled it into a fist. He did not sleep.

CHAPTER 14

Ceana turned toward Oscar’s side of the bed before she was fully awake.

The tenderness between her thighs checked the movement. She sucked in a sharp breath and lay still beneath the blanket, conscious of the unfamiliar heaviness in her limbs and the linen sheet brushing her hip. The deep hollow beside her remained; the blankets were rumpled at the foot of the bed.

Oscar stood near the fireplace, fastening his shirt. The morning light caught the scars across his hands as he worked each tie into place. Ceana watched those hands, now aware of the care they could show.

He looked up, and his gaze dropped when she shifted again and winced, then returned to her face. Without comment, he poured water into the cup beside the basin and brought it to her.

“Mairi is waitin’ outside. She will come in when ye summon her.”

Ceana reached for the cup and tried to sit. The soreness between her legs sharpened, forcing her to brace one palm against the mattress.

“Take me hand,” Oscar offered.

His grip was firm enough to lift her and careful enough to make every place he had touched the night before tingle. Once she was sitting upright with the sheet gathered beneath her arms, their eyes met. Oscar glanced at the blanket over her thighs, his breath deepening.

“Heather and David mean to leave after breakfast,” he said.

Her fingers tightened around the cup. “Today?”

“Aye.”

Mairi entered at Ceana’s call and helped her wash and dress while Oscar finished lacing his boots. He waited until the maid had fastened her gown before leaving.

Ceana entered the breakfast room more slowly than usual and chose the chair with the thickest cushion. A letter bearing a broken Gilmore seal lay beside David’s plate, attached to an open, stained packet.

Oscar sat at the head of the table with one hand beside his cup, composed enough to make the man from the night before seem like an entirely different person. He cast a glance at his wife, taking in the gentle way she lowered herself into her chair. His thumb pressed once against the rim of his cup.

David folded the letter. “Bryce calls Daphne’s escape a breach of the alliance we discussed. Yer marriage is named as a second insult against his house.”

“What does he intend to do?” Ceana asked.

“He demands an answer or satisfaction, but he gives nay honest shape to either.” The strain around his eyes had deepened since the wedding celebration.

Heather reached across the table and put her hand on his. “We must return to Morrag. If Daphne comes home or sends word, I willnae have her find us gone.”

“And Bryce may try to attack our tenants while he thinks us divided,” David added. “I need to go back to Morrag before he starts thinkin’ that our silence means weakness.”

Ceana set down the loaf she had grabbed and picked up a spoon. “Ye would be ridin’ toward the danger he has threatened.”

“Lennan will instruct men to escort ye,” Oscar said. “They will remain with ye until ye are safely in Morrag land.”

David’s shoulders stiffened. “Havin’ MacKane soldiers escort us may look like a challenge.”

“They are protection,” Oscar countered. “Any man who sees a challenge in a guarded carriage has already come lookin’ for one.”

David held his gaze, then tucked the letter in the packet.

Tommy had abandoned his porridge during the talk of alliances and borders. He looked from Oscar to Ceana. “What changed when ye married her?”

Ceana’s spoon paused above her bowl.

“Ceana already lives here,” he continued. “She eats with us, and she comes to family hour.”

Every answer that occurred to Ceana belonged upstairs, behind closed doors. She shifted in her seat and regretted it at once. From where he was, Oscar caught the small tightening of her mouth, and his fingers closed around his cup.

“She is still Ceana,” he replied. “But she is also Lady MacKane now.”

Tommy frowned. “What does a lady do?”

Oscar looked at Ceana before answering. “Our people may bring her their troubles. She must learn our customs, and we must learn her judgment.”

Paisley lifted her eyes from her bread. She studied Ceana, one thumb pressing into the crust.

“I will take ye to the village this afternoon,” Oscar continued. “Ye should see how our people live before their troubles reach this table.”

Ceana raised her eyebrows. “Will I be permitted to speak, or will I only be permitted to watch?”

“If I wanted silence, I wouldnae take ye.”

Heather hid a smile behind her cup. David pushed back his chair, and the meal gave way to the final preparations for their departure.

In the courtyard, Heather wrapped both arms around Ceana and held her close. She searched her daughter’s face before pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Send word at once if Daphne contacts ye,” she whispered in her ear. “Any word, even a single line.”

“I will.” Ceana held her a moment longer before turning to her father.

He took both her hands. “Take care of yerself, Lady MacKane.”

His thumbs pressed against her knuckles, a familiar gesture from childhood, while MacKane riders waited by their horses.

“Take Bryce seriously,” she urged. “Please.”

“I do, lass.” His mouth tightened as he glanced toward the carriage.

Oscar called the escort leader forward. “Keep the carriage between ye. Stop only where ye can hold the road, and send word the moment Laird Morrag reaches his land.”

The man repeated the orders, mounted, and signaled the others into place.

Heather and David left beneath Morrag colors, with MacKane riders guarding the front and rear. Ceana watched until the carriage passed through the outer gate and vanished around the bend.

Oscar came to stand beside her, his sleeve a hairsbreadth away from hers. “This afternoon ye’ll meet yer people,” he said, his voice sharp.

Later that afternoon, they took the road curving down the hillside. Tommy and Paisley were already ahead with Ness. Lennan followed at a discreet distance, ready if they needed him.

Oscar walked beside Ceana. The downward slope pulled at muscles still tender from the previous night, and her next step shortened. He noticed, matched her pace, and said nothing.

Soon, they cleared the first row of cottages.

Ceana had expected the villagers to guard their speech before their Laird. A fruit seller came to the roadside, and Oscar asked whether the repaired thatch above her fireplace had held through the last rain. The miller joined them from the lane.

“How many sacks are waitin’?” Oscar asked.

“Seven, me Laird. I can have them ready by Friday.”

“See Mrs. Bain’s grain ground tomorrow. Her meal willnae last until Friday.”

A small boy waved from a doorway. “Good day, me Laird.”

Oscar answered with the same gravity he had shown the miller, and the child stood taller.

Ceana noticed that he remembered matters reported days or weeks ago. He checked the roof after its repair and knew which household could not endure any more delay.

Warmth coiled low in her belly, close to the mild soreness she felt with every step. Oscar caught her watching, but did not smile. His eyes held hers while the miller moved away, and she looked toward the green first.

A silver-haired woman waited near the market tables with both hands folded over a stout walking stick. 

“That is Elspeth Kerr,” Oscar whispered to her as the woman approached them. “Bit of a firebrand, this one, so just… keep calm.” 

“I see,” Ceana muttered. 

“Lady MacKane,” Elspeth said. Her greeting was correct and measured. She turned to the man and the woman beside her. “Morna and Callum have a matter to discuss with ye. His cow broke through their dyke and ate her winter greens.”

Morna’s mouth pinched. “The whole plot, me Lady. I want payment for all of it.”

“The dyke was crumblin’ already,” Callum argued. “I brought stones for the repair. She left them where I dropped them.”

Elspeth faced Ceana. “Will Lady MacKane judge the matter?”

Ceana looked at Oscar. She would not take authority he had yet to place in her hands.

“They have brought the matter to ye,” he reminded her.

Callum shifted his weight. “With respect, me Lady, ye have never seen the dyke.”

“Then tell me what I have yet to see.” The people nearest the tables turned toward her. “How many rows did ye plant, Morna?”

“Eight.”

“How many remain untouched?”

Morna hesitated. “Three. And part of a fourth.”

“Has yer cow broken anythin’ before?” Ceana asked Callum.

His gaze dropped. “She pushed through a weak fence in spring.”

“Who was to maintain that section?” she asked.

Elspeth confirmed that the dyke belonged to both households. Callum had supplied loose stone without labor, and Morna could not lift the larger pieces herself, so the gap remained.

Ceana’s mother had taught her to ask which foods were truly lost and what each household could give without going hungry.

“Callum will replace the greens his cow destroyed and give one day’s labor to rebuild the dyke,” Ceana decided. “Morna will accept the stones and send someone from her household on that same day. Ye will share the repair, as ye share the boundary. Neither of ye will claim payment for the rows left sound. A barrier must stand there until the stones are set.”

Callum pressed his lips together. Morna looked once toward the untouched rows, visible beyond the cottages. Neither had gotten what they wanted; it was perfectly clear from the way they both bowed.

Oscar waited until they stepped back. “Lady MacKane’s ruling stands. Lennan, see that they have a barrier before dark.”

Lennan called two men toward the sheds.

The villagers continued watching Ceana.

As Morna and Callum left, Oscar whispered in her ear, “I would have made Callum replace the entire plot.”

“His cow didnae destroy the entire plot, and full payment would still leave the dyke broken.”

He studied her. “Aye. Ye heard what they needed beneath what they demanded.” His gaze flicked to Elspeth. “Bring the next matter to her as well.”

Two young men had been throwing smooth stones toward a stick while the dispute was heard. Their argument now drew several children. One stone lay further away, though a track in the damp earth showed where it had rolled.

“What do ye think, me Lady?” Elspeth asked.

Ceana called Paisley over. “Show me where each stone first struck.”

Paisley examined the tracks with grave attention, then planted one heel in each hollow. The cleaner throw had first touched the ground beyond the other throw. Ceana awarded it the win.

“Mine traveled farther,” the loser protested.

“Oh well, next time it most certainly will.”

Even Callum smiled as the others laughed.

Across the green, Oscar watched Ceana with the sharp attention he had given her behind closed doors. Her breath caught before Elspeth reclaimed her attention.

“Ye must attend our fire festival in three months,” Elspeth said. “We build the fires here, and anyone bold enough may attempt the jump. The Laird judges the highest clean crossing.”

Ceana’s interest was piqued.

“And I record each one,” Elspeth continued when Oscar drew nearer. “Any boot or hem that clips the fire is struck out. The winner is held fortunate through the next season.”

“May I question the Laird’s judgment?” Ceana asked.

“The village will expect ye to.”

“Elspeth encourages disorder whenever she can,” Oscar interjected, a small smile on his face.

Ceana met the widow’s bright gaze. “Then I shall attend.”

A young mother nearby watched Tommy balance along a low stone ledge with his arms spread. “Children grow up before anyone is ready,” she commented. “Ye’ll ken it when ye have another little one runnin’ around yer skirts.”

For an instant, Ceana saw a small child stumble after Tommy, dark hair fluttering in the wind and one hand reaching for Oscar. The image made her chest tighten.

“Tommy and Paisley already seem determined to grow up too quickly,” she said.

Paisley had heard. Her eyes moved from Ceana to Oscar, her earlier interest replaced by a guarded look.

“Will ye teach me which jumps count as clean?” Ceana asked her.

Paisley raised her chin with tentative confidence. “Both feet must clear the flame, and yer clothes cannae touch it either. Elspeth sees everythin’.”

At that moment, Lennan approached with a tenant from the eastern border. The man twisted his cap between calloused hands as he told them that two cattle were missing and that he had seen several riders near the border that morning. According to him, one wore Gilmore colors, though he could not identify their faces.

Oscar’s shoulders tensed. He asked how many riders there were, which way they traveled, where the tracks began, and when the tenant last saw them.

“Send scouts along the border,” he instructed Lennan. “Move the nearest stock inward and warn the other tenants. I willnae have talk of war carried from door to door.”

Ceana stepped closer. “Do ye believe this is connected to the letter?”

“I will ken when me men return. Until then, I willnae give Bryce guilt he hasnae earned.”

As Lennan opened his mouth to respond, a cry cut across the green.

Tommy sat beside the stone ledge, clutching his knee. Ceana and Oscar moved at once. She reached him first and kneeled, though the quick movement pulled sharply at tender muscles. She drew him against her, and his tears dampened her shoulder.

“It stings,” he sobbed.

“Aye, it does.” Ceana moved his hand aside and examined the scrape. Blood beaded on his skin, surrounded by dirt. “Can ye bend yer knee for me?”

He bent his knee, crying harder. Ceana wiped the loose dirt away with her handkerchief and held him close again.

Oscar kneeled beside them and set one hand on Tommy’s back. He looked at his son curled up against Ceana before raising his eyes to her face. His mouth was set in the same tight line from the previous night.

“I want to go home,” Tommy mumbled.

“Then home we shall go. We will make yer favorite honeyed bannocks in the kitchen.”

Paisley crouched beside them. “He will drop the meal.”

“I willnae,” Tommy said, his wet face lifting from Ceana’s shoulder. “Me knee is injured.”

Oscar waited until the boy released her, then lifted him.

“Da, ye must come too.”

Oscar settled him against his chest and looked over Tommy’s shoulder at Ceana. “I will make sure that ye daenae destroy the kitchen in the process.”

Paisley slipped her hand into Ceana’s.

Oscar glanced once toward the eastern ridge, then turned around. “Let’s go home.”

CHAPTER 15

Oscar crossed the kitchen threshold behind Ceana and Paisley, still carrying Tommy.

Ceana hiked up her skirts and went straight to the worktable. “Warm water and clean linen, please.”

The cook stopped midway through an instruction. The kitchen maids fell silent too when they spotted Oscar. He usually came to the kitchen for storage or to give an urgent order.

“Carry on,” he ordered, setting Tommy on a sturdy stool.

The boy saw the honey pot warming near the fireplace and began to wriggle. “I can stand, Da. Me knee feels better now.”

“A better knee can still be washed,” Ceana said. She kneeled with a bowl of warm water and pressed a damp cloth to the scrape. “Tell me when it hurts.”

“There.” Tommy gripped the stool.

Ceana paused for a moment, then gently cleaned the last of the dirt from the wound. Once she had tied clean linen around his knee, she rose and faced the cook.

“What can the kitchen spare for one batch of honeyed bannocks?”

“We have oatmeal and flour enough for a modest batch,” the cook replied. “Warm milk as well, me Lady. I can spare butter and honey to finish them.”

“Then we shall make do handsomely.” Ceana rolled her sleeves to her forearms.

Flour and oatmeal went into a wooden bowl. She rubbed butter through the oatmeal, then added warm milk while Tommy stirred from his stool. She laughed when he claimed the spoon as the rightful reward for his suffering and also warned him that his injured knee didn’t mean he had any more rights than usual over the bannocks.

Paisley watched from beyond the worktable.

“Can ye shape them evenly and judge when they require turnin’?” Ceana asked.

“I have helped the cook before.”

“Good. Ye must show me how thin the next round should be.”

The cook gave Paisley a wooden knife and placed her beside the girdle. When the dough held together, Paisley shaped the first bannock and laid it on the hot iron. She waited for the bottom to set before sliding the blade beneath it.

“That is quite a clean turn, Lady Paisley,” the cook praised.

Paisley straightened and shaped the next bannock. Ceana held up her own piece of dough for the girl’s judgment, then pressed it thinner at her direction.

Oscar had meant to settle Tommy, decide whether a healer was needed, and return to Lennan’s questions about the eastern border. Instead, he remained beside the table and watched as Ness appeared in the doorway with her nose raised toward the oats.

“Keep that creature away from the girdle,” the cook warned.

“She may stay by the door if Tommy keeps her there,” Ceana said.

Tommy placed a dry heel from the scrap bowl near the threshold. “Stay, Ness. I am responsible for ye.”

Ceana pressed the last dough beneath her palm, flour coating her fingers and the inside of her wrist. She laughed when Tommy pulled the spoon from the thick mixture and nearly sent it over his shoulder. She moved among the children as if she had occupied the kitchen for years.

Those flour-marked hands had cleaned his son’s wound and placed real responsibility in his daughter’s grasp. Oscar found it quite fascinating how she had managed to give each child a place without demanding attention for herself.

The cook glanced at him. “Do ye require anythin’, me Laird?”

“I came to determine whether Tommy’s wound required a healer or merely honey.” He studied his son’s intent face. “If honeyed bannocks can cure a scraped knee, then half me warriors will be limpin’ by supper.”

Ceana’s eyes brightened, and her mouth curved. “Then ye had better guard the honey stores.”

A few oats dropped near the table, making Ness abandon the crust and cross the room. Oscar turned just in time to watch Tommy spring from the stool, gasping when the scrape pulled. 

“Tommy, wait!”

The boy caught the table to steady himself, but it was too late. His elbow struck the shallow bowl used to dust the work surface just as Oscar caught him beneath the arms. 

The bowl tipped across Oscar’s shoulder, sleeve, and chest before the remaining flour spilled over the board. Luckily, the spill missed the bannocks and the hot girdle.

For the better half of a minute, every servant stopped moving.

Tommy regained his feet and placed himself before Ness. “She only followed what I dropped.” His chin trembled. “Please, Da, daenae send her away.”

Oscar looked down at his hands and the flour all over them. He could feel some on his face as well, but one problem at a time.

“Take her back and tie her lead securely,” he instructed. “Then return to yer stool.”

Tommy obeyed.

Behind him, Ceana stifled a chuckle. Oscar turned slowly to look at her, blowing the last of the flour from his lips. He narrowed his eyes at her, studying the way her lips pressed together. 

“Does me appearance amuse ye?” he drawled.

Ceana covered her mouth, trying to muffle a proper laugh this time. “I suppose the flour has made ye look less alarmin’.”

She brushed his shoulder, leaving flour on his coat. Oscar looked down at it, his lips parting, then looked back up at her. 

“Really?”

“Aye, really.”

He brushed some flour from his sleeve and drew a line across her cheek.

“Da struck first!” Tommy shouted.

Paisley laughed before quickly covering her mouth.

“Ye must judge us,” Ceana said. “Which of us started this war?”

“Faither did.” Paisley marked his other sleeve with one flour-dusted finger. “This is his punishment.”

Oscar examined it gravely. “I accept the rulin’.”

Paisley laughed again as the cook moved before the flour bin. 

Oscar raised one hand. “The bin remains closed. Ye may only use what has spilled on the board.”

Ceana swept two fingers through the flour and reached for him. He dodged her and followed when she retreated around the worktable. Near its end, he caught her flour-covered wrist.

“Is this how Lady MacKane governs her household?”

“Only when Laird MacKane requires correction.”

He brushed his thumb over her cheek, spreading the flour closer to her mouth. He then stared at the pale streak, remembering the press of her fingers and the heat of her mouth on his on their wedding night.

Ceana’s laughter faded. Her breath brushed his knuckles, and her gaze dropped to his lips.

“Release our lady,” Paisley demanded.

“Aye,” Tommy said. “She has bannocks to cure me.”

Oscar opened his hand. The children marked his back with flour-dusted fingers while he pretended to turn too late, their shrieks filling the kitchen. The cook watched him for a heartbeat, then struck the wooden knife against the table.

“The bannocks need to be flipped before they burn.”

Ceana returned to the girdle and spread warmed honey across each bannock. Tommy received the first and requested another before swallowing two bites.

“Me knee may require a second,” he said.

“The first has cured yer knee,” Ceana replied. “A second would be just greed.”

Paisley chose the least even bannock and set it before Oscar. “This one is yers. Ye interrupted me shapin’.”

He ate it at the kitchen table.

Tommy forgot about his wound until he jumped from the stool and hissed. Ceana set him back on it with a reminder that feeling better did not mean he had healed, while the maids resumed their duties around them.

Mairi appeared in the doorway, saw Oscar seated with his flour-streaked family, and withdrew without interrupting. Paisley laughed again without searching his face because honey was stuck around Tommy’s fingers. Across the table, Ceana smiled at him with flour still on her cheek.

Oscar wanted this noise to greet him whenever he entered his home. He also wanted the woman who had made it possible more than anything. Another night with her could put a child inside her, and he had sworn never to stake her life on that chance.

The thought tightened his chest. He flexed his flour-streaked fingers against his knee.

Ceana noticed the flour near his hairline. “Ye will need a bath, husband.”

Oscar looked at the flour on her cheek. “Aye.”

He could remove the flour. Keeping his hands off her afterward would require more effort. Far more effort.

Ceana retreated to their chamber after the children fell asleep, the taste of honey still on her tongue and Paisley’s laughter fresh in her ears. 

Tommy had declared himself fully healed after several bannocks. Paisley had repeated the tale of Oscar’s flour-covered face twice before allowing Ceana to draw the blankets over her shoulders.

Oscar had left the children’s rooms ahead of her. His bath had yet to be cleared away, the water rippling as it cooled, and the rough map of the eastern border covered the table beside it. Lennan’s report lay in one corner, while Oscar’s sword weighed down the other. A charcoal mark showed where the cattle had gone missing. Beyond the table, the bedcovers had been turned down.

He stood beside the bath with wet hair and a loose linen towel knotted low around his hips.

Ceana stopped in the doorway.

Oh.

Water slid down Oscar’s chest and followed the pale scar beneath his ribs. Ceana had traced that scar with one finger on their wedding night and felt his breath deepen beneath her touch. She knew the feel of his chest against hers and the hardness of his stomach beneath her palms. The low knot of the towel drew her gaze because she knew what it covered.

A mild soreness lingered between her thighs. It brought back the warm cloth Oscar had slid over her tender skin afterward and the care with which he had helped her into her nightgown.

His mouth curved when he caught her staring.

“Did ye manage to remove all the flour?” she asked.

“I believed I had until ye began inspectin’ me.”

Heat rose into her cheeks, though the humor in his voice kept her from turning away. “Tommy considers himself cured. Paisley stopped him from stealin’ a fourth bannock, and the cook believes the kitchen may recover.”

“Good. I couldnae write the conclusion better if I tried.”

Ceana glanced at the map. “Did Lennan’s scouts find anythin’?”

“Tracks near the eastern grazin’ ground. They will search again at first light.”

His voice was even, so she let the matter rest. When he shifted, the firelight revealed a pale streak near his hairline.

“Ye missed a spot.” She crossed to him and raised her hand.

Oscar caught her wrist before her fingers reached his temple. His grip was gentle, his thumb resting beneath her palm. Her fingertips touched the inside of his wrist, where his pulse beat faster than his calm expression let on.

The amusement vanished from his face. “Daenae look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like ye can feel every place I touched ye.”

Ceana stood close enough to smell clean linen and damp skin. “I do remember, though.”

“So do I.”

His gaze trailed down her body. It followed the shape of her breasts beneath her gown and slid lower to the thighs his hands had uncovered the night before. His jaw tightened as he forced his eyes back to her face.

“I am tryin’ to keep me distance,” he said. “Ye look at me as though ye want me closer, and it makes the effort considerably harder.”

Ceana looked past him at the mattress. “It is our bed.”

She moved half a step closer, her dress brushing his bare shin. His manhood thickened and tented the towel.

His fingers tightened around her wrist. “If I touch ye, ye ken where it will end.”

The sight of his arousal sent heat through her, stirring a pulse between her thighs. He wanted her, and his body had answered before she could doubt him.

“I cannae conceive,” she assured him.

“I heard ye. I understood everythin’ ye told me.”

“Then why are ye holdin’ back?”

“Because ye may be wrong.”

Ceana’s breath caught. “Ye accepted that risk on our weddin’ night.”

His eyes stayed on hers. “Aye, I accepted it. If I touch ye now, I will accept it again. I will take ye back to the bed and finish inside ye, and I willnae stake yer life on the hope that ye are right.”

Her inner walls clenched at the image he had given her. She remembered the feel of him spilling deep inside her. The pulse between her thighs grew until she had to resist pressing closer.

Oscar stood aroused within reach, fully aware of what another touch would lead to. He had denied himself the same thing he denied her. She could no longer mistake his distance for a lack of desire.

“How long do ye intend to keep yer distance?”

His grip loosened. He looked at the bed, then back at her. “I daenae ken.”

One night she could have borne, but his uncertainty included tomorrow and every night that followed.

“The part about livin’ separate lives has survived the weddin’, then.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. His fingers flexed once around her wrist, then relaxed again. Soon enough, he released her. The same hand rose to her cheek, and his thumb brushed over the spot that had been marked with flour earlier.

Ceana leaned into his touch. After everything he had admitted, she expected the contact to shatter his restraint. Instead, he bent and kissed her.

His mouth rested softly against hers, closed and careful. She answered at once. She parted her lips and pressed one hand against his damp chest, trying to absorb his heat. His fingers twitched against her face, and his lips opened beneath hers.

But then he lifted his head, his breath brushing across her mouth. His thumb slid once more along her cheek before his hand dropped away.

“Good night, Ceana.” He turned away.

He pulled on linen drawers and a shirt, while she stood beside the bath, her lips tingling. He placed Lennan’s report beneath his sword, then carried both to the stool beside the bed. He lay on the far edge of the mattress and faced the wall.

Ceana changed into her nightgown while he kept his face turned away. The linen brushed the tender place between her thighs as she climbed into bed beside him. A narrow strip of sheet separated them.

Oscar held himself so still that the tension showed in his shoulders. A few minutes passed, and still his breathing did not change.

Ceana did not answer. The marriage bed had given him something new to fear.

CHAPTER 16

Oscar cut the same slice of meat into smaller pieces.

The knife scraped across the pewter plate as he turned one square and divided it again. None had reached his mouth. The ale he had poured remained untouched beside his right hand, and his sword rested within reach on his left.

Lennan had not sent another report from the eastern border, and Ceana’s empty chair stood close enough for Oscar to touch its carved back without leaning.

He had come down to put stone walls and a flight of stairs between himself and their bed.

Their chamber had been dark when he dressed. Ceana lay beneath the blanket, one hand curled near her face. Oscar had fastened his belt by the dying fire and left before her eyes opened. Sleep had claimed him only in brief stretches. His body had remained painfully aware of the woman beside him.

It remained so even now.

He remembered Ceana rising into the soft kiss he had given her. Her lips had parted against his, and her fingers had tightened on his bare chest when she tried to draw him back.

He could return upstairs. He could cross their chamber, pull aside the bed curtains, and find her awake on the pillow.

In his mind, her mouth softened when she saw him, and without thinking twice, she reached for him. He then climbed over her and pushed her nightgown above her knees. Her legs opened around his hips, warm and inviting.

He remembered the broken sound she had made when he pushed into her on their wedding night, and he could feel his length harden with the knowledge that he could hear it again.

Suddenly, the image changed. Now, the white linen gathered at Ceana’s thighs darkened with blood, and a newborn cried against his chest. Blood spread beneath her and soaked through every cloth the midwife pressed between her legs. One limp hand hung beside the mattress, while he held a child he could not return to the woman who had borne it.

Nay. Nay, nay, nay, nay. 

A clump of dark hair covered the pillow now. Ceana’s mouth had turned blue, and her closed eyes did not move when he spoke her name.

The knife scraped against his plate. His fist tightened until the handle dug into his palm. His erection still pressed against his breeches even after the vision, while his stomach twisted hard enough to hurt.

He set down the knife carefully. “Nay, nae while I draw breath.”

The door hit the wall, jolting him out of his reverie. He immediately wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword before he recognized Paisley.

He rose and searched the passage behind her. No stranger followed. His daughter stood alone in a gown pulled hastily over her shift, one hand holding the loose front closed. Her hair hung around her wet face.

“What? What is it? Are ye hurt?” 

“I need Ceana.” Her voice broke on the name.

Oscar stepped around the table and checked her face for bruises. “Did someone enter yer chamber?”

Paisley shook her head, more tears running down her cheeks.

“Did someone frighten ye?”

“Ye daenae ken anythin’. I need her, nae ye.”

“I have been yer faither for years before Ceana came here.” He lowered his voice. “Tell me what is goin’ on.”

Her grip tightened on her gown. “I will only tell Ceana.”

When he opened his mouth again, Paisley hunched her shoulders and clutched the gown tighter. He swallowed the next question and crouched until their eyes were level, keeping his hands where she could see them.

“Then I will get her for ye.”

He straightened, ready to call for a servant, when his wife appeared in the doorway. She had dressed quickly, and several strands had escaped her loose braid and rested against her neck, recalling the dark hair spread over her pillow when he left.

Ceana looked first at Paisley. Then her gaze shifted to Oscar before flitting away. He wanted to cross the hall and cup her cheek in his hand. He drew in a breath to speak, then stopped. To explain, he would have to tell her about the blood and the dead woman whose face had become hers.

Paisley ran to her at that moment, interrupting his train of thought. Ceana gathered the girl against her chest and held her until the first hard sob passed. She cupped Paisley’s face, then examined her hands and wrists.

“What happened?” she asked.

Oscar huffed. “Daenae ask me. I ken nothin’. She wouldnae tell me.”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

Paisley whispered against Ceana’s shoulder. Ceana glanced down at the gown clutched around her, then brushed the loose hair from her damp cheek.

“I think I ken what ails ye. Come with me.”

Paisley caught Ceana’s hand in both of hers. At that moment, Mairi and two servants stepped into the passage to investigate. 

Ceana turned toward Mairi. “Warm water and clean linen, please.”

“At once, me Lady.” Mairi’s calm answer eased Paisley’s grip.

“Take everythin’ Lady MacKane requires to Paisley’s chamber,” Oscar said to the other servants. “The upper passage is to remain clear until she says otherwise.”

They withdrew without argument. Mairi briefly met Oscar’s gaze, then went to fetch the linen and warm water.

Oscar cleared the way as Ceana led Paisley toward the stairs.

“I can send for the healer,” he offered.

Ceana paused with one hand on Paisley’s back. “I will send for her if she is needed.”

Oscar nodded gently and followed at a distance. Near the upper landing, a maid approached with a coal scuttle. One look from him sent her back the way she had come.

Mairi soon arrived with a basin and folded linen. She followed Ceana and Paisley into the chamber, while Oscar stopped beside the window across from his daughter’s door.

He did not knock. Something told him he wasn’t supposed to. 

Ceana closed the door and lowered the latch.

Paisley went to the bed, still gripping the front of her gown. A dark stain marked the sheet, and another marked the back of her gown. Her face had gone pale beneath the tears.

Ceana approached her slowly. “Tell me where the blood came from, lass. Are ye hurt anywhere besides yer belly or yer back?”

“Me belly aches.” Paisley glanced at the bed, then pulled her gown closer. “I woke up and thought I had wet meself. Then I saw it.” Her mouth trembled. “Am I dyin’?”

“Ye are safe. I only need to see enough to be certain. May I look at the stain on yer shift?”

Paisley turned reluctantly. Ceana checked the blood on the linen without lifting the garment, then guided her to sit on the bed.

“Ye’re havin’ yer first courses.”

Paisley wiped her cheek. “I have heard Mairi speak of courses. She never said there would be so much blood.”

Ceana nodded. “Well, most girls begin to bleed as their bodies grow. It’s just that blood looks worse on white linen.”

Fear flashed in Paisley’s wide eyes. “Does it mean I am a woman now? Because I daenae want to be a woman yet.”

Ceana sat beside her. “Ye are still twelve. Ye still have lessons, games, and years before anyone would call ye grown. Yer first courses willnae change that.”

Paisley looked down at her bare feet. “Will it stop?”

“It should stop after a few days. The first courses may be irregular, so ye must tell me if anythin’ frightens ye.”

A quiet knock sounded at the door. Ceana rose and lifted the latch.

Mairi stood outside with warm water and folded linen. Oscar waited near the window across from the door, holding himself as Ceana would imagine he did before an armed threat. It was the same way he had held himself in the tent where they had first met.

Their gazes met. She remembered waking alone, the sheet cold where he should have been. He had withdrawn before dawn. At least he kept watch within calling distance.

Ceana stepped aside to let Mairi in and then closed the door.

Mairi placed the water near the fireplace, drew the curtains partway around the bed, and folded the stained sheet inward.

“I shall see to this meself,” she said. “If I require help, I ken who I can call. Daenae worry.” 

“Will Tommy ken?” Paisley asked.

“Nay one will tell him.” Mairi wrapped the sheet into a compact bundle. “I shall put clean linen in the bottom of yer chest. If ye’re embarrassed, I promise that only Lady MacKane and I will touch it.”

She handed Ceana the clean linen and looked at Paisley as calmly as she would have probably looked at a torn hem before carrying the stained bundle away.

Ceana sat beside the basin and opened the clean linen across her lap. She folded a strip into several layers and showed Paisley how to place it where it would catch the blood.

“Change it when it grows damp or begins to trouble ye. Ye can also wrap the used cloths in linen for washing and keep a clean one nearby.”

Paisley touched the folded edge. “Must ye help me put it on?”

“Only if ye wish it. Ye may wash and change in private. I can wait beyond the curtain, or stay here with me back turned.”

“Stay.”

Ceana turned toward the fireplace as Paisley carried the basin behind the bed curtains. The girl let out a small hiss, and Ceana resisted the urge to go to her.

“Is the ache worse?” she asked.

“A little.”

Ceana nodded, her mind briefly flashing to her first period when she had been thirteen years old. Daphne had gotten hers earlier, and Ceana remembered listening to their mother advise her on steps to take. 

She couldn’t imagine what the poor girl would have done if she wasn’t here. Relying solely on Oscar sounded like a nightmare. 

“Warmth against yer lower belly may ease that ache ye feel,” she advised, straining her ears. “Also, rest if ye need to. If the pain grows severe or the blood frightens ye again, ye come to Mairi or me at once.”

Paisley emerged in a clean shift, holding the empty basin. Ceana took it and set it aside. The girl’s attention returned to the new folded sheet on the bed.

“If a maid had found it, she might have told everyone.” Her voice dropped. “Tommy would have heard. What if someone laughs?”

“Mairi will have it washed without naming its owner. If anyone mocks ye, I will deal with them in person.”

Paisley nodded, looking around the room. “Will it happen again on the sheets?”

“It may. Monthly courses can begin during sleep or before ye have a cloth ready.” Ceana placed the remaining linen in her hands. “If a sheet is stained, we wash it. Ye neednae hide from me or Mairi.”

Paisley looked back at the bed. “Could I sleep on another folded cloth until it stops? And keep a spare sheet in the chest?”

“Aye. We shall arrange both.”

Ceana opened the chest. Paisley passed over a pale green gown and chose one of dark blue wool.

“That one, please.”

Ceana helped secure the back ties and made no comment on the color.

Paisley smoothed both hands over the dark skirt. “Will me courses come every month?”

“They usually return almost every month.” Ceana refolded a clean cloth whose edges had slipped out of place. “Mine have never been regular. Sometimes they come late. Sometimes they daenae come for months.”

Paisley turned away from the small mirror. “Does that mean somethin’ is wrong with ye?”

The linen creased beneath Ceana’s fingers. She released it and flattened the fold against her knee. “Irregular courses daenae make a woman broken.”

Saying it to Paisley required no effort. However, she had never managed to look at herself in a mirror and give herself the same reassurance.

“So mine might be irregular too?”

“They may take time to become regular. Anyway, ye mustnae lie alone and frighten yerself.”

Paisley touched the ties at her waist. At this point, her hands had stopped trembling.

“Would ye rather rest here or go back downstairs?” Ceana asked.

“I daenae want everyone thinkin’ I am ill.”

“Then we shall go down. Yer faither kept the passage clear. If ye wish to return here later, ye need only tell me.”

Paisley’s face softened. “I am glad ye are here.”

Ceana’s hand stopped on the folded linen. Paisley had run through the castle calling for her. The girl had chosen her. Something about that tugged at her heart.

She set down the linen, drew Paisley into her arms, and kissed her forehead. “So am I, lass.”

The passage remained empty when Ceana opened the door. They found Oscar at the foot of the stairs, facing the landing as if he had heard them come out.

His gaze went directly to his daughter. He took in her clean gown and steadier face, then glanced at Ceana and waited.

“She will be well,” she assured him.

Oscar gave a slow nod. Thankfully, he did not press the issue. Something seemed to tell him now wasn’t the time.

He moved aside to let them pass. As Ceana descended towards him, his hand lifted to the small of her back. His palm came within inches of her gown before his fingers curled and his arm fell.

Her body remembered the press of his hand against her bare skin, and her back tingled with every step.

In the breakfast hall, her place had not been touched, though a fresh cup of tea sat ready beside her plate. The food on Oscar’s plate looked barely touched. He pulled out Paisley’s chair, and Ceana took her seat without mentioning the bed he had left.

Tommy hurried in with Ness tugging at the lead. He stopped when he saw Paisley’s red-rimmed eyes, looked over her face, and asked no question.

“Will ye play hide and seek?” he asked. “The whole castle is better when there are more hunters.”

Paisley glanced at Ceana.

“It is all right,” Ceana allowed. “Ye can play.”

“I want to play.” Paisley rose from her chair.

Tommy thrust the goat’s lead into her hand. “Ye shall captain our side. Ye ken the hidin’ places better than I do.”

“Our side?” Oscar echoed.

“Adults against children,” Tommy declared. “Ness is with us.”

Ceana looked at the goat, who had begun nosing the hem of Paisley’s gown. “What qualifies Ness as a child?”

“She is young and she is smaller than Da.”

“Well, by that standard, most of Scotland belongs to yer team,” Ceana said.

Paisley laughed, then caught Tommy’s hand. “Come. We seek first.”

The children raced into the passage, with Ness’s hooves striking the floor behind them.

Ceana met Oscar’s gaze across the table. “It seems ye are stuck with me, husband.”

His eyes lowered to her mouth. “Aye, it seems so.” 

Ceana swallowed, staring back at him. 

Great.

CHAPTER 17

She gathered her dress and hurried up the worn steps while Tommy counted below.

“One, two, three, four… six…”

“Ye missed five,” Paisley called.

“Do ye want to go ahead or nae? I said it quietly.”

“Ye didnae say it at all. Begin again and keep yer eyes closed.”

Ness’s hooves clattered across the floor beneath them. Something wooden scraped, followed by Tommy’s protest and Paisley’s firmer command.

“Tommy, keep yer eyes closed. Ness, leave the hangin’ be.”

Paisley sounded more like herself. That alone made the game worth squeezing into some ill-made corner of the castle.

Ceana slowed down in the upper passage, where an arrow slit threw a thin strip of daylight across the floor. Beyond it, the uneven wall bent around an older part of the castle, and a fading hunting tapestry curled away from the plaster. She had yet to learn where every door led, and frankly, it would have to come much later. 

Oscar had vanished before she reached the stairs, which suited her. Being on his team gave him no claim to her company. He had claimed the far edge of their bed, and by the time she woke, he had gone, and he kept his distance throughout the morning.

She pressed her lips together, remembering the careful kiss he had ended. 

Nay. Now isnae the time.

Ceana considered the linen press near the gallery, which Tommy would open first. The curtained bed in the empty chamber ahead was equally obvious. She continued toward the shadowed turn as the renewed count reached seven.

At ten, an arm caught her around the waist.

What t⁠—

The cry lodged in her throat as she was pulled sideways. Her shoulder bumped into the stone behind the hanging, and her hands struck a solid chest. His breadth and familiar scent told her who held her before his mouth reached her ear.

“Hush. It is only me.” Oscar lifted one finger between them, urging her to stay silent. 

His other arm stayed firm around her waist as he guided her further into the recess. Her back met the inner wall. He stood directly before her, their bodies touching whenever either drew a full breath. Her palms remained on his chest, and his thigh wedged between her knees. The hanging screened the entrance at his back.

“Where in God’s name is this place?” she whispered, looking around. 

Oscar sighed, looking around as well. “It used to be a watch recess. Men could observe the stairs from here without standin’ in the passage.”

“And how did ye discover it?”

“I hid here from lessons when I was a wee lad.” 

“Really.”

“Aye. Me faither’s man-at-arms searched the castle for an hour once.”

Ceana shook her head. “Ye never struck me as someone who learned early where to vanish.”

Before he could answer, quick footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Oscar tightened his arm until they were completely clear of the passageway. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, and his mouth hovered near her temple, each breath stirring the fine hair beside her ear.

“They cannae be allowed to disappear inside their own castle,” Tommy complained from the passage.

“Ye love to play pranks,” Paisley replied. “Ye should ken all the hidin’ places in here by now.”

Ceana’s grip on Oscar’s shirt slackened at the confidence in Paisley’s voice.

Oscar listened with his head turned toward the entrance, the hard line of his mouth softening.

“Ness has the best nose,” Tommy said. “Let her lead.”

Soon, the sound of small hooves approached. The hanging shifted near Oscar’s boot, and a pale muzzle poked through the gap.

Ceana bit the inside of her cheek as Ness nudged harder.

Good God.

“Relax,” Oscar whispered.

Ceana didn’t respond. Instead, she watched as he angled his boot across the opening, and the goat nosed his buckle with persistent snorts. Laughter bubbled up her throat. His arm pressed more firmly into her waist as she shook against him, forcing her to turn her mouth to his shoulder.

“Keep quiet!” he hissed, but she might as well not have heard him from how hard she was laughing. 

“Ness,” Paisley called. “Leave the hangin’. Tommy, she has found nothin’.”

The muzzle vanished. Tommy coaxed the goat onward, and their steps receded as Paisley directed him toward the gallery.

Oscar kept Ceana close until the last hoofbeat faded.

“We may breathe again,” she whispered.

“Quietly.”

His hand remained on her waist, its heat spreading through the wool of her gown. With stone behind her and Oscar before her, she could step nowhere until he moved.

She listened once more for the children. “It matters that Paisley plays today.”

Oscar’s attention sharpened. “Why?”

“She needs to be the same lass who came down for breakfast. The game gives her somethin’ ordinary to command after she woke up frightened by a change she didnae understand.”

His thumb shifted once against her side. “What happened to me daughter that I still cannae understand?” 

The reminder of Paisley’s dismissal almost drew another smile from Ceana. She looked toward the hanging. Paisley had trusted only her and Mairi with this.

Oscar waited, concern tightening the corners of his eyes.

“Her first courses came,” Ceana admitted.

Oscar went still. His gaze moved toward the passage Paisley had taken. “She is a bairn.”

“Aye. She was twelve when she woke, and she remains twelve now.”

Oscar swallowed, and the pressure of his fingers eased. “Was she frightened?”

“She thought she had been hurt. The blood frightened her, and she feared the household would discover it.”

His jaw tightened. “Does she ken what to do now?”

“Aye. We took care of her, I promise.”

He lowered his eyes. The corner of his mouth tightened, and his fingers curled into the fabric at her waist.

“Thank ye,” he said. “For carin’ for her.”

“Mairi or any other maid would have ken what to do.”

“Well, she didnae ask for Mairi this mornin’ now, did she?” He looked at her again, his gaze steady. “She asked for ye. I am glad ye were there.”

His grip relaxed, and his thumb moved once over her waist, drawing her closer before she caught herself.

Paisley had chosen her, and Oscar had mentioned that expressly. Ceana wanted to rest against him and accept the place he offered her in his family. 

Then she remembered the cold sheet beside her when she woke. He could thank her here, concealed in a wall with his body pressed against hers. The empty bed kept her spine against the stone.

Her gaze moved toward the hanging, then returned to his face.

“Ye have been hidin’ a long while, then,” she whispered.

Oscar’s thumb stopped against her waist.

“It seems ye began this game before Tommy thought of it. Before he was even born.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. His chest rose with one slow breath, and the arm around her waist became rigid.

“Daenae provoke me here.”

“Here?” she asked softly.

He glanced toward the hanging before returning his attention to her. “Daenae provoke me while there is nowhere to put distance between us.”

Ceana curled her fingers into the front of his shirt. The hanging at his back covered the only way out, and he would expose them both if he pushed through it. The inner wall stood flat against her spine, and his body filled every inch between her and escape.

“Ye found ample distance before dawn.” She kept her voice low enough to remain within the recess. “I woke up beside a cold, empty space, husband. Ye had already won yer round.”

His fingers flexed against her waist. “I left because stayin’ had become impossible.”

“Did ye fear wakin’ me?” Ceana looked right into his eyes. “Or did ye fear what ye wanted to do once I woke?”

His breath brushed her cheek. His thigh was still wedged between hers. He had made no effort to move it, and she refused to step away from the pressure.

“Ye daenae understand what leavin’ required.”

Ceana cocked her head. “Ye have given me nay chance to understand.”

The passage beyond the hanging remained quiet. Oscar listened for the children, then drew Ceana closer until his coat buttons pressed into her bodice.

“I have faced battlefields that demanded less resolve than it took to leave ye in that bed.”

Ceana’s breath caught. The wool of his coat bunched tighter in her fist, and his hard length pressed against her lower belly. He had lain within reach throughout the night. He had wanted to wake her and had forced himself out of their chamber before she could see the effort. Another morning would come, and he still made no promise about where she would find him.

“Why are ye determined to deny us both?” she asked.

He looked at her mouth. “Ye ken why.”

“Ye ken what I told ye. There is nay bairn to fear.”

“And I cannae believe ye truly believe that.” He spoke with the same hard certainty he had beside the bath. 

Ceana refused to give him the old argument again. She released his coat and caught the hand on her waist, sliding it down the curve of her hip. “Yer doubt hasnae stopped ye from wantin’ me.”

Oscar watched their joined hands. Ceana guided his palm lower until it rested against the heavy folds over her upper thigh, then shifted her feet to widen her stance.

“Are ye afraid to touch me now?”

His gaze lifted to hers as he turned his wrist within her grasp and took control of the movement. His hand trailed over her dress, pressing through gathered wool and linen until it curled between her thighs. His other arm locked around her waist and held her against him.

Ceana drew in a sharp breath. The firm pressure carried through every layer, intimate enough to stir a tight pulse in her core. Oscar kept his hand still while he watched her face. She caught his wrist again and pressed closer.

“Daenae be ridiculous, wife,” he whispered. “I can touch ye whenever I want.” His fingers tightened. “Whenever ye need me to.” His thumb slackened against the dress and waited for her answer.

Ceana remembered lying awake while he held himself rigid at the edge of the mattress. She then tightened her grip on his wrist and pushed his palm more firmly against her.

“Then prove it.”

She caught the front of his coat again and pulled him down as she rose to meet him.

Their lips met with enough force to knock her head toward the stone. Oscar’s free hand rose to the nape of her neck and curled around it, his fingers sliding into her hair while he angled her head. Ceana caught his lower lip between hers. When she opened her mouth, his tongue delved in, and the breath she had meant to hold escaped against his cheek.

The hanging stirred inches from his back, and the risk of the children returning forced her to swallow each moan.

She gripped his shoulder and slid her other hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. Oscar stroked her tongue once, then nipped her lower lip and pulled her closer. She ground into the palm between her thighs, her knees opening wider.

His hips shifted, and his hard length pressed more firmly against her belly. It brought back the weight of him between her legs on their wedding night and the strained sound he had made when he entered her.

She kissed him harder, and he sucked her lower lip into his mouth. His fingers tightened on her dress and trailed upward, gentle even as his breathing broke across her face. She moved against his hand, accepting the relief he gave through the thick fabric and asking for more with the rock of her hips.

“Ceana,” he rasped against her mouth.

She answered by pulling him back in before he could retreat. His hand closed more firmly around her nape, and his mouth crashed onto hers again. The stone scraped her shoulder as he crowded closer. She welcomed his weight, holding him against her while his thumb moved once through the folds between her thighs.

His head lifted suddenly, and she followed his gaze to the hanging, her lips still parted. A moment later, footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“We searched the gallery twice,” Tommy said.

“Then we search near the stairs again,” Paisley replied. “They cannae have left this floor.”

Oscar removed his hand from between Ceana’s thighs and placed it on her waist. His body stayed between her and the entrance.

“Remain still,” he whispered.

Her fingers were still tangled in his hair. She released him and smoothed the front of her dress, trying to ignore the throb between her legs. His collar had creased in her fist, so she straightened it and flattened one lapel over his chest.

His gaze dropped to her swollen lips. “They are movin’ away.”

Ness’s hooves scraped near the stairs. Tommy tried to coax her toward the gallery, and Paisley laughed when the goat resisted.

“One last spot,” Paisley said. “Then we concede.”

Ceana had wanted to hear that laugh when she agreed to the game. If she revealed their hiding place, Paisley could finish the game with a clean victory.

She met Oscar’s eyes. “The bairns should win.”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed. “Ceana…”

Before he could say anything else, she coughed, and the sound carried through the hanging.

There was a pause.

“I heard someone,” Paisley noted.

The sound of boots rushed toward them. Oscar’s hand tightened once on Ceana’s waist before he stepped back as far as the recess permitted. The hanging was swept aside, and Paisley appeared with Tommy close behind her.

“I found them!” she cried.

“We found them,” Tommy corrected. Ness thrust her head between the children and nosed Oscar’s boot. “Ness showed us this place before.”

Ceana stepped out into the passage and offered Paisley her hand with due ceremony. “The victory is yers, captain.”

Paisley took it, smiling as she lifted her chin.

Oscar emerged behind Ceana and adjusted one cuff. He kept his attention on Tommy while his hand settled briefly against Ceana’s back. Her lips were still tingling, and each step recalled the feel of his palm between her thighs.

“Another round,” Tommy demanded. “This hidin’ place is forbidden. Da has an unfair advantage because he kens the holes inside the walls.”

“The adults must seek now,” Paisley suggested. “They can count by the old stairs while we hide.”

“Aye,” Ceana agreed. Paisley’s color had returned, her attention already fixed on possible hiding places. “Choose where we should count.”

Before anyone else could speak, another set of footsteps sounded from the opposite end of the passage.

Lennan rounded the corner at a pace too swift for a casual walk. A line of road dust marked his boots, and one hand remained closed at his side. Tommy’s next protest died as Oscar looked past him.

Lennan’s gaze moved once between them before landing on the stone beyond Ceana’s shoulder. The look on his face made Oscar drop his hand to his side.

“A word, me Laird.”

CHAPTER 18

Oscar studied Lennan before answering. His man-at-arms held himself rigid, with one hand clenched at his side and his breathing carefully level. 

Whatever had brought him to the upper passage was critical.

Oscar could still feel the ghost of Ceana’s kiss on his lips. He closed the hand that had held her, opened it again, then straightened the front of his coat. A deliberate step put space between them. Paisley and Tommy watched him, their excitement fading with each passing second. 

“The next round must wait,” he said. “Paisley, take Tommy downstairs.”

Tommy glanced at Lennan. “Has somethin’ happened?”

“I will tell ye what ye need to ken once I have spoken with Lennan. Go with yer sister.”

Paisley took Tommy’s hand. Oscar waited until both children turned toward the stairs before looking at Ceana.

“Stay with them.”

Her lips were swollen from their kiss, and one loosened strand of hair hung against her flushed cheek. She studied him with the same sharp attention that had stripped through every excuse he offered in the recess, and he turned away before she could answer.

Lennan matched his pace down the nearest stairs. “A rider came from Morrag.”

Oscar’s blood ran cold. “Who?”

“Fergus. One of David’s men.”

Oscar was already three steps ahead. “Where is he?”

“The guardroom beside the inner hall.”

Fergus sat on a bench with road mud dried on his thighs and smoke caught in his plaid. A shallow cut marked his temple, and blood had run into his hair and dried there. The cup beside him remained untouched. He attempted to rise when Oscar approached.

“Stay seated,” Oscar urged. “Give me what ye brought.”

Fergus reached inside his coat and produced a folded note. Only after Oscar had taken it did the man grab the cup.

The wax bore Laird Morrag’s seal, familiar from the letters they had exchanged before the wedding. Heat had softened one edge, and a smear of blood crossed the fold. The seal itself remained clear.

Oscar broke it and read the letter.

MacKane,

Bryce crossed the eastern burn at first light beneath Gilmore colors. Two steadings burn, and his men hold the north road. His sealed demand names Daphne and calls Ceana’s marriage a second theft. We hold Morrag Castle for now, but we cannot do it on our own for long. Bring what strength you can.

Laird Morrag.

The final sentence had been pressed more deeply into the page. David’s signature beneath it remained firm.

Oscar read the note again. David had written it, which meant he had lived long enough to seal it. For all he knew, Ceana’s parents were still alive. If that had changed while Fergus rode, Oscar would have to face Ceana and tell her.

“When did ye leave Morrag?” he asked.

“Yesterday mornin’, me Laird. I changed horses once. The second beast carried me through the night, though she cannae ride again today.”

“How many Gilmore men did ye see?”

“Several scores crossed first. There were more behind them. I saw dust on the eastern road after the first ranks passed.”

Oscar folded the note along its original crease. “They seized the north road?”

“Aye. Men were posted there before I left.”

“The western approach?”

“It remained open then. I cannae swear to it now.”

“Were the gates holdin’?”

Fergus gripped the cup with both hands. “Laird Morrag called the outer tenants inside and barred the gates. Gilmore’s men hadnae reached the walls when he sent me.”

Oscar took a deep breath before asking his next question. “And his wife? How is she?” 

“She was inside the castle, seein’ to the wounded.”

Oscar looked at the dried blood on Fergus’s temple. “Did ye see Angus MacWatt?”

“Nay, me Laird. I cannae say where he was.”

His absence proved nothing. Oscar filed it away for later.

Fergus drew another folded sheet from beneath his coat. Soot darkened one corner, and Bryce’s seal remained unbroken on the fastening.

“They brought this beneath a white cloth,” he explained. “Laird Morrag bade me to carry it with his note.”

Oscar took the sheet and passed David’s letter to Lennan.

“Send two mounted scouts,” he ordered. “One takes the direct road and the other checks the western approach.”

“Aye, me Laird,” Lennan responded, his voice firm. 

“They are only to observe and return,” Oscar added. “Nobody must engage.”

Lennan was moving toward the door before Oscar finished. “Aye, me Laird.”

Oscar exhaled. This may be something he could handle, but now wasn’t the time to leave anything to chance. It was time to have all his bases covered.

“If Gilmore’s men cross onto MacKane land, bring the nearby tenants inside and bar the gates,” he instructed, just as the door opened to reveal Ceana.

His lips parted, but no words came.

Ceana’s eyes immediately went to the man on the bench. “Fergus?”

Her gaze moved over his smoke-stained plaid and paused on the blood at his temple. Fergus set his cup aside and made another attempt to rise.

“Me Lady, ye neednae fear for me. It is only a cut.”

Ceana scarcely looked at the wound. Her fingers closed around the doorframe as she faced Oscar. “What has happened?”

Fergus looked at Oscar, who gave him a nod.

“Laird Gilmore has attacked Morrag.”

Oscar watched as the color drained from Ceana’s face. Her grip tightened until her knuckles turned white.

“Me parents?”

“They were alive when Fergus left. The castle still held.”

“Give me the letter.”

Lennan handed it to her.

Oscar could see the look of recognition land on her face before she unfolded the page. He then watched as her eyes moved quickly across the lines, then he turned to Lennan. 

“Prepare a horse for Fergus once he has eaten and rested. I may need to send a message after the scouts return.”

Ceana folded the note and reached for the cloak hanging beside the door. “Have me mare saddled,” she instructed.

Oscar turned back to her. “Ceana…”

She pulled the cloak around her shoulders. “I am comin’ with ye.”

Oscar regarded her for a moment. His hand still remembered the shape of her through her dress. Soon, that same hand would hold a sword, and when that happened, the last thing he wanted was for her to be anywhere nearby. 

“Nay,” he said. “Ye stay here.”

“Someone has attacked me family,” she huffed. 

Beyond the guardroom, boots struck the flagstones as men hurried through the inner hall under Lennan’s orders.

Oscar put himself between her and the doorway. “That is exactly why ye must remain here.”

“Well, me faither’s letter asked ye to bring what strength ye can. I am a strength.” 

“Bryce demanded Daphne,” Oscar reminded her, keeping his voice low as two men passed close enough to hear. “Ye wear her face. He could seize ye before he comes near enough to see the difference. Once he learns which sister he holds, he gains a weapon against David and against me. Our marriage has given him cause to strike at ye.”

Her hand tightened on the edge of her cloak. A barred chamber in the inner keep would hold her until the fighting ended. Let her curse him from behind the door. At least she would be alive to do it.

“I am nae askin’ to stand in the battle line,” Ceana said. “The north road is the route every stranger takes, and Bryce holds it. There is a track west of the river that reaches the lower postern. A man comin’ from the main road will miss the proper fork, and the ground turns soft beyond the birches.”

Oscar knew Morrag’s position on a map, but a map could not show him the turn hidden behind a rise or the patch of earth that would swallow a horse’s leg.

“Me faither will have placed defenders above the north approach,” she continued. “Me maither will gather the wounded near the old brew house. I ken me faither’s men, and I ken which entrances Bryce may overlook. I can guide ye there. I can help once the ground is secured.”

“Ye can help by stayin’ alive.”

“I willnae sit safely inside MacKane Castle while me clan bleeds over a marriage supposed to protect it!”

Oscar braced one hand on the table. The edge pressed into his palm as he stepped into her path.

“Lady MacKane, ye will go to yer chamber. Now.”

Ceana looked past him. “Lennan, how quickly can me horse be saddled?”

Lennan met his gaze before answering her. “She kens the western ground better than any man we can take from here, me Laird.”

“The track was open when I escaped,” Fergus said from the bench. He tried to straighten and caught the side of the table when the movement made him sway. “I can mark where it begins. I couldnae guide riders over it at their pace today.”

“She may save us hours at the wrong approach,” Lennan added.

Oscar looked at Ceana. Confinement would delay her only until his men left the gates. She would find another horse and follow with whatever guard remained close enough to stop her. 

Why do ye have to be so stubborn?

He was still debating what to do when the sound of small footsteps rose in the hall. Paisley stood beside Tommy at the threshold, with Mairi close behind them.

Tommy stared at the sword belt of the first man who hurried past. “Are the bad men comin’ to MacKane?” he asked.

“The attack is at Morrag,” Oscar explained. “Captain Brodie and enough armed men will remain here. Ye will stay inside the inner ward with Paisley and Mairi.”

Paisley looked at Ceana. “Are yer maither and faither in danger?”

“Morrag is under attack,” Ceana said. She went to them and bent until her face was level enough with theirs. “They were alive when Fergus left, and the castle was holdin’ up.”

Tommy caught the front of her dress. “Are ye comin’ back?”

Oscar released the table. His son had begun to expect Ceana at breakfast. If she did not return, he would have to answer that question again.

“I mean to come back,” Ceana assured. “Until I do, ye will heed Mairi and stay with Paisley.”

Tommy released her dress and turned to face Oscar. “Make the bad men leave her family alone.”

“I will defend Morrag,” Oscar promised.

Paisley drew an embroidered ribbon from her sleeve. She approached Ceana and tied it around the silver pin that would secure her cloak. “Send word when ye reach them.”

“I will,” Ceana said.

Mairi had already fastened her keys at her waist. “The lower chamber is bein’ cleared for any families brought inside. I have sent linen to the surgery.”

“The castle is in yer charge until I return,” Oscar instructed. “Keep the children in the inner ward and prepare for those who may need shelter. Captain Brodie commands the walls. Give him whatever the household can supply.”

Mairi nodded her head. “Aye, me Laird.”

Paisley took Tommy’s hand as Mairi led them away. Tommy looked back once before disappearing around the corner.

Oscar waited until their steps receded before facing Ceana. “Ye ride within me reach. Once steel is drawn, ye obey every field order I give. Ye stay away from the fightin’, and ye daenae leave the guard I place upon ye.”

“I agree.”

“And ye willnae take any risks.”

Ceana held his gaze. “I willnae seek danger. I cannae swear I will watch me family die to avoid it. Once the ground is secured, I will help me parents, the wounded, or anyone trapped inside the castle.”

Oscar’s mouth tightened. He would make the same choice if Paisley or Tommy were in danger.

“Ye take a guard whenever ye move.”

“Aye.”

Lennan witnessed the terms with a grave face.

“Have her mare saddled,” Oscar ordered.

The courtyard was crowded by the time they crossed it. The men buckled sword belts, while grooms led saddled horses out of the stables. Oscar chose a sure-footed bay mare that answered to the reins and brought Ceana to her.

Ceana ran one hand down the mare’s foreleg, then checked the bridle and girth. Oscar tested the girth after her and found it secure. She watched him without comment.

He shortened one stirrup by a hole and measured it against her leg. His hand closed around her ankle only long enough to judge the length. Something about the action made him remember the way he had fisted the folds of her dress and the way she had pressed into his hand earlier.

Eventually, he released her and reached for the short knife Lennan offered him. “Can ye draw this quickly and use it?”

“Me faither taught both his daughters enough to escape a man’s hold.”

He fastened the sheathed blade to her hip. Ceana swept her cloak over it, found the hilt, and drew it several inches without catching the fabric. Oscar shifted the sheath up. His knuckles brushed the curve of her waist, and he paused for a brief second. Ceana looked down at his fingers, then raised her eyes to his.

He secured the buckle and reached for her cloak; Paisley’s ribbon was wrapped around the pin at her shoulder. As he fastened it, his knuckles brushed the bare skin above her collar. He could feel her pulse flutter beneath his forefinger.

Ceana remained still anyway. 

“At me side until I order otherwise,” he murmured.

“Then keep pace, husband.”

Lennan approached, carrying Bryce’s folded demand. Oscar examined the wax before breaking it. The seal was Bryce’s, and the demand beneath it bore his name alone. Angus had left no mark on the page.

He refolded the sheet and tucked it inside his coat.

“The scouts have gone,” Lennan announced. “The men are ready.”

Oscar took Ceana by the waist and lifted her into the saddle. His hand lingered on her until she found her balance. He then mounted his own horse and placed her beside him within the center of the first formation. Two trusted guards closed in behind her, while Lennan took the other side.

He could see Mairi and the children watching from the inner steps, Paisley holding Tommy’s hand. He gave them a quick nod.

The gates opened, and they turned onto the road to Morrag. Ceana brought her mare level with his and held his gaze.

But too soon, Oscar looked away and dropped his hand. “Ride!”

CHAPTER 19

Ceana dragged herself upright in the saddle and fixed her gaze on the rise ahead.

A dull pain throbbed on the inside of her thighs. Her palms felt raw beneath her gloves, and her eyes stung after two nights of fitful sleep.

Bryce’s men held the north road, forcing them along the slower western route. Oscar had insisted on watering the horses and replacing the hardest-ridden mounts where fresh ones could be found. Her mare remained steady beneath her, even as her own body threatened to fold.

A line of blackthorn appeared along the slope. Beyond it stood a weathered stone she had passed hundreds of times while riding from Morrag. She touched Paisley’s embroidered ribbon and searched the higher ground for Morrag banners.

An overturned cart blocked half the track. The blue-painted boards belonged to a woman who brought sacks of barley to the castle kitchens every autumn. One wheel had split, and scattered grains lay deep in the mud beneath hoofprints. Further ahead, a cow stood beside a broken fence with blood darkening one flank. The nearest door hung from a single hinge.

Oscar raised one hand, and the men slowed down at once. The riders separated across the slope while the bowmen moved toward cover. Ceana guided her mare to the rise beside him, bracing herself as Morrag Castle came into view below.

A cluster of arrows covered the timbers of the north gate. The outer livestock fence had been trampled into the earth, and smoke rose from a burning pyre on the eastern side. Gilmore men crowded the main approach beneath Bryce’s banners.

Along the western wall, Morrag men fought in the narrow lane leading to the lower-side door. Their line had been forced close to the orchard, where little gaps in the old stone wall exposed the slope behind them.

Above it all, Morrag’s banners remained fixed on the battlements. Ceana gasped lightly when she saw them. Her family could be alive. 

A horse screamed near the northern gate while steel struck steel within the western lane, followed by a hoarse command from somewhere near the opposite end. 

She knew that voice. Bryce had shouted at her father across the wedding hall with the same raw authority. She could not forget how she felt when she first heard it.

Hearing about the war was one thing, but seeing it firsthand was entirely another, and it did not sit well with her. She could understand at that moment why Oscar had wanted her to stay at MacKane Castle. 

Movement sounded among the shrubs below the ridge as two MacKane scouts rode forward, then dismounted beside a man struggling uphill with one arm cradled against his chest.

“Niall,” Ceana gasped.

She urged her mare down before Oscar caught her reins and kept her at his side.

Niall reached them with blood soaking the sleeve of his tunic. A strip of green cloth had been tied around his brow, and Ceana recognized it as one of the scarves her mother kept for the guards during winter watches.

“Lady MacKane.” Niall bowed his head, breathing hard.

The title tightened her fingers around the reins. She had been taken as Laird Morrag’s daughter. Now she was seen only as Oscar’s wife.

“Does the castle hold?” Oscar asked.

“Aye, me Laird. We still have the walls.” Niall glanced toward the western lane. “I came through the lower path before Bryce’s men pressed closer.” 

“Me faither?” Ceana prompted. “Me maither?”

“I didnae see them before I left, me Lady. I cannae tell ye more.”

She swallowed and looked toward the path he had come from. “Have ye seen Angus?”

“Nay, Bryce gives the orders. His standard has moved west with the reserve.”

Oscar released Ceana’s reins and studied the slope. The visible track descended toward the orchard before curving toward the path that led back into the castle.

“That ground willnae carry them,” Ceana said. She pointed below the orchard, where the plants rose stubbornly. “Can ye see how uneven that path is? It is because water gathers there beneath the turf. Horses unfamiliar with it will sink to their knees.”

Oscar followed her finger. “Then how do the people reach the castle?”

“Behind that path,” Ceana said, pointing slightly to the left. 

“Can men on horses pass?”

“Only in a single file from here. But the lane widens near the orchard.”

Niall shifted his injured arm. “It was open when I came through. Gilmore’s men were watchin’ the visible track.”

Oscar called Lennan forward. “Take the leadin’ riders along that path and reinforce Morrag’s western line. Send four men through to the postern with word that MacKane has arrived. The rest dismount before the narrow ground.”

Lennan looked once toward the gorse Ceana had identified. “Along the path, then into the western lane?” 

“Aye. Bowmen, take the higher ground beside the orchard.” Oscar drew his sword. “I will strike Bryce’s western force and drive them away from the entrance.”

The men were moving before Lennan reached the bottom of the ridge.

Oscar led Ceana toward a broken section of the orchard wall. Two guards took positions on either side while another man helped Niall sit against the stones.

“Ye remain behind that wall until I come for ye,” he said.

“I can identify Morrag men and the signals from this place.”

“Then give what ye ken to the guards. Ye willnae approach the line.”

He leaned down and swept her cloak aside. His fingers closed around the sheath at her hip, testing its position before shifting it within easier reach. His knuckles grazed her waist, and Paisley’s ribbon briefly tickled his wrist. Her lower belly tightened at the contact while he checked the knife with rigid care.

After the sheath sat correctly, he kept hold of her reins. “Behind the wall,” he repeated, his voice quieter. “Until I come for ye.”

“Bring me parents out alive.”

He looked toward the postern, then returned his gaze to her. “I will find them.”

He released the reins and rode away before she could answer.

His raised sword sent his men toward the western lane. Lennan’s force emerged from behind the stone path and struck Bryce’s men on ground they had tested and found to be secure. The Gilmore line turned toward the new threat, giving the defenders near the other path even more room to advance.

Oscar joined the fighting at the front. He caught the first descending blow on his sword and drove the attacker aside. A second man rushed him. He turned, struck once, and moved forward while the Gilmore soldier fell away behind him. When men crowded the lane, he pulled his force back two paces, opened space, then sent them forward together.

Ceana gripped the broken stone until its edge dug through her glove. She watched intently as men moved within the smoke, their bodies reduced to dark shapes. Then Oscar’s command carried across the slope, and the MacKane line shifted toward his voice.

He emerged near the postern a while later, forcing two Gilmore men away from its narrow approach.

A guard beside Ceana lifted his bow toward a defender scrambling through a gap in the orchard.

“That is a Morrag man,” she said. “The brown plaid. His name is Alasdair.”

The guard lowered his bow. “Aye, me Lady.”

A white cloth appeared above the lower side door and was swept twice across the opening.

“They mean to pass wounded men through,” Ceana explained. “Tell Lennan to keep the lane clear.”

One guard ran the message forward. Moments later, MacKane shields closed around the short stretch outside the side door, creating a narrow corridor to the orchard.

The door opened, and soon enough, two wounded defenders stumbled through with help from men inside. Heather appeared behind them.

Ceana felt her heart skip a beat. 

Her mother’s sleeves were dark with blood, and loose strands of hair clung to her face. She looked across the orchard, spotted Ceana behind the wall, and gathered her dress.

“Maither!”

A defender reached for Heather as she came through the side door. She pulled free and ran into the exposed corridor. Another wave of Gilmore men surged again at the western line. One broke past a MacKane shield and drove toward the gap.

“Stay here, me Lady,” the nearest guard ordered.

However, Heather was still several feet from shelter. One of Ceana’s guards tried to reach for her cloak, but she was already over the broken wall and running.

The guard’s sword rang behind Ceana as she reached her mother. Her mother caught her by both shoulders and searched her face and then her gown for blood.

“Where are ye hurt?”

“Nowhere. Where is Faither?”

“Alive. He is in the inner courtyard directing the defense.”

Ceana’s knees wobbled. She pressed her forehead against her mother’s and drew in a full breath. Her grip then relaxed on her mother’s sleeve.

Heather turned at once and pulled her toward the lower side door.

“Daphne!”

Ceana blinked.

Dear God.

“Daphne, is that ye?” Bryce’s voice called again from the western reserve. 

Ceana looked across the lane and found him staring at her through the smoke. His eyes held furious recognition, and she could see it in the way he moved. For now, the smoke and distance between them concealed the absence of Daphne’s freckles, but the loosened hair around her face was much like Daphne’s. 

At that moment, a riderless horse bolted from beside the burning pyre. Men scattered away from its hooves, opening a gap between the Gilmore reserve and the broken orchard wall. Bryce left his command position and drove straight through it.

One of Ceana’s guards ran to intercept him. A Gilmore soldier caught the guard before he crossed the lane, while a second forced his way through the men behind her.

Heather shoved her toward the side door and snatched a fallen sword from the ground. She then placed herself in Bryce’s path.

“Maither, ye need to move!” Ceana shouted.

Heather swung at him, but Bryce struck her wrist with the hilt of his blade, sending her sword clattering across the ground. His hand then closed around her shoulder.

Ceana drew the knife from beneath her cloak. The wool caught around the hilt, and her damp fingers slipped once before the blade came free. As Bryce raised his blade toward Heather, Ceana slashed across the back of his hand.

He recoiled with a curse and released her mother. The cut opened through an old, blood-stained bandage, but his fingers stayed closed around his blade.

He rounded on Ceana. The hilt of his blade struck her wrist first, and her knife fell into the mud. He then seized her upper arm, dragged her against him, and locked his other arm around her ribs. The pressure knocked the air from her lungs.

“Ye come to Angus now,” he grunted. “Morrag has bled enough for yer refusal.”

She wheezed. “I am nae Daphne.”

If he had heard her, he said nothing about it. Instead, he hauled her toward a waiting horse near the edge of the reserve.

She tried to hook her heel behind a stone, but he dug his arm beneath her ribs and yanked her forward. Running out of other options, she stamped on his foot. His steps faltered long enough for Heather to catch her sleeve.

Bryce swung his blade at her, but Ceana caught his injured wrist with both hands and pulled on it with her whole weight. The blade stopped short of Heather.

“Maither, get back!”

Bryce crushed Ceana harder against his chest until each breath came shallow. Her heels slid through the earth as he dragged her onward.

With her vision blurring and time running out, she took a deep breath before she screamed at the very top of her lungs. “Oscar!”

Oscar, who was several yards away, forcing a Gilmore soldier away from the side door, stopped mid-swing. He turned, and his face hardened when he saw Bryce’s arm around her. He roared some order she was too weak to hear. Soon, his men closed behind him as he changed direction.

The first soldier in his path raised a sword. Oscar drove him aside and kept advancing. A second tried to sneak behind him, and Lennan met the man before he reached Oscar’s back.

“Release me wife,” Oscar barked.

Bryce pressed the blade to Ceana’s ribs. “Daphne belongs to Angus.”

“That is Ceana. Ye have me wife.”

Oscar lowered the point of his sword and turned his wrist, as though preparing to throw it aside. Bryce’s gaze dropped to the blade.

He looked at Ceana. “When I move, drop.”

He stepped forward, and Ceana dropped to her knees. Her weight pulled her downward, and Bryce’s arm slipped from her ribs to her shoulders. Oscar struck Bryce’s wrist with the hilt of his sword. His free arm then caught Ceana across the waist and pulled her behind him. She fell on one knee. Heather reached her and wrapped both hands around her shoulders.

Bryce recovered his footing with his blade still in hand and lunged at Oscar, reaching for Ceana again. Oscar stepped into the attack and drove his sword into Bryce’s chest.

The sound of the blade tearing through flesh rang out across the field. For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence. Then Bryce fell where he stood, blood pouring from his chest and pooling across the mud. 

Oscar withdrew his sword and turned away from him. He passed the sword to Lennan, dropped beside Ceana, and cupped her face in both hands.

“Can ye breathe?”

“Aye.”

“Deeply.”

She drew air until the ache beneath her ribs stopped it.

Oscar’s hands moved over her shoulders and down both arms before pressing carefully along her sides. “Where did his blade touch ye?”

“It didnae pierce me.”

He found the dark marks forming above her sleeve. His thumb stopped beside one, and his hand shook once. His gaze then cut toward Bryce’s body before returning to her.

She knew the pressure of his fingers. He used the same careful strength to test each rib through her gown, watching her face whenever he applied pressure.

Wrong moment, Ceana.

Lennan raised his voice over the western lane. “Laird Gilmore is dead. Cast down yer weapons.”

The sound of steel struck the earth as men began to surrender.

“Accept their surrender. Disarm and bind them,” Oscar ordered.

Others fled toward the low-burning pyre, and a Morrag man followed them until Oscar called him back.

“Nay man crosses the burn. Send help to the wounded on both sides.” He kept one hand around Ceana’s wrist as he spoke.

“I can stand,” she said.

He rose with her. Her legs shook under the first step, then folded. He caught her before her knees could hit the ground.

“I can walk,” she insisted.

He slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back. “Ye are finished walkin’ today.”

Ceana wrapped an arm around his neck. His heart pounded hard beneath her cheek, and each breath left him unevenly as he carried her through the lower side door. Heather stayed beside them.

David met them in the crowded inner courtyard with dried blood at his temple. When he saw Ceana in Oscar’s arms, he crossed the remaining distance and laid one hand on her cheek.

“Me wee lass.”

“Faither.” She closed her fingers around his wrist. “Ye are alive.”

“And Morrag still stands.” David looked at Oscar. “The inner defense can hold.”

“Lennan will leave men and supplies,” Oscar said. “We cannae lower our guard just because Bryce is dead. Ye never ken.”

David lowered his head. “Ye have me thanks, MacKane.”

“Put me men where the wounded need them.”

Heather led them into a small guardroom off the courtyard. Oscar set Ceana on a bench and remained close while her mother loosened her cloak. Paisley’s embroidered ribbon rested beside the bruises rising on her upper arm.

Heather pressed careful fingers along Ceana’s ribs, then examined her scraped palm. “The blade didnae pierce ye, but ye are badly bruised. Let me clean it for ye.”

“The linen and water belong outside,” Ceana said. “Men are bleedin’.”

“Ye can travel if ye remain supported and rest,” Heather added, her gaze moving to Oscar. “Keep pressure from her ribs.”

Oscar’s hand closed around Ceana’s uninjured forearm.

She looked up at him. “I want ye to take me home.”

He frowned, his gaze flicking to the walls.

“To MacKane,” she clarified. “Please.”

His fingers tightened once, but his gaze stayed on hers. “Alright, wife. I’ll take ye home.”

Outside, the guards bound the surrendered Gilmore men while supplies were passed around. David remained in the courtyard, directing his men, with Heather beside him.

A groom took the reins of Ceana’s mare while Oscar wrapped his cloak around her. He then lifted her into his saddle and mounted at her back, his grip firm. His arm settled around her waist, high enough to spare her ribs, and gently drew her against his chest.

Low smoke still rose from the castle as they cantered onto the western road. The men carried wounded fighters through the gate behind them, and others cleared the ruined lane.

Ceana watched her parents standing together on the other end of the castle gate until the distance blurred their faces. Once the castle began to shrink behind the ridge, she tucked her head beneath Oscar’s chin and felt his hold tighten around her. 

Her eyes closed before the castle disappeared.

CHAPTER 20

The horse stepped into a small hollow, and Ceana slipped lower against Oscar’s chest.

His arm tightened around her before her weight could pull her sideways. He drew her upright, keeping his forearm above her bruised ribs, then settled her head beneath his chin again, his cloak covering her from shoulders to boots. One corner had come loose near her wrist, so he tucked it beneath her arm and moved the reins away from the bruises Bryce had left.

He lowered his face until her breath warmed the underside of his jaw. It came rather evenly, which gave him one less thing to worry about. He found the pulse in her wrist and counted several beats before pressing the back of his fingers to her cheek. Her skin was cold.

He sighed and pulled the cloak closer. 

The blood had dried stiff across his sleeve and collar. A smaller patch came from the cut near his hairline, but the rest belonged to men he had dispatched.

Ceana did not stir when the horses changed pace.

“Ceana.” He touched his thumb to her jaw. “Open yer eyes.”

Her lashes lifted. “I am awake.”

“What tower lies beyond the next rise?”

“MacKane’s.” Her mouth moved faintly against his shirt. “Unless ye moved it while I slept.”

His breath left through his nose. “I didnae.”

“I am only tired, Oscar. I am nae lost.” 

Oscar laughed. “All right, then.”

She nodded, and her eyes closed again just as Lennan brought his horse beside them. 

“There are six wounded men ridin’ with the rear party. Two remain at Morrag because none of them could travel safely. We have seen nay second force.”

“Send a rider ahead,” Oscar instructed. “Clear the surgery and have water heated. The worst wounds are seen first when the rear party arrives.”

Lennan lowered his head and fell back.

The watch called from the curtain wall as Oscar reached the rise. The gates were opening before his horse descended the final slope. Mairi stepped out into the courtyard with several servants behind her. However, what had stopped him in his tracks was something else entirely.

Ahead of Mairi was a woman in a plain woolen gown, moving to catch up to them. 

Nay. This cannae be.

“What?”

Oscar knew those steady eyes and that firm set of her mouth. Her hair was pinned away from her face, as it had been whenever she worked beside their mother. 

“Am I hallucinatin’?”

He blinked and watched as she approached. A clean linen apron covered her gown, and a leather satchel hung from one shoulder. Then he saw the pale scar across her cheek and the edge of another beneath her collar.

“Muriel?” His voice was low. He almost didn’t want to speak her name, in case she was truly a hallucination. 

Muriel stopped beside his horse. Her gaze flicked to the cut at his hairline before falling to Ceana.

“I heard ye had actually married,” she said. “I didnae want to lose more time.”

Oscar could not form an answer. He kept Ceana against him with one arm and reached down with the other. His palm cupped Muriel’s cheek, feeling her warmth. She closed her fingers around his wrist.

“Good day, Sister.”

Ceana shifted against him and winced.

Muriel released him at once. “How long has she slept? Did she hit her head? Whose blood is that?”

“She has slept since⁠—”

“Bring her inside.”

“Did ye truly become a healer?”

“Aye. Ye may ask the rest after I have seen yer wife.”

Lennan held Ceana steady while Oscar dismounted. He reached up and lifted her from the saddle. Her eyes opened as he drew her against his chest.

“Muriel?” she murmured.

“I am Oscar’s sister,” Muriel said, walking beside them. “And I will see where ye are hurt.”

Ceana studied her face through heavy eyes. “Welcome home.”

Muriel’s hands stopped on the clasp of her satchel. She gave Ceana one brief nod and opened the door to the surgery.

At the threshold, Lennan reached for Oscar’s sword belt and unbuckled it. Oscar released the leather without looking away from Ceana.

Muriel glanced at the dried blood beside his temple. “I will clean that cut.”

“See to Ceana first.”

Muriel sighed. “Alright. Then wash it before ye sleep.”

Mairi brought water and folded linen while Oscar lowered Ceana onto the narrow bed.

Muriel drew a stool closer. “Do ye want yer husband to stay here?” she asked.

Ceana looked at Oscar. “Aye. Stay.”

The muscles in his forearm flexed as he braced a hand on the bedframe.

“Where do ye hurt?” Muriel asked.

“Bryce caught her across the ribs and⁠—”

She looked up. “I asked Ceana.”

Oscar closed his mouth. He moved one step back and clasped his hands behind him.

“Me ribs ache when I breathe deeply,” Ceana replied. “Both arms. Me right wrist. The cut on me palm stings.”

Muriel turned her face toward the window and examined her eyes, then pressed two fingers to her uninjured wrist, checking her pulse. She asked Ceana to open and close each hand. When the right one moved more slowly, Muriel supported it and tested the joint with careful pressure.

“Strained,” she concluded. “But nae broken.”

She loosened Ceana’s gown enough to reach the bruised area without exposing her. Bryce’s finger marks had begun to darken along both upper arms. The sight made Oscar’s hands twitch.

That bastard.

Muriel pressed her fingers along Ceana’s ribs. Ceana sucked in a sharp breath, and Oscar took a step forward. His sister, however, raised one hand, stopping him. His hands closed around the footboard until the wood bit into his skin.

“Draw a full breath,” Muriel instructed.

Ceana obeyed. Her face tightened near the end, though her breath remained clear. Muriel checked the other side, then covered her again.

“Yer ribs are bruised, but nothin’ is displaced.”

She washed the scrape across Ceana’s palm and bound it with a narrow strip of linen. Oscar watched her fingers pass over every mark he had been unable to prevent.

“Warmth, water, and rest,” Muriel advised. “Food when ye can bear it. If ye keep swoonin’ after sleep, send someone for me immediately.” She looked from Ceana to Oscar. “She will recover.”

“Ye are certain?”

“Aye. I wouldnae say it otherwise.”

The sound of running feet approached the door at that moment, and the children came in before Oscar knew it. Tommy reached the bed first, while Paisley followed with a folded blanket clasped against her chest. Ness poked her head around the door behind them, but Mairi caught the goat’s lead before she could reach Muriel’s satchel.

“We heard ye came to the healer,” Tommy said. “Even Ness was worried.”

“Mind her ribs,” Muriel warned.

Tommy wrapped his arms carefully around Ceana’s waist. Paisley took Ceana’s uninjured hand before spreading the blanket over her legs.

“Ness wouldnae eat,” Tommy said. “She only walked around.”

Paisley looked toward Muriel and went still. “Ye are still here.” 

“Of course, darlin’,” Muriel responded, stroking her hair gently. “I told ye I would wait for yer faither to return.” 

Eventually, her hand dropped, and Paisley turned back to Ceana. “Is yer family safe?”

“Aye.” Ceana’s gaze found Oscar. “Thanks to yer faither.”

His right hand moved toward his hip. The sword belt was gone, so his fingers stopped against his bloodied shirt. His jaw worked once, but he did not speak.

“Take her upstairs now,” Muriel said, gesturing towards Ceana. 

“I will carry her.” Oscar stepped toward the bed.

Ceana set her feet on the floor. “I can walk, for the love of God.”

Muriel watched her stand, then nodded to Mairi.

Oscar held himself still as Mairi supported Ceana’s uninjured side. Paisley remained beside her, and Tommy hurried ahead to clear the passage, with Ness following close behind.

Before Ceana turned away, she laid her fingers on Oscar’s forearm. The touch lasted only a moment. He watched her climb the stairs until she disappeared beyond the landing.

“She will recover,” Muriel assured him. “Now, where were we?” 

He kept his eyes on the landing, taking deep breaths. A board creaked above him, followed by the faint scrape of a footstep. His right arm still held the curve it had taken around Ceana on the road. Snapping himself back to the present, he forced it to his side.

Behind him, water poured into a basin. Muriel washed her hands, folded the used cloths, and closed the buckles of her satchel. She took the chair nearest the wall, angled so she could see the door.

“Yer wife is kind,” she remarked. “Ye are fortunate.”

Oscar faced her. The scar across her cheek ended near the corner of her mouth, pale against her skin.

“I wish ye had been as fortunate.” He moved closer and stopped at the table across from her. “Did Angus do that to ye?”

Muriel rested the folded cloth on her knee. “Nay, Bryce did.”

Oscar’s fingers closed around the table’s edge.

“I hadnae conceived during the first year of me marriage,” she continued. “Bryce decided Angus needed another wife, so, naturally, he ordered his son to kill me.”

The wood dug into Oscar’s palm. “And Angus obeyed?”

“He stood there. Bryce grew tired of waitin’ and took up the blade himself.” Muriel touched neither scar. She kept her gaze on him. “He began before Angus found the courage to stop him.”

Oscar quickly rounded the table. Muriel’s fingers froze on the cloth. He saw it and halted. Slowly, he opened his hand.

“How did Angus stop him?”

Muriel sighed. “Well, he took the blade from him and said he understood what must be done. Bryce believed Angus would finish it once we were alone.” Her thumb brushed across the linen. “When Bryce left, Angus apologized. Then he carried me beyond Gilmore land and found a healer willing to hide me.”

Oscar dragged the empty chair closer and sat, leaving space between them. “Bryce believed ye dead?”

“Angus told him I was, but it didnae last long. Word spread that I had left me marriage. Letters came after, written in me hand.”

Oscar clenched his jaw. “Did ye write them willingly?”

“I wrote what Angus told me would keep Bryce from searchin’. If Bryce believed I had chosen to disappear, his pride wouldnae allow him to admit he couldnae find me.” Muriel looked down at her hands. Fine calluses marked the pads of her fingers. “The healer kept me alive. When I could stand, I helped grind herbs and change dressings. In time, the work became mine, and I stayed for it.”

Oscar paused, absorbing everything his sister had just said to him before speaking again. “So, Angus saved ye.”

“Aye. He saved me life.” Her grip tightened on the folded cloth. “But he also made ye believe that I had abandoned every person I loved. He let me carry the name of a faithless wife while he remained at Bryce’s side. Then he decided to marry Daphne while I was still his wife. So I’m nae all that grateful.”

Oscar looked at the dried blood across his sleeve. “I see.”

“I owe Angus me life,” Muriel acknowledged. “But I daenae owe him me return.”

“Ye owe him nothin’.” Oscar raised his eyes to hers. “I killed Bryce today.”

Muriel drew in a breath through her nose. Her fingers did not move on the cloth.

“Had I ken,” he said, “I would have made him suffer.”

“More pain wouldnae give me back the year I lost.”

Oscar bowed his head. The blood had dried beneath his nails and had caught in the creases of his knuckles. “I should have come for ye.”

Muriel leaned forward and laid her hand over his. “I sent letters in me own hand. Ye had nay proof that Angus had harmed me or kept me. If ye had marched upon Gilmore, people on both sides would have died for what ye couldnae prove.”

“Ye were alone.”

She exhaled. “But I survived. That is all that matters in the end.”

He turned his hand beneath hers and pulled her from the chair. His arms closed around her, and the coarse linen of her apron bunched beneath his fist. She held him for several heartbeats, one palm pressed between his shoulders, then stepped back.

“Angus willnae take ye from MacKane,” Oscar promised. “I will seek every lawful means to end the marriage.”

“I didnae come back so another man could make decisions for me, Oscar,” Muriel replied. “I will decide what to do and how.”

“Aye, of course,” Oscar responded before calling for Lennan.

His man-at-arms appeared in the doorway, carrying his sword belt.

“Send a rider to a solicitor at first light,” Oscar ordered. “I want to ken whether Muriel’s marriage can be annulled, and what protection can be secured against any Gilmore claim.”

Lennan inclined his head gravely. “It will be done.”

Oscar gestured toward the sword. “Keep it below.”

When Lennan withdrew, Muriel opened her satchel and checked its contents. “I want the chamber closest to the surgery. I will need the herbs and linens, and leave to tend the villagers.”

“They are yers. Choose whatever work ye wish.” Oscar held her gaze. “Welcome home, Muriel.”

Another board creaked overhead, and Tommy’s voice carried faintly through the ceiling.

Muriel said something about the herb stores, but Oscar caught only the final words. His arm had curved again, his hand suspended where Ceana’s waist had rested against him.

“Why are ye standin’ here when yer mind is upstairs?” she asked, snapping him back to the present.

“What?” He blinked.

“I can tell yer mind is with her. Go to yer wife.”

He shook his head. “Nay. I have only just got back me sister.”

“And I will still be here at breakfast.” She took up her satchel. “Go.”

Oscar crossed the passage and climbed up the great stairs without stopping to wash the blood from his face or sleeves. Near the upper landing, Tommy’s low voice came through his chamber door, and Paisley corrected him in a whisper. He could even hear the scrape of Ness’s hooves across the floorboards.

Eventually, he reached the doorway.

Tommy had wedged himself against Ceana’s right side, and Paisley sat at her left, one hand covering Ceana’s beneath the folded blanket. Ness lay across the rug at the foot of the bed, her chin resting on her forelegs.

The view felt formidable just as Ceana turned toward the doorway, and he watched with nothing but concern in his eyes.

CHAPTER 21

Ceana watched as the goat nosed at something she couldn’t see on the floor. 

“Ness wouldnae eat while ye were gone,” Tommy insisted, his hand wrapped around two of her fingers. 

She was propped against the pillows so that her bruised ribs did not pull beneath her own weight. Paisley sat at her other side with the folded blanket spread across their legs, and Ness lay near the foot of the bed, raising her head whenever Ceana shifted.

“She ate half a turnip yesterday,” Paisley pointed out.

“That was different,” Tommy argued. “She wouldnae touch proper food. She paced from the fireplace to the door, then bleated whenever anyone crossed the courtyard. Last night, she slept outside me chamber and kept wakin’ me.”

Ceana stroked her thumb across his knuckles. “Perhaps she feared losing the one person in this castle willin’ to sneak her apples.”

“I give her apples.”

“Aye, but ye make her perform tricks first. I respect her dignity.”

Tommy began explaining that Ness enjoyed standing on overturned buckets, and Ceana smiled until a deeper breath made her wince.

Paisley’s gaze sharpened. “Are ye truly well?”

“Muriel found nothin’ broken.” Ceana adjusted the blanket with her free hand. “I will hurt for a while. Tomorrow should be easier, and the day after that easier still. I am tired, though.”

Paisley watched her for another moment before accepting the answer.

“Ye must be happy to have yer aunt back, are ye nae?” 

Before Paisley could respond, Oscar appeared in the doorway. A line of dried blood covered one side of his shirt, and dirt streaked the skin above his collar. He didn’t look terrible, though, and at that moment, that was quite a relief. Even the cut on his brow had clotted beneath a dark strand of hair. 

His attention moved from the pillows supporting Ceana to Tommy’s grip and Paisley’s careful position beside her, his hand curling at his side. Ceana met his gaze.

He crossed to the bed and stopped within reach. “How badly does it hurt?”

“Every part of me has raised a complaint.”

Tommy looked concerned. “Even yer toes?”

“Me toes have been remarkably brave.”

Oscar touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. The brief contact seemed to satisfy the children more than her answer had. Tommy’s shoulders lowered, and Paisley slackened her grip on the blanket.

“Ceana needs a bath, warmth, and sleep,” he said.

“I can be quiet,” Tommy declared at once.

Ness raised her head at the protest.

Paisley looked from Oscar to Ceana. “Will ye stay with her?”

“Aye.”

Oscar lowered himself beside the bed until he was level with the children. “Ye both did well to keep her company. Ye may come back at first light if she is awake.”

Tommy tightened his grip. “How will ye ken she will still be here?”

“Because I will be here.”

Ceana saw the promise in Oscar’s gaze and the careful distance he kept from the bruises on her arms. It was clear he had given the children the answer he needed for himself.

That thought made her skin prickle a little. 

Paisley climbed out of bed first. She drew a night rail from beneath the blanket and placed it on the stool beside the fireplace.

“Mairi warmed it,” she said. “I thought ye might be cold after the bath.”

“That was wisely done.” Ceana touched her hand. “Thank ye.”

A small smile curved Paisley’s mouth before she collected Ness’s lead.

Tommy bent over Ceana’s uninjured hand and pressed his cheek against her knuckles. “Ye will be here when I return?”

“Aye.”

Oscar placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “She will.”

Paisley led Ness out of the room. Tommy followed, looking back before pulling the door shut. Their footsteps lingered outside, then retreated down the corridor.

Oscar remained where they had left him.

“Do ye still want the bath Muriel recommended?” he asked.

“Aye. I can smell smoke in me hair.”

At his call, servants carried in the portable tub and set it behind the screen near the fireplace. Ceana remained covered while they brought buckets of steaming water and clean linen. Oscar tested the water with the inside of his wrist, added cooler water, then placed a low stool beside the tub. He arranged the towels and comb within reach before dismissing everyone.

Once again, the door closed. 

Oscar looked toward Ceana. “Can ye stand?”

“With yer arm.”

He offered his forearm and allowed her to set the pace. The first step pulled sharply beneath her ribs. Her breath hitched, and he stopped before she could attempt another step.

“Back to the bed?”

“Carry me to the stool.”

His gaze searched her face. Once she raised her arms as far as the bruises allowed, he slid one hand beneath her knees and supported her back with the other. He kept clear of her upper arms as he lifted her.

Ceana rested her cheek against his chest. The smell of blood and smoke clung to his clothes, and his heart pounded hard beneath her ear. He set her on the stool without lingering.

“Will ye help me with the fastenings?” she asked.

“Aye,” he responded and kneeled behind her, slowly loosening her gown. Each lace passed slowly through his fingers. When the sleeve caught around her strained right wrist, he stopped.

“Turn me hand inward,” she murmured.

Oscar followed her directions, supporting the joint until the sleeve slipped free.

For some odd reason, his restraint at that moment made her acutely aware of her exposed shoulders and his breath near the back of her neck.

“Did Muriel examine that?” Ceana asked, glancing at the cut near his hairline.

“It is shallow.”

“Shallow cuts still require cleanin’.”

“Ye may inspect it later. For now, ye need a bath.”

He helped her into the tub, supporting her left side while she lowered herself. The warm water stung the smaller scrapes along her legs.

“Bearable?” he asked.

“Aye.”

He folded dry linen beneath her bound palm and settled it on the rim. After removing the remaining pins from her hair, he slowly poured water over the strands. His palm shielded her eyes while smoke and dust ran into the bath.

Ceana closed them as his fingertips worked soap into her scalp. The pressure remained gentle, each movement steady until the tension at the back of her neck eased. He rinsed her hair and washed her shoulders, then paused with the cloth above her ribs.

“Here?”

“Lower. The left side is less sore.”

Oscar moved his hand lower. He washed her back before moving to her legs, lifting each one only far enough to pass the cloth beneath it.

“Thank ye for goin’ to Morrag,” Ceana said. “For savin’ me parents and the clansfolk.”

His hand stopped around her ankle. “Yer life isnae a debt ye owe me, Ceana.”

“Morrag isnae yer clan.”

Oscar sighed. “It is yers. That means it is mine as well.” He then set her foot into the water and reached for a clean cloth. “May I see yer arms?”

Ceana raised the left one carefully. Bryce’s finger marks had darkened across her skin. Oscar’s hand stopped before touching them. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he examined the edges with the lightest pressure.

“That part is tender,” she said, and he withdrew his fingers at once. She laid her uninjured hand over his wrist. “Bryce cannae touch me again.”

He looked at her face. His shoulders remained rigid, though his next breath came more evenly. He rinsed the soap from her skin and folded the cloth beside the tub.

“Now, kneel where I can reach ye,” she said.

“The cut has stopped bleedin’.”

“I cannae keep starin’ at it without doin’ nothin’, me Laird,” she responded, her voice a bit sharper than she had intended. “Someone needs to tend to it, and I ken it isnae goin’ to be ye.” 

Oscar moved between the tub and the fireplace, then lowered himself to one knee.

Ceana wet a clean strip of linen in the tub and then wiped the dried blood from his brow, holding his temple steady with her thumb. His eyes closed briefly. Beneath the grime, she saw the deep shadows left by battle and two hard days in the saddle.

She cleaned a streak from his cheek and examined the small cut. “It has stopped bleedin’.”

Oscar did not move.

“See, that wasnae so hard now, was it?” she asked.

“I told ye it wasnae a problem.”

“Well, now it wouldnae be,” she whispered. 

For a minute, there was nothing but silence between them. Ceana didn’t know what to feel, and a part of her needed to make that clear. 

“Ye can go to meet yer people now, me Laird. As ye can see, I am alive.” 

His gaze dropped to the bruises on her arms. “I ken ye are alive. I saw ye speak. I have heard ye breathe.” He raised his eyes to hers. “I need to make certain ye’re alive, Ceana. I need to calm somethin’ inside me.”

Ceana cocked her head, then held out her uninjured hand. “Then help me out of the bath. I can show ye properly.” 

“What are ye sayin’?” Oscar asked, his voice rough.

He remained on one knee, close enough for her to see the pulse beneath the dirt at his throat.

“I want ye to lift me out of the bath and lay me on the bed.” She ran her thumb across his cheek. “Then I want yer mouth on me.”

His breathing stopped for one beat. “Ye want me to… even after what just happened to ye?”

“Aye. I want to feel yer hands and hear yer voice. I want ye to listen when I tell ye what I need.”

Oscar narrowed his eyes at her, almost in disbelief. “All right.”

Without waiting any longer, he rose and grabbed a towel. He wrapped it around her before lifting her out of the water. Once she was seated on the stool, he kneeled again and dried her with slow pressure, beginning at her feet and working upward.

His touch followed the condition of her body. Around the scrapes, he blotted the moisture. Near her ribs, his hand remained open and light. By the time he reached her breasts, her nipples had tightened beneath the linen.

His gaze lifted to hers, a question in it.

“Continue,” she said.

He passed the cloth over each breast, then slid one arm beneath her knees and carried her to the bed. Ceana directed him to arrange the pillows until she could recline without pulling at her ribs. Her damp hair spread across the linen as she relaxed further into the mattress. 

Oscar sat beside her. “Tell me, Ceana. Where do ye want me to touch ye?”

Ceana took his hand and placed it below the soreness along her ribs. “Here. And everywhere else. Well, everywhere that doesnae hurt.”

A smirk curved his mouth before he bent and kissed the inside of her unbound wrist. His mouth trailed up her forearm, stopping before the first bruise. He pressed another kiss to the clear skin above it.

When he reached her shoulder, his lips lingered there while his hand slid up her waist, his thumb stroking the underside of her breast.

Ceana exhaled. “Closer.”

Oscar supported the back of her neck and kissed her. His mouth opened over hers with slow pressure, tasting of clean water and the smoke that still clung to him. She threaded her fingers through his hair and drew him nearer. The movement pulled at her side, and she winced.

Oscar lifted his head at once. “What? What is it?”

“It is only me ribs. Keep me flat.”

He removed a pillow from beneath her and waited until her breathing steadied. Then his mouth returned to her throat. He kissed along her collarbone before closing his lips around one nipple.

Ceana curled her fingers into his hair. His tongue slid over the sensitive peak, slow enough that she felt each stroke. When she pressed her breast toward him, he drew more of it into his mouth and sucked. Low heat gathered between her legs. She shifted beneath him, seeking pressure that his careful position denied her.

“Oscar.”

He released her nipple and kissed down her stomach. His hand remained spread across her waist, clear of every bruise.

“Is it all right if I move yer legs?” he asked.

“Aye.”

He lifted one knee and waited while she lifted the other. The position exposed her fully to him. He looked between her thighs, then raised his gaze to her face.

“Please.”

He settled on his knees on the floor at the edge of the bed. His hands slid beneath her thighs, supporting their weight as he lowered his mouth to her sex.

The first touch of his tongue made her breath catch. He licked from her entrance to her bud, then repeated the stroke with firmer pressure. Her thighs trembled around his shoulders.

He parted her with his thumbs, and cool air kissed her wet flesh before his mouth closed over her. He drew gently on her swollen bud, and her hips lifted off the bed, a sharp sound escaping her. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

Oscar stopped and looked up. “Did I hurt ye?”

“Nay.”

“Then let me hear ye.”

He bent again, and his tongue circled her slowly, pausing whenever her body tightened so he could repeat the motion. Ceana watched the dark crown of his head between her thighs until the sight became too much. Her eyes closed, and her hand returned to his hair.

“Again,” she whispered.

Oscar drew her sensitive bud between his lips while the tip of his tongue pressed against it. The pleasure forced her legs wider. When her hips jerked, his hand closed around one of them to steady her.

She suddenly tensed. Oscar released her and lifted his head at once, his chest heaving against the edge of the mattress.

“Where?”

“Yer hand.” She swallowed and placed her palm over his fingers. “Keep it open. Daenae grip me there.”

His fingers spread beneath hers. “All right.”

“Continue.”

He remained still.

Ceana stroked his hair back from his brow. “I want ye to continue, Oscar.”

He pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh before returning his mouth to her. This time, his palm rested open on her hip. Every part of her remained free to move. His tongue found the same rhythm, and she guided him with small tugs on his hair.

“There,” she moaned. “Keep doin’ that.”

Oscar obeyed. He licked her sensitive bud with short, steady strokes before taking it between his lips. Her lower belly clenched, and her toes curled into the bedding. He made a low sound against her, and the vibrations tore through her like nothing she had ever felt before. 

She was close. She could feel it. 

Soon enough, she arched as far as her ribs allowed. Pleasure tightened through her until her whole body shook around his mouth. She cried out and pressed her palm against the mattress, unable to grasp anything without hurting her wrist.

Oscar kept the same rhythm through every hard pulse. When she grew too sensitive, she tugged at his hair.

“Enough.”

He stopped immediately.

Her legs trembled as he kissed the damp skin above her knee. He rested his cheek against her inner thigh and looked up at her, his mouth slick with her release.

Ceana struggled to draw an even breath. “Do ye believe me now?”

Oscar slid his open palm to her belly. He watched it rise and fall beneath his hand. “Aye,” he said. “I believe ye.”

He brought warm water and a fresh cloth from the washstand before gently cleaning between her thighs. His shoulders had relaxed, though his gaze still returned to each breath she took.

Afterward, Oscar slipped the warmed night rail over her head. He guided her bound hand through one sleeve and settled the linen around her body without catching her wrist.

When he leaned across her to pull back the covers, Ceana saw the hard bulge beneath his plaid. Instinctively, she reached for the fastening at his waist.

Oscar laid his hand over hers.

“And ye?” she asked.

“I have what I need.”

Her gaze moved to his face and then back to his groin. “There is nay way that is comfortable.”

“It will pass.” He raised her fingers to his lips. “Let me hold ye.”

She searched his face and found no withdrawal there. His gaze moved over her with open hunger, softened by the care in his hands.

“All right.”

Oscar washed the remaining blood from his face and throat. He stripped away his ruined shirt, cleaned his chest, then pulled on fresh linen before joining her beneath the covers.

“Will ye stay?” she asked.

He settled beside her and curved one arm around her waist. “Try to send me away.”

She rested her cheek over his heart while his palm lay open against her stomach, and each breath moved them together. Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under to the slow strokes of his thumb. 

She couldn’t tell how long she had been out for. All she knew was that the room had become brighter when she woke up, and another unusual weight had pinned her to the mattress.

Her eyes snapped open. Something lay across her lower torso, and another weight covered her left arm. She tried to draw a deeper breath and stopped when her ribs protested.

“Easy,” Oscar whispered behind her, his voice sending chills down her spine. 

The morning light showed Tommy asleep across her hips, one arm flung over her. Paisley had curled up against her uninjured side with both hands wrapped around her forearm. At the foot of the bed, Ness lay across the blanket. One hoof had become tangled in the fold near Ceana’s ankle.

Oscar was awake beside them, his head propped on one hand. Ceana turned to look at him and saw the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Should I be offended that all of them chose yer side of the bed?” he muttered. 

She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. The movement, however, still jarred her sore ribs. “Ye must have let them in.”

“They arrived at first light. Tommy reminded me of me promise.”

Ness shifted, and her trapped hoof pulled the blanket tighter around Ceana’s feet. Oscar reached down and freed it without disturbing the goat.

Ceana poked Tommy’s cheek, and his face burrowed deeper into her night rail. 

“We only wanted to make sure ye were all right,” he mumbled without opening his eyes.

Paisley tightened her hold as though she had heard him.

Oscar placed his hand on Tommy’s back and left the boy where he was.

Eventually, Ceana reached across the children, and Oscar turned his palm beneath hers and laced their fingers together.

At that moment, she didn’t know if she had ever been as happy as she was. And frankly, all she could see going forward was this level of happiness.

CHAPTER 22

The week after, all Ceana felt was that happiness. As she slowly recovered and gained back her strength, a part of her couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome. The children checking in on her continuously and Muriel making certain she rested properly helped tremendously. 

One week later, she turned a square of boiled linen until the repaired edge lay flat, then folded it into the healer’s bundle beside Muriel’s elbow. The bruises on her arms had faded to yellow at the edges. A layer of new skin covered the scrape across her palm, and a dull ache remained in her wrist whenever she twisted it.

She flexed her hand before lifting another cloth from the basket.

Muriel glanced at the movement as she stripped dried yarrow leaves from their stems. “That is the last bundle ye fold today.”

Ceana sighed. “Ye said that three bundles ago.”

“And ye have ignored me three times.” Muriel swept the leaves into a shallow wooden bowl. “I am beginnin’ to understand how Oscar feels.”

Within the week, Muriel had made the surgery her own, and Ceana was all the happier for it. She inspected the washed linen for thinning while Muriel replenished the herbs spent after the battle.

“Oscar gives orders as if God appointed him to improve the rest of us,” Ceana said. “Ye give orders because ye have seen what happens when people ignore them. There is a difference.” 

“The distinction isnae quite as clear as ye think, Ceana.” Muriel tied the neck of a linen pouch. “Did yer sister ignore advice as readily as ye do?”

Ceana smiled. “Daphne listened with great care. She simply did whatever she pleased afterward.”

“Then ye must miss her.”

The cloth under her hand needed no further inspection. She folded it once. “Every day. Her letter helped. She is safe, and she is thrivin’.”

Muriel waited, her fingers resting on the cord around the pouch.

“She never asked me to take her place at the festival,” Ceana continued. “I decided that. I thought me own future held little worth beside what our faither would lose if she ran.”

Muriel tightened the cord around the pouch. “Ye thought yer family would be safe if ye took her place.”

“Aye.”

“Daphne disagreed?”

“Oh well, she couldnae if she tried.” Ceana set the linen atop the finished bundle. “But I ken she wouldnae have let me do that if she was here.”

Muriel’s mouth curved as she returned to the yarrow. “She sounds like a Tulloch.”

“She sounds like our maither when she is angry. I havenae told her that, though.”

They worked for several minutes. Dry stems cracked beneath Muriel’s fingers, while sunlight streaming through the narrow window showed every loose thread in the linen.

Muriel nudged a new pile toward Ceana, then caught it back before Ceana could reach for it. “Ye have told me how Daphne fares. In fact, ye have told me almost everythin’. Ye ken what I have yet to hear from ye?” 

Ceana smirked. “What?”

Muriel cocked her head. “Anythin’ about ye. Ye have avoided tellin’ me how ye are farin’ with me braither.”

“I am sittin’ in yer surgery, doin’ work ye told me to leave alone. That should answer ye.”

“All it answers is the state of yer stubbornness. I asked about yer marriage.”

Ceana’s neck grew warm beneath her collar. Muriel watched her with such patience that Ceana knew she could wait all afternoon.

“Marriage is… better than I expected,” she admitted.

Muriel nodded. “Wow, such passion. I am certain Oscar will be overcome.”

Ceana flicked a loose thread at her. Muriel caught it against her apron.

“I like wakin’ beside him,” she said. “The children come in before we have risen and speak to us as if they have always seen us together. He listens to Tommy’s long explanations, and Paisley asks his opinion after she has made her decision.” She ran her thumb along a fold in the linen. “At night, I listen to his breathin’. I didnae ken how much I would depend on that sound.”

Muriel studied her face. “So he is happy, then.”

“He is… restrained.”

“Oh well, that has always been his identity. Oscar has been restrained since birth. Ye could tell me that he frowned at the midwife, and I would believe ye.” 

Ceana laughed, then pressed a hand to her side until the lingering tenderness beneath her ribs subsided. “I like to think his present restraint is more troublesome.”

Muriel’s eyebrows rose. “Ah.”

“Daenae look so pleased. Ye daenae have to share a bed with him.”

“Oh well, I have only been here a week, and I can tell he is much calmer with ye around.” Muriel picked up another yarrow stem. “He may become insufferably proud when ye give him another bairn though, so if I were ye, I wouldnae look forward to that.” 

Ceana’s hand stilled on the cloth. “Oscar doesnae intend to have more children.”

The stem broke between Muriel’s fingers. “What?” She blinked. “He told ye that?” 

Ceana nodded. “Aye. Before we wed, and again on our weddin’ night. He has kept to it since.”

Muriel looked toward the door, as though her brother might be standing beyond it with an explanation. “So what in God’s name do the two of ye do in the same bed every night?”

Ceana held her solemn expression for as long as she could. “We sleep. And suffer.”

Muriel laughed first, and Ceana joined her, lowering her forehead to her forearm when her ribs began to ache. Once she could breathe comfortably, she raised her head and found Muriel wiping moisture from beneath one eye.

“I suppose he is much more restrained than when he was young,” Ceana added. “After the bath the other day, all he did was lie beside me.” 

Muriel covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking.

“I am his wife,” Ceana continued. “I want him, and he wants me. Every night he holds himself away until sleep takes him. Then he reaches for me. By mornin’, his restraint has returned.”

Muriel lowered her hand. “When we were children, I used to climb the orchard wall after he forbade it. Once, he saw me at the top and went so quiet that I climbed down simply to make him speak. He didnae scold me until both me feet touched the ground.”

Ceana pictured Oscar beside her in the dark, his body tense and his answers reduced to a few rough words. “Fear makes him quiet.”

“It always has.”

At that moment, a loud bang sounded in the passage. Ceana pushed back from the table, while Muriel reached for the small knife beside the herbs. The bang came again, like wood striking stone.

Muriel raised one finger and crossed to the door. Ceana followed, and a gust of wind moved through the narrow passage when Muriel opened the door. When they saw no one, Muriel slowly lowered the knife. Ceana held the shutter while Muriel fitted its hook into an unbroken eye.

“What was that?” Ceana asked.

“Probably the wind,” Muriel responded, brushing rust from her fingertips. “I suppose the rainy season is drawin’ near.”

Soon enough, they were back in the surgery, and Ceana reclaimed her seat among the linen bundles.

“I spent years expectin’ an empty bed for the rest of me life,” she said. “I could picture it without fear.” Muriel took the chair across from her as she pressed her nearly healed palm to the linen. “Marriage taught me to listen for Oscar. I wake up when he turns away from me. If he chose another chamber, I would lie awake listenin’ for footsteps that never came.”

Muriel reached across the table and covered Ceana’s hand with her own. “Then tell him. He may think stayin’ away is another way to keep ye safe.”

“Oh, he kens,” Ceana responded, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Maybe he doesnae,” Muriel whispered. “Men can be incredibly clueless.” 

“Trust me,” Ceana sighed, looking back at her. “He kens.” 

Oscar heard the maids before he turned into the upper passage.

“The fine linen would make sweet cradle cloths,” one said. “If Her Ladyship gives the Laird another bairn, Mairi will have us sewin’ until the end of the season.”

“I would sew gladly. The nursery has been quiet for too long.”

They came around the corner carrying a basket between them and stopped at the sight of him. Their hopeful smiles vanished as both curtsied so quickly that the folded linen slid sideways.

“Me Laird,” they murmured.

Oscar let them pass, and soon enough, their whispers resumed near the stairs.

Suddenly, a small, broken breath came from the window recess behind him. He turned and found part of his daughter’s gown caught in one of the closet doors. 

“Paisley?”

The closet door shifted, and she came out with her chin raised and one sleeve pressed beneath her red-rimmed eyes.

“Is everythin’ all right?” 

“Aye, I caught dust in me eyes.”

Oscar looked toward the shuttered window. “Aye.”

Her mouth tightened, and she turned her face toward the glass.

He sat at the far end of the window seat, and she remained standing until her jaw trembled. She plopped down beside him, keeping a handsbreadth between them.

He waited.

She picked at a loose thread on her cuff. “I ken I am twelve.”

“Aye.”

“I ken how bairns are made, and me courses have begun. I am too old to cry because two maids mentioned a cradle.”

He kept his eyes on her small fingers. They pulled the thread until it cut into the pad of her thumb.

“Did their talk frighten ye?” he asked.

Paisley released the thread. “When ye and Ceana have bairns of yer own, will ye forget Tommy and me?”

“Never.”

She shook her head at the speed of his answer, and a tear slipped down the cheek she had wiped dry. “I am old enough to ken that ye must say that.”

Oscar reached for her, and she threw her arms around him with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs. He hadn’t noticed how quickly time had passed. She had now grown too tall to fit beneath his chin as she once had. 

“Ye will always have me, love,” he murmured into her hair. “Nay child could take yer place or Tommy’s.”

Her fingers twisted into the back of his tunic. “The women ye nearly married wanted sons. They spoke as if Tommy and I were a burden their children would have to endure.”

“Ceana chose Tommy before she kent his name. She helped him with Ness when they first met, remember? Ye are hers because she loves ye, nae because she has to love ye.”

“She may love her own bairn differently.” Paisley swallowed. “Women say that a maither does. Ceana may nae ken until she has one. Then Tommy and I could become the children she cared for while she waited for hers.”

Oscar wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb. “There will be nay other bairn. I daenae intend to have one.”

Paisley studied him with Ceana’s stubborn directness, learned over weeks spent at her side. “Can ye promise what Ceana’s body will do?”

His hand went still against her face.

“Even if she kept lovin’ us—” She broke off, her grip tightening on his tunic. “She could…”

Oscar waited while she pressed her lips together. Her next breath shook against his chest.

“Ma died givin’ birth to Tommy,” she whispered. “If Ceana has a bairn, she could die too. We could lose another maither.”

Her words dredged up memories he would rather have remain buried forever. He could feel Tommy’s little body in his arms again, wrapped too loosely because his hands would not obey him. A pool of blood spread across the sheets on the bed as the healer covered his wife’s face.

His grip on Paisley tightened until she shifted against him. He loosened it at once and cupped her head in his palm.

“Nay one is leavin’, do ye understand?” he said, his voice gentle. “Nay one is dyin’.”

Paisley gripped his tunic while he brushed tangled hair away from her damp cheek.

“Nay one is dyin’.”

Her shoulders continued to shake for several breaths. Oscar stayed beside her until she calmed, his cheek resting on the crown of her head. When her hands finally relaxed against his back, he kissed her hair.

“Will ye sit here a little longer?” she asked.

“As long as ye need.”

When she straightened, she made him promise that Tommy would hear nothing of her tears. Oscar walked her to her room eventually and watched her step inside. 

Later, he found Mairi near the lower hall, directing a servant who carried a stack of mended blankets. He waited until the man was out of earshot.

“Me Laird, is there anythin’ I can⁠—”

“There will be nay more talk of future bairns where the children may hear it,” he said, cutting her off. 

Mairi glanced toward the stairs. “Has someone upset them?”

“I just want that talk to stop.”

Her gaze returned to him. “Aye, me Laird.”

Oscar crossed the hall toward the garden passage. Through the open arch, he saw Ceana sitting on the low wall in the afternoon sun. A handful of small white flowers lay in her lap, while Tommy held up another for her inspection. Ness had planted her front hooves against the stones and was stretching her neck toward the blossoms.

Ceana caught the goat’s nose in her palm and pushed her back. Tommy laughed, and she joined him, her face tilted toward the boy.

Oscar stopped beneath the arch. He knew the warmth of Ceana’s body under the covers and the quiet sound she made when she settled against his chest. Each night beside her required him to refuse what they both wanted. One lapse in that restraint could put a child inside her.

Paisley’s teary face returned to him. So did Tommy’s fragile little body and the blood all over the birthing bed. 

Paisley had called Ceana their mother, and Tommy already reached for her whenever he was frightened. Another pregnancy could leave them both beside a bloodied bed.

Another pregnancy could break him. 

He took a breath, then stepped into the garden and went to speak with his wife.

CHAPTER 23

Ness jerked her head aside as Ceana brought the ends of the flower chain together. The unfinished crown slipped over one horn and hung beneath her jaw.

“The large one belongs on this side,” Tommy said, pointing to the goat’s left ear.

Ceana caught the flowers before Ness trampled them and moved the white bloom where Tommy had chosen. She felt a faint pull in her healing wrist as she twisted the stem around the chain.

Tommy crouched to inspect her work. “Nay, it was better where ye put it.”

“Ye have nay idea how a properly crowned goat should look.”

The little boy cocked his head. “She must look like a lady.”

Ness stretched her neck toward the loose stems in Ceana’s lap. Ceana rescued the nearest flower from her teeth and pressed a palm against her nose. “Then yer lady lacks courtly manners.”

Tommy’s laugh drew a glance from the gardener. He declared that the crown required three more flowers and hurried along the path to find them.

Ceana flexed her hand when her wrist pulled again. Movement beyond Tommy drew her eyes toward the far end of the garden.

Oscar approached with his hands folded behind his back. His face held the hard stillness she knew from council meetings, and his steps made little sound on the packed earth. For some reason, the sight reminded her of Muriel’s account of the orchard wall. 

Fear made him quiet.

His gaze went first to her face, then to the hand resting among the flowers. Warmth pooled between her thighs as she remembered the feel of his mouth on her and his arm around her.

“How do ye feel?” he asked.

“Well enough to be overruled by a five-year-old concerning floral arrangements.”

“I am helpin’,” Tommy protested, holding up a crushed yellow bloom.

“Aye. And ye have had the gravest responsibility,” Oscar said.

Tommy grinned and returned to his search.

Oscar looked at Ceana again. “Will ye walk with me?”

Her smile faded, and she set the crown on the low stone wall. “Aye.”

“Tommy, find three flowers Ness hasnae tried to eat. Stay beside the gardener while ye choose them.”

Tommy accepted the charge with all the seriousness Oscar had given it.

Ceana promised to return, then followed Oscar down the narrower path. He matched her pace with his arm hanging at his side.

The gap between their sleeves made her remember waking against his chest. A low branch crossed the path. Oscar placed his hand on her waist as he guided her beneath it. The contact spread heat through her gown. Her breath caught, and his fingers tightened once.

As soon as the path widened, he released her and put a step between them. His next breath sounded rougher than the last.

Tommy remained visible beside the gardener, holding flowers beyond Ness’s reach. They had moved far enough that he could not overhear them.

“We should start using separate chambers tonight,” Oscar began.

Ceana looked at him for the better half of a minute. The silence that followed was so thick that she could have sworn he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Has Muriel said that me bruises require more space while I sleep?”

“She has said nothin’ of the kind.”

“Have I been disturbin’ yer rest?”

“The problem is mine.” His gaze shifted beyond her shoulder. “Because it is gettin’ harder and harder nae to touch ye.”

A low pulse moved through her body. She looked at the hand hanging at his side, the same hand that had supported her in the bath. His fingers curled into his palm.

“Do ye want me gone from yer bed?”

Oscar faced her fully. His gaze flicked over her mouth before rising to her eyes. “I want ye in it too much.”

Her next breath caught in her throat. His desire would put a closed door between them.

“Like I told ye, Oscar, if it is children ye are worried about⁠—”

“It is more than that.” The silence between them grew even thicker as he flexed his hand. “I cannae lie beside ye night after night, touch ye as I did, and trust meself to stop at the same point every time. Sooner or later, I will want more.”

“Ye want more now.”

His jaw tightened. “Aye.”

At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to scream at him as loudly as she could. However, she could only stand still and try her very best to control her temper.

Oscar watched the look on her face and turned toward the wall beside him.

“It is me life ye claim to protect,” she said. “And now I cannae have a say in what risk I may accept?” 

His palm came down on the rough stone. “I willnae gamble with yer life.”

“Well, good. Nay one is askin’ ye to do that.”

“Ceana, ye daenae understand.” 

“Oh, do I nae?”

“Paisley and Tommy have already lost one maither.” His knuckles whitened against the wall. “I willnae risk them losin’ another.”

She had seen his face whenever Tommy’s birth was mentioned. She stepped closer, close enough to see the pulse beneath the scar at his temple. “Did what happened after the bath mean anythin’ to ye?”

His grip tightened on the wall as his gaze dropped to her mouth, and his weight shifted toward her before he caught himself. He forced one foot back. “Aye.”

Ceana waited. His chest rose beneath his tunic, and the muscles in his forearm remained rigid even as he said nothing more.

A bruised petal clung to her dress. She lowered her gaze and brushed it away. Her hand paused against the wool until her fingers stopped trembling.

“As ye wish, me Laird.”

Oscar’s shoulders locked. He lifted his hand from the stone and stared at her. “Ceana.”

She raised her eyes. “Do ye require anythin’ else?”

His lips parted, then pressed together. “Nay.”

At that moment, Tommy came running with flowers crushed in both fists. “I found four! The gardener says this one is a weed, but it is bonnier than the others.”

Ceana turned away from Oscar and examined the flowers. “Then the gardener has poor taste. We shall use it.”

Her fingers shook when she lifted the flowers. She laid the stems on her palm and began fastening the flowers into the open space. Tommy corrected her twice, and she asked his opinion on the final bloom with such seriousness that his gaze stayed fixed on the crown.

Ness tried to steal the weed, but Ceana tapped her nose and tucked it behind her ear. “There. A proper lady.”

The goat shook her head, and the crown teetered and caught against her horns.

Tommy laughed. “It is perfect.”

“Entirely thanks to yer assistance, I am certain.”

Ceana straightened the flowers and offered him her hand. Oscar hovered beside the low wall, watching them.

“Come, sweetness,” she said. “We must show Paisley what ye have made.”

Tommy took her hand, and Ness followed with the crown tilted over one eye. They walked toward the castle, leaving Oscar beside the wall with the distance he had chosen.

Later that afternoon, Ceana knew she wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, so she found Mairi in the upper passage and waited till she finished directing the maids who stood with her.

“Which chamber can be prepared tonight?” she asked as the last maid left with her new tasks.

Mairi paused with her ring of keys in one hand. Across the narrow passage, an oak door stood a few paces from the chamber Ceana had shared with Oscar.

“That one, me Lady. It is smaller, though it has a sound bed and fireplace. The latch is also secure.” Mairi glanced toward the guest stairs. “There is a larger chamber further down.”

“I am stayin’ in the family wing. Prepare the room, and have me belongings moved out of the Laird’s chamber.”

Mairi’s thumb passed over the edge of a key. “Did he order ye to move out?”

“He asked for separate chambers.”

“Ah, I see.”

Ceana kept her gaze on the opposite door. “I need it ready as soon as possible.”

Mairi asked nothing further. She unlocked the smaller chamber, then called two maids from the stairs and gave them their directions.

The transfer began immediately. Folded gowns crossed first in a maid’s arms. Another maid brought Ceana’s night rails and returned for the combs and ribbons beside the washstand. Ceana gathered Daphne’s letters herself, tied the packet closed, and placed it in the chest at the foot of her new bed. Her books followed with her workbasket.

The door to Oscar’s chamber remained open. Each time Ceana crossed the passage, she saw more bare wood where her belongings had once been. The turned cover exposed the side of the bed she had occupied.

Her stomach tightened at the sight of the hollow in the mattress. She could almost feel the weight of Oscar’s arm against her waist.

“Shall I remove the second pillow?” Mairi asked.

“Leave the room as it is.”

A maid carrying the last of Ceana’s linen nearly collided with Tommy outside the children’s rooms. He had Ness’s battered flower crown in one hand, retrieved after the goat shook it off beneath the stairs.

“Why is she takin’ yer things?” His eyes followed the maid into the opposite chamber. “Are ye goin’ away?”

Ceana went to him at once and took his free hand. “Nay, sweetness. I am stayin’ here.”

Paisley stepped out of the schoolroom. She stopped beside the door, her hands pressed flat against her dress.

“Yer faither and I will sleep in different chambers for a while,” Ceana explained. “This has nothin’ to do with either of ye. Ye will find me at breakfast tomorrow, and I will spend the family hour with ye as always. If ye need me sooner, come to me.”

“May I still come into yer room?” Tommy asked.

“Ye and Paisley may always come.”

Paisley’s fingers loosened against her dress. “I will.”

Tommy considered the open chamber, then hung Ness’s crown on a peg beside the door. “So she will ken which one is yer room.”

Ceana touched the crushed white flowers. “That is quite sensible.”

By the time Muriel stepped into the passage carrying fresh bandages, the maids had finished folding Ceana’s gowns in the chest. Muriel watched one of them leave Oscar’s chamber with an empty basket.

“I passed by me braither downstairs,” she said once the servants had gone. “He answered two questions with one word. He only does that when somethin’ frightens him.”

“He has requested separate chambers.”

She looked across the passage. Her mouth tightened, though she kept her voice level. “I can stay with ye this evenin’.”

“I daenae want pity.”

“Well, good thing I am only offerin’ me company.”

Ceana nodded. “I need to do somethin’. Ye can tell me which supplies need to be replaced after the battle at Morrag.”

“I will bring ye the list before breakfast.”

Muriel touched her shoulder once and left her to the work basket she had opened.

Night had fallen when Mairi returned. A fresh stack of firewood stood beside the hearth, and another blanket had been laid across the bed. Ceana had already found the new iron pin fitted through the latch.

“After he learned which chamber ye chose, the Laird sent the carpenter,” Mairi explained. “He ordered the wood as well. There is another guard at the family stairs.”

Ceana folded the blanket once and pressed its edge flat until her healing wrist began to ache. Her gaze remained on Oscar’s closed door across the passage.

“I’d like to retire, please,” she said.

After Mairi withdrew, Ceana changed into her night rail and combed her hair alone. She banked the fire, returned the comb to the washstand, and crawled into bed on the side she had always occupied beside Oscar.

Her hand moved across the linen before she caught herself. Her palm found only the empty pillow and the cold sheet. She remembered the warmth of his forearm and the steady breath near her ear.

The thought made her draw her hand back and close it against her chest.

From tomorrow, she would only speak to Oscar about the children or the running of the castle. Any private conversation he would have to start. She would leave his chamber door untouched.

Much later, footsteps sounded in the passage. She recognized their pace as they stopped outside her closed door. She slid out of bed and crossed the floor, her fingers hovering over the latch.

Oscar did not knock. His boots crossed the narrow passage, and she heard the latch on his door click. She lowered her hand. 

She was done. She would not ask him again.

CHAPTER 24

The next morning, Ceana decided to focus on her duties for once.

Mairi had informed her about the renovations needed for the grain stores, and she had thought they were minor. Now that she was in the room, she realized she was wrong.

She pressed two fingers against the darkened side of the grain sack. The coarse weave gave beneath them, and when she drew her hand back, moisture shone across her fingertips. A water drop fell from the loosened roof boards and struck the floor beside her shoe.

“Four sacks nearest the wall have taken water,” Mairi said. “The rest remain dry.”

Two porters stood beside an empty handcart, waiting. The master carpenter pointed toward the opening overhead. “It needs seasoned timber, me Lady. The sound lengths we have are set aside for the practice frame. We have had little spare since men and material went to the repairs after the attack on Morrag.”

Mairi held the household tally open between both hands. “Which work is to have it, me Lady?”

Ceana wiped her fingers on a cloth and faced the carpenter. “Can the damaged frame be closed safely?”

“Aye. Rope around it will keep the men off until fresh timber comes.”

“And if this roof takes another night of rain?”

“The gap may widen, and more of the grain will be wet by mornin’.”

Ceana took the tally from Mairi. The next delivery was marked clearly, along with the quantity still held in the inner stores.

“The practice frame can wait. The stores cannae. Rope it off, bring the timber here, and move every dry sack before another drop reaches it.”

Mairi turned to the porters. “Load the dry sacks and take them to the inner stores. Keep the four damp ones apart.”

The men bent to their work. Before Ceana had marked the change beside the repair entry, the first sack thudded onto the cart. The carpenter strode into the courtyard, calling for his men as he went.

“Will the sound grain carry us to the next delivery?” she asked.

“It will,” Mairi said. “With some to spare.”

Ceana initialed the entry.

Mairi took back the list and moved after the porters, directing them toward the inner door. Through the open entrance, Ceana saw rope being drawn around the damaged practice frame. Two men lifted the reserved timber from the yard and started across the wet stones.

Oscar appeared behind them. He had left training without changing. Sweat darkened the collar of his tunic, and leather guards still covered his forearms. Fresh abrasions crossed his knuckles.

Heat coiled low in Ceana’s belly. She remembered those long fingers spread across her thighs, holding her open while his mouth coaxed loud screams from her. Her hand closed around the cloth she had used to wipe her fingers.

Oscar spotted her at once. His gaze dropped to the list resting in Mairi’s hands, then returned to Ceana’s mouth as she thanked the carpenter, who had come back to indicate where the first length would be set. The man finished answering her before he turned.

“Me Laird.”

Oscar acknowledged him with a nod before looking toward the men crossing the yard.

“Me Laird,” Ceana said.

“Why is the practice frame closed?”

“The grain-store roof is leakin’. Four sacks are damp, and another rain may reach the rest. I have redirected the seasoned timber there.”

She kept her hands loosely folded, the cloth still in her palm.

“Can the frame stay out of use? I daenae want Tommy findin’ his way here.”

“It has been cordoned off, and replacement timber has already been added to the next order.”

Oscar glanced through the doorway. The rope was secured, and the first timbers had reached the store wall. The men continued working under Ceana’s orders.

“When will the roof be secure?”

“The carpenter expects it finished before the next rain.”

Mairi led the last porter out with the remaining dry sacks. The carpenter followed, leaving Ceana and Oscar on opposite sides of the ledger table. It was narrow enough that Oscar could have reached for her without leaning. Ceana kept her fingers on its scarred edge anyway. 

His gaze roved over her face and stopped beneath her eyes. “Ye left the warm milk untouched again.”

Her thumb ceased tracing the wood. The maid who collected the cup at first light had carried it past his chamber to reach the stairs.

“And ye crossed the passage before dawn.”

“I went to train.”

Ceana looked down at the split skin across his knuckles. “I can see.”

When she raised her eyes, his gaze had returned to her mouth. His fingers curled beside his thigh, drawing the leather guard tight across his wrist.

At that moment, a porter called for Mairi from the courtyard.

Ceana reached for the ledger and turned it back to the completed repair entry. “Do ye require anythin’ further concernin’ the stores?”

Oscar held her gaze for another breath. “Nay.”

“Then ye can go, me Laird.”

His jaw tensed before he turned and walked out. Ceana watched until he disappeared from view.

Outside, the carpenter called the lift, and the first timber rose from the courtyard in the hands of four men. Ceana opened the ledger, set her finger beneath the next entry, and returned to her work.

Later at noon, she found herself helping Muriel. She drew a piece of twine tight around a packet of dried yarrow while Muriel checked the label. She passed over the smaller jar before Muriel asked and cut another length from the spool.

Muriel glanced at the jar and gave her a private smile. They had worked together often enough that they barely needed to speak. 

A sealed response to the inquiry regarding Muriel’s marriage lay beside the herb ledger, the seal unbroken. Ceana moved Muriel’s cup and the finished herb packets away from it.

“Thank ye,” Muriel said quietly.

Paisley sat near the fireplace with a book open on her knees. Across the room, Oscar attended to correspondence at the table. When Ceana looked up, she found him staring at her hands. His gaze rose to meet hers before he returned to the letter before him.

Tommy waited until Mairi had set down the tea tray and every adult had settled before dragging a low stool to the center of the room and climbing onto it with a rolled sheet beneath one arm. Planting his feet apart, he tucked his free hand behind his back in imitation of Oscar addressing the council.

Dear God, what mischief is the boy up to this time?

“I have prepared a treasure hunt.”

Ceana set down the spool. “Have ye now?” 

“Aye.”

She wiped her hands on the front of her dress. “Well then, I hope ye have made it difficult. I have a reputation to uphold.”

His grin widened. “Only I ken where the treasure is. If nobody finds it by the end of the day, I may keep it.”

“How convenient. A rule written entirely for yer own benefit.” She leaned one elbow on the table. “What treasure has inspired such generosity?”

Tommy lifted his chin. “Faither’s signet ring!”

Oscar’s quill paused above the page. His gaze dropped to the bare index finger of his right hand, then flicked to his son. “Thomas.”

Tommy straightened on the stool, though his shoulders hunched slightly.

“The signet ring isnae a toy,” Oscar chided. His level voice made Tommy draw the map closer to his chest. “Where did ye find it?”

“On the desk in yer study. Ye had finished usin’ it.”

“And ye took it without askin’?”

Tommy’s toes curled over the edge of the stool. “Well, it makes excellent treasure because ye just said it is important.”

Ceana pressed her lips together. The reasoning belonged wholly to a five-year-old.

Oscar laid down the quill. “Takin’ what isnae yers without permission is theft, even when ye mean to use it for a game. Ye will never take the ring again unless I have given ye leave. Do ye understand?”

“Aye, Faither.” Tommy looked down at the roll beneath his arm. “I promise.”

Mairi spoke from beside the tea tray. “He showed me where he put it, me Laird. The ring is wrapped in wool and secure. I can fetch it if ye need it.”

Oscar studied her as she adjusted the teapot, meeting his scrutiny calmly. However, before he could answer, the door opened. Lennan entered with several folded papers tucked beneath his arm.

“A rider leaves before dusk,” he said. “These need yer seal before he goes.”

Tommy looked at his father with renewed confidence. “Ye had better start lookin’.”

Ceana laughed.

Oscar turned toward her, his correspondence forgotten. His eyes lingered on her smile. For six weeks, she had given him as much courtesy as was required. In fact, she kept the smile as Tommy beamed at her.

Tommy jumped down and unrolled the map across the herb packets. The paper curled toward his wrists, so Ceana caught one edge, while he weighed the other with a herb jar. Paisley’s careful handwriting filled the space beside the drawings. A green-brown stain marked one corner, and an inner passage had been drawn in a way Tommy could never have managed. 

Ceana looked at Paisley, who bent over her book with sudden interest. 

Oh, so that is how it is, is it nae?

Muriel sorted the packet Ceana had just tied. Oscar’s gaze traveled from the handwriting to the stain, then settled on Mairi, who was pouring tea.

“Ye may nae ask me for help,” Tommy announced. “And there could be nay more than two people per team.”

Ceana studied the first folded clue. “Then I intend to win.”

She heard Oscar’s breath catch softly and looked up. His attention had left the map. The tight line of his mouth softened as he watched her, and his hand closed slowly around the edge of the table.

Ceana turned to Paisley. “Will ye join me?”

Paisley glanced toward Oscar. “I cannae. I must see what Ness is doin’.”

Beyond the window, Ness stood beside a stable boy with her lead looped securely around the boy’s wrist. The goat was attempting to eat a broom.

“Aye. That looks urgent,” Ceana said.

Paisley gathered her book so quickly that a loose sheet slid from between its pages. She snatched it up, gave Ceana an apologetic smile, and left.

Ceana faced Muriel. “Shall we make a team?”

“I must gather herbs and leaves before the light fades.” Muriel rose beside a basket already filled to the brim. She gathered the ledger and the sealed reply, which slipped from beneath it.

Ceana caught the letter before it touched the floor. When she handed it back, Muriel’s fingers closed around hers for an instant.

“Thank ye,” Muriel murmured.

“I should hate for yer herbs to be delayed.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, and she left before Ceana could put another question to her.

Mairi set down the teapot. “I must inspect the repaired roof before the evenin’ meal.”

Lennan gathered his papers. “And I have a rider to prepare.”

Tommy darted after Paisley, calling that no one would persuade him to reveal another clue. Their steps soon faded beyond the door.

Ceana remained at one side of the table while Oscar approached the other. The map lay between them, held flat by the herb jar.

“If I am goin’ to have me signet ring returned before Lennan’s rider leaves,” Oscar said, “we must play together.”

“I am willin’ to help recover clan property, me Laird.”

His hand stopped above the map, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “We’re alone; ye daenae have to be formal.”

“Well, I am only doin’ what ye asked me to do, remember?” 

“Ceana.” His voice was low.

He held her gaze, shoulders squared across the narrow table, and offered no other words.

They reached for the map at the same moment, and their hands paused with scarcely an inch between them. Oscar looked from her hand to her face. His breathing deepened, pressing his chest against his shirt. He took the opposite edge of the map and held it there.

Ceana unfolded the first clue and pressed down the narrow strip of paper. Paisley’s neat letters carried Tommy’s blunt instruction.

“Begin where Ceana made Faither agree to her terms. Find the oldest MacKane marriage contract.”

“So… the study?” she asked.

“The oldest contracts fill half a chest.” Oscar lifted the edge of the map. “Tommy has chosen an inconveniently large collection.”

“I expect to find the right one before ye finish complainin’.”

The corner of his mouth curved despite his narrowed eyes.

Ceana took the opposite edge of the map, and they both crossed the room. Their shoulders drew close in the doorway. At the first bend in the passage, his sleeve brushed hers, but she said nothing about it. If they were going to get through this together, they needed to be quick about it.

CHAPTER 25

Ceana traced the marks carved into the deed chest. Tommy’s map rested against her hip while she inspected a shallow curve almost hidden among older scratches.

Oscar reached for the map. “I think I should have this, since I ken where the castle records are kept.”

Ceana laughed. “Well, I hold the clue.” She shifted it behind her, and her sleeve brushed his wrist.

“Give it to me,” he demanded.

“Ye have had six weeks to do whatever ye wanted on yer side of the passage, me Laird. I am afraid the map will remain with me.”

His gaze held hers. “Then I must confine me authority to the lock.”

He drew a key from his belt and opened the chest. Several folded records filled the lower shelves, while a narrow panel sat within the carved upper frame.

“The oldest documents are kept behind that,” he said. “The panel lifts once the catch is released.”

Marks from several generations scored the wood. Ceana compared them with the older MacKane symbol Paisley had copied onto the map and found the same hooked line near one corner.

“This one.”

Oscar pressed beneath it while Ceana stopped behind him, placing the map on the table for a brief minute. A hidden catch yielded, and the panel loosened. As he lifted it, Ceana saw their marriage contract in the lower compartment. Oscar’s firm hand had written their names across the outer fold, with her signature beneath his. Her fingers stopped above it as she remembered his hand closing around hers during their bargain.

“Ye kept our marriage contract here?”

“Where else would I keep it?”

She looked at their names once more, then reached for the linen-wrapped bundle above.

Oscar drew it forward while she kept the wrapper steady. Their fingers met over the tie. His forefinger lingered against hers, warm and rough, with the linen trapped between them. Ceana felt his breath near her temple before she loosened her hold.

A folded paper had been fastened around the protective wrapper, and the documents beneath remained untouched. Ceana recognized Paisley’s neat writing.

Where Father trains, find the line no watcher crosses. The oldest MacKane mark guards the next clue.

“The trainin’ yard,” she said.

Oscar nodded. “Remember the boundary ye once treated as a suggestion?”

“It served me well, did it nae?” she responded as she grabbed the map and made for the door.

The yard remained wet from the rain as the men fitted the redirected timber above the grain store, and rope enclosed the damaged practice frame. Oscar passed the working men without interrupting and followed her to the flat stones marking the observers’ boundary.

Ceana remembered crossing that line to challenge him over the children. When he had dismissed his men, he had watched her so intently that she had forgotten to move until everyone in the yard had disappeared.

She searched the nearest stones, running her fingers over them as steadily as she could.

“The current mark willnae help,” Oscar said, crouching near the last stone. “Here.”

Ceana kneeled beside him and found a waxed fold inside a narrow recess. She worked two fingers into the gap, though the covering refused to shift.

Oscar drew his dagger. “Hold the edge.”

Their knees touched as he fitted the tip beneath the wax. His shoulder pressed against hers while he lifted the covering, and she caught the paper and drew it free.

“There we go,” she whispered and rose to her feet.

Before she could steady herself, her shoe slipped. 

Nay.

Oscar’s arm closed around her waist, his palm settling on the curve of her hip. He held her until she regained her balance. A streak of mud covered the wrist below his leather guard, and she brushed it away with her fingertips. The tendon flexed beneath her touch.

She stepped out of his reach and lifted the paper. Paisley’s words appeared above a crooked animal with pointed horns.

“Find the goat that never eats in the room where Faither tells the old stories,” she read.

Oscar studied the drawing, a smile spreading across his face. “I wonder what that could be.”

Ceana laughed.

His answering laugh was low and brief, and she hurried inside before he could claim the lead. She entered the story room first. While Oscar checked the carved figures near the fireplace, she went straight to the shelves bearing the children’s treasures.

“There.” The wooden goat stood above her reach. “Tommy once tried to feed it oats.”

“I can pull it down.”

She shook her head. “So can I. It isnae somethin’ serious.”

Before Oscar could respond, she pulled the low step beneath the shelf and climbed. He stood close behind her, his hands hovering beside her waist. When the step shifted, one hand closed around her side.

She caught the wooden goat, though one leg had lodged behind a box. Oscar reached above her. His chest brushed against her back as his arm extended past her shoulder. Then his fingers covered hers on the figure before he worked it free.

They stepped down together. A clue was tied beneath the goat.

“We could ask Tommy whether we have interpreted his drawin’ correctly,” Oscar suggested.

“If ye ask for Tommy’s help, husband, he will never let ye live it down.”

Oscar’s hand paused on the knot.

Ceana realized what she had said too late. She opened her mouth, ready to correct herself. But then she looked into his face and closed her mouth.

His eyes remained on hers. “Then we daenae ask him.”

They bent over the clue.

Beside Tommy’s crooked arrows sat the small watermark Muriel left on her healer’s notes, and a faint herb stain marked the paper.

“At the loch, find the shore stone with the oldest MacKane mark. Take three steps into the water. Find the stone that doesnae match.”

“The loch.” Ceana folded the paper into the map.

“The water will be cold,” Oscar warned.

She cocked her head. “I daenae think the clue requires warmth.” She turned toward the western passage.

Oscar took the wooden goat so it could be returned later and followed her to the door. “All I am sayin’ is that it is goin’ to be cold outside,” he sighed. 

“Then we had better solve it quickly, husband.”

This time, she was aware of what she had called him, so she left the story room before he could answer. His boots followed her into the passage.

She handed him the map, then lifted her skirts clear of the mud and hurried down the damp slope. The rain had stopped, leaving shallow rivulets along the path and beads of water beneath the roofs. Ahead, the weak late-afternoon light spread across the loch, and the surface lay calm beneath thinning clouds.

Oscar followed close enough that she heard each wet strike of his boots as Tommy’s map rustled in his hand.

“Outrunnin’ me willnae make the ring appear sooner,” he drawled.

“Well, keep pace or surrender.”

“I have kept pace this far.” His dry tone made her glance back. She found him smirking. “I expect I can survive the final hill.”

Ceana faced forward and hurried the last few yards.

Soon enough, her eyes landed on the weathered stones that stood along the shallow western bank. She searched the visible faces while Oscar crouched beside the largest and scraped damp earth from its base. He rubbed a patch of mud away with his thumb, uncovering a hooked carving worn pale with age.

“Here,” he said. “The earlier MacKane mark.”

Ceana took the map and compared the copied symbol with the exposed lines. They matched. 

Three paces beyond the marker, a cluster of gray and brown stones showed clearly beneath the water.

“I will retrieve it,” Oscar declared.

“Nay,” Ceana responded, already unfastening her cloak.

She spread it over a dry patch of the shore and folded the map inside it. Oscar watched her sit on the marked stone and undo the damp laces of her shoes. By the time she had set them beside her cloak and pulled the first stocking off her leg, he had removed his own cloak and laid it nearby.

His gaze followed her hands as she took off the second stocking. When she rose, his eyes trailed over her bare calves. She held his eyes while she gathered her outer dress and secured it with her girdle. 

“Have ye found the clue from there?”

His jaw shifted. “Wait, Ceana.”

She tested the shallows with one bare foot. The bottom remained firm beneath her toes.

“Ceana.”

She didn’t respond. The cold water closed around her ankle before he finished speaking.

She drew in a sharp breath and took another step. The water rose to her calves. At the third step, it reached her knees and soaked the hem of her undergarments.

Most of the stones beneath the surface had the same dull colors. Soon, she spotted a blue one between two larger rocks. “There.”

She bent and reached into the water. Her gathered dress loosened, allowing her wet petticoats to cling higher against her legs. One sleeve dipped past the wrist, and the ends of her hair caught against her damp cheek as her fingertips grazed the blue stone.

Then the rock beneath her left foot shifted.

Water splashed behind her. Oscar waded in with his boots on and caught her around the waist before she could fall. His chest pressed against her back while he planted his feet on either side of the troublesome rock.

“I was keepin’ me balance just fine,” she huffed.

“We can argue about that later.”

His arm stayed firm around her until she had planted both feet flat. The water darkened his clothes below the knees, and his palm curled around her waist above the soaked fabric.

“I have it within reach.”

“Then take it.”

Ceana bent again. With Oscar braced behind her, she worked the blue stone from the lakebed and straightened. It filled her palm and carried more weight than its size suggested. A clean 0 had been engraved into one face.

“I found it.” She lifted the stone in triumph. “The next clue is mine.”

Oscar spared the 0 a brief glance. Then his gaze returned to her wet skirts and traveled up to her damp sleeve. A loose strand of hair lay against her mouth. He went still behind her, his hand still on her waist.

“Ye’re torturin’ me, wife.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Ye are torturin’ yerself, husband. I told ye I cannae have children.”

“Six weeks have changed nothin’ about the risk.”

This time, she let the silence fall before responding. “They have changed nothin’ about yer desire for me either, apparently.”

He let out a slow breath through his lips. “I cannae risk what may follow if I take ye again. But I can do this.”

He lifted his free hand to her face. His fingers stopped beside her cheek, close enough that she could feel their warmth against her wet skin.

Ceana tossed the blue stone onto his cloak. It struck the wool and stayed. Then she caught his hovering wrist and brought his hand down to her waist. “Then do it.”

He pulled her against him as his mouth crashed onto hers. A moan caught in her throat. She gripped his shoulders and kissed him back, opening to the first stroke of his tongue.

Warmth spread from his mouth while the water chilled the skin beneath her wet clothes. Oscar widened his stance and pressed her against his body. One hand cupped her jaw, and the other held her waist with enough force that his fingers pressed through the clinging layers.

Ceana rose onto her tiptoes and wound her arms around his neck. Her bare heel slid over a smooth stone. Oscar tightened his arm and anchored her without lifting his mouth. She clung to him harder, pushed against him, and felt his breath break when her fingers tangled in his hair.

He kissed her until her lips tingled. Each time he adjusted the pressure, she followed and kept her body pressed against his. His hand moved from her waist to her hip, gathering the wet fabric, then traveled up her ribs. 

She felt each rough fingertip through the soaked fabric while she caught his lower lip between her teeth, and the low sound he made sent heat through her as cold water moved around their legs.

His mouth trailed over her cheek and found the sensitive spot beneath her jaw. She tipped her head back enough to grant him access, gripping the back of his neck when his lips moved down her throat. His hand stayed on her hip, though his breathing roughened against her skin.

When he returned to her lips, she met him at once. Her toes strained against the lakebed as she reached for every inch of him that she could.

She shivered with so much excitement when she drew back for air that she felt unsteady. She was so anxious to see where this would go next that she could barely hear the water lapping at the bank. It wasn’t as clear as before, but it didn’t matter. 

Wait. It wasn’t as clear as before.

Before she could speak, the marked stone tilted sideways. She was still processing what was happening when the edges of her vision darkened.

She blinked and tried to plant her feet more firmly, but her fingers loosened against his shirt. One knee gave. Oscar caught her before she could hit the water and hauled her up against his chest. His mouth tightened, and his eyes searched hers.

“Ceana, look at me.”

She forced her eyes up to his.

“Are ye hurt?”

“Nay. The shore just tilted for a moment.”

“Did ye hit yer head?”

“I didnae fall.” She swallowed and waited for the dark spots to recede. “It is the cold water, or I rose too quickly.”

Oscar kept one arm around her and closed his other hand around her forearm. “We are leavin’.”

“Me sight is clearin’.”

He guided her through the three shallow steps without loosening his hold. At the bank, he wrapped his cloak around her wet skirts and shoulders. Her shoes and stockings remained beside her folded cloak. He picked up the blue 0, pushed it into his pocket without looking at it, and turned back to her.

“The ring,” she said. “Lennan needs the seal before dusk.”

“Mairi kens where it is. We are goin’ to Muriel.”

“I can walk.”

She took one step up the bank. The ground tilted beneath her, and her hand shot to his shoulder.

“All right, that is enough,” he said, and lifted her into his arms before she could protest. 

His wet boots drove into the mud as he took the shortest path toward the castle.

“The dizziness is passin’,” Ceana muttered against his shoulder.

“Muriel will decide whether it has passed.”

He did not slow down. Ceana could feel the force of each breath beneath her hand and the strength of his arm across her back. By the time they reached the main entrance, the dark spots had cleared from her vision, though a faint dizziness remained when she moved her head.

A guard stepped forward at the sight of them.

“Find a maid, anyone.” Oscar ordered. “Send her to the western bank to collect everythin’ we left there.”

He carried Ceana inside without waiting for an answer.

The shortest passage kept them clear of the family rooms, and his wet boots struck the stone hard as he turned toward the surgery. Soon, he shouldered the door open and carried Ceana across the threshold.

Muriel looked up from the mortar and pestle. Her hand stopped when she saw Ceana wrapped in Oscar’s cloak. Ceana could hear her voice as she approached but was too weak to turn to her. 

“Dear God, what has happened?”

CHAPTER 26

Ceana eventually turned to watch as Muriel crossed the room and pulled Oscar’s cloak off her shoulders before the door had swung shut.

“Put her in the chair.”

Oscar lowered Ceana onto it.

Muriel threw the wet cloak onto the table and then faced him. “Outside, Oscar. I need to ask yer wife private questions.”

His jaw tightened, and one hand remained on Ceana’s shoulder. “Is she hurt?”

“I am steady enough for Muriel to work,” Ceana assured him, briefly covering his hand with hers.

His fingers flexed beneath her palm before he withdrew them. He stepped out, closing the door as gently as he could. His boots carried him two paces down the passage and then stopped.

Muriel wrapped her in a dry blanket and pressed a cup of warm, honeyed water into her hands. She examined her eyes, studied the pallor around her mouth, then took her pulse.

“What happened before ye lost yer balance?”

“I was standin’ in cold water. Then Oscar kissed me.” Ceana tightened her grip on the cup. “Me husband has never understood moderation.”

Muriel’s mouth twitched. “I also noticed ye had to sit twice as we worked last week, but I didnae want to say anythin’ about it. Now I’m concerned. Is this somethin’ that has been happenin’ recently?” 

“Risin’ has become difficult, even when I sleep deeply.”

“And yer appetite?”

Ceana glanced at the closed door. “Sometimes breakfast turns me stomach. There have been mornings when I pushed the food away.”

Muriel lowered her voice. “Do yer breasts feel sore or heavy?”

Heat crept up Ceana’s face. “Aye. I think I’m goin’ to have me courses soon.”

“When did they last come?”

“Before the weddin’. Long absences are ordinary for me, since I cannae bear children.”

Muriel’s eyes narrowed.

“Who told ye that?”

Ceana opened her mouth, but no answer came at first.

“Ye can tell me,” Muriel said, her voice reassuringly calm.

“I am the second daughter of a second daughter. Daphne was born only minutes before me. The women in me maither’s family spoke of the pattern all me life. When me courses came irregularly, I believed they were right.”

“Did any healer examine ye?”

“Nay.”

“Did ye ever have reason to believe that conception had failed? Were ye with any other man before me brother?”

Ceana’s fingers twitched around the cup. “Oscar is the only man I’ve been with.”

Muriel sat opposite her. “Bein’ born second doesnae reduce yer chances of conception, Ceana. Monthly courses arenae always regular, and a family tale cannae decide what yer body may or may nae do.”

She considered Ceana for another moment. “Yer courses have stopped, and this fatigue began before today. Food turns yer stomach, yer breasts are tender, and ye are pale and dizzy.” She leaned forward, her voice quiet but firm. “All of that points to one thing, Ceana—ye are with child.”

Ceana stared at her. The cup warmed her fingers, yet she could no longer feel it. One hand dropped from the cup and settled on her belly before she knew it. “What did ye just say?”

Muriel’s face softened. “Ye are carryin’ a child.”

For a minute, Ceana was stunned. Then a laugh broke past her lips, small and startled. Tears followed before she could take another breath. She set down the cup and placed her other hand on her belly, pressing both palms to the flat plane beneath her gown.

For years, she had pictured herself tucking Daphne’s children in their beds and returning alone to a chamber without a cradle. She had expected to remain the useful aunt while Daphne became a wife and mother. Now, all she could think of was Oscar on their wedding night. 

She remembered his weight over her and his hand holding hers against the bed. She remembered the warmth of his seed inside her, then the care with which he had cleaned and covered her afterward. 

“Me bairn,” she whispered.

Muriel waited while Ceana laughed through her tears and stroked the place that held nothing she could yet feel.

“Do ye want me to be with ye when ye tell Oscar?” Muriel asked.

Ceana shook her head. “Say nothin’ yet. Give me time to tell him meself.”

“Then I shall.”

Muriel helped her into dry clothes and made her take several careful steps before permitting her to leave.

Ceana opened the door to find Oscar standing where his boots had stopped, his wet clothes clinging to his rigid body. Mairi waited nearby with the recovered cloak, the map, and the signet ring.

“Tommy placed the ring in me keepin’ before the hunt, me Laird,” Mairi said. “The 0 means there are nay more hidin’ places. The children wanted ye and Her Ladyship to finish together.” She returned the ring to Oscar and placed the folded map in Ceana’s hands.

Oscar ran his eyes over Ceana’s damp face. “What is wrong?”

Ceana tightened her fingers around the folded map. “Let’s go to yer study.”

His eyes moved over her face once more before he offered his arm, and she accepted it. His hand closed around hers, while the other settled beneath her elbow as though one uncertain step might send her to the floor. She imagined taking his hand once they were alone and laying it over her belly.

“Did Muriel find an injury?” he asked.

“I’ll tell ye once we are in the study.”

He looked at her damp lashes, then adjusted his hold and guided her through the passage.

Ceana pressed the map to her side. If she attempted another sentence, the happiness inside her might escape as laughter or more tears.

Oscar opened the study door and waited until she had entered before closing it behind them.

The deed chest remained open. Their marriage contract lay inside it, her signature visible beneath his. It felt almost like yesterday when she had first entered this room to bargain for a temporary place in his household. Now she was carrying a child conceived after the bargain had become a marriage in truth.

Oscar moved in front of her. “What did Muriel say?”

Ceana crossed the space between them and took his hand. His palm was rough and cool from the lake water. “I am with child.”

He froze. The color drained from his face as his gaze dropped to her belly. He released her hand and stepped back until the edge of the desk caught him. One hand closed around the wood.

Ceana waited for him to look at her again. Her lips trembled around the smile she had carried from the surgery. She wanted him to understand, to come closer and touch the place where their child had taken root and would soon grow.

“Ceana, did ye lie to me?”

Her smile vanished.

What?

Ceana stepped away and covered her belly with one hand. Oscar released the desk and reached for her, though his arm stopped before his fingers crossed the space between them. His face tightened.

“Ceana, I…” His gaze returned to her belly. “How can Muriel be certain? Ye told me this couldnae happen.”

“I told ye what I believed. Ye heard the truth as I kent it.” She kept her voice level, though her fingernails pressed into the wool of her gown. “Nay healer has ever truly proved me barren, but I never had reason to ask them to. Muriel challenged what all of us had accepted.”

“Muriel may be mistaken.” Oscar gripped the desk again. “It is early. Time may prove otherwise.”

“She is a healer, is she nae? She believes I’m carryin’ yer child.” Ceana raised her chin. “I believe her.”

His eyes lowered once more as the hand at his side curled into a fist.

“What?” Paisley’s wrecked voice came from the door. 

Ceana spun around. The curtain shifted aside, revealing Paisley pressed against the stone behind the slightly open door. Her face was pale, and her eyes were fixed on Oscar.

“Paisley, what are ye doin’ here?” Oscar asked, the shock plain on his face. 

“Tommy came because he wanted to ken whether Ceana was well,” Paisley choked out. “I meant to take him away, but… we heard ye.”

Tommy appeared behind her, holding tightly to her sleeve.

Her mouth quivered. “Ye promised there would be nay other bairns. Ye promised we wouldnae lose Ceana.”

Tommy leaned around her. “Is the bairn goin’ to take her away?”

Ceana crossed toward them at once, extending both hands. “Come here. The bairn has done nothin’ wrong.”

“Paisley,” Oscar said, pushing off the desk.

Paisley bolted out the door before either of them could reach her. Tommy followed immediately, one hand reaching for her dress as they disappeared into the passage.

Ceana started after them, then stopped at the threshold. Oscar had halted several feet behind her. Why did the children think she was going to die?

“They think I am goin’ to die because I am with child? What in God’s name did ye tell them?”

“I was tryin’ to make Paisley feel safe.”

Ceana pointed down the empty passage. “Does she look safe now?”

Oscar’s mouth tightened again. “I never meant for either of them to hear this.”

“They heard enough.” She faced him fully, keeping her hand on her belly. “I want this bairn, Oscar. I willnae apologize for wantin’ me own child.”

“Ceana.”

“I daenae want to ruin the life ye built for Paisley and Tommy. If me pregnancy threatens that life, I will go back to Morrag. Me parents will care for me there.”

“Ye arenae leavin’.” His voice rang across the study. Before she could respond, he took one step closer and stopped. “Ye lost yer balance today. The roads are wet, and ye have Muriel here. I willnae allow ye to endanger yerself.”

“Ye cannae accuse me of deceit and then decide where I must carry me child.”

“Our child,” he corrected her.

“Then tell me ye want it, Oscar. Tell me ye want me to give birth to this child. Tell me right now, and I willnae leave.” 

His mouth opened, but no answer came. He looked toward the doorway where Paisley and Tommy had vanished, then back at her. His fingers flexed beside his thigh.

“I want ye alive.”

She could see the care beneath his roughness, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough that he had carried her through the castle in wet clothes because dizziness had frightened him. It wasn’t enough that all he wanted was her. It wasn’t enough that, if she stayed, she would be seen only as a risk to herself and her child. It wasn’t enough that she would receive such sentiments from her husband for the next seven months.

The culmination of those thoughts suddenly made the study—no, the entire castle—too small for her to breathe.

“Wantin’ me alive doesnae mean ye want our child.”

“I need time,” Oscar said. “Let me see to Paisley and Tommy. We will speak again when they are settled.”

The walls closed in on her as she moved again. “Take whatever time ye need. I will spend it at Morrag.”

His eyebrows drew low. “Ceana, ye cannae decide this while ye are upset.”

“I will leave at first light.”

She brushed past him. He reached for her arm, but she drew it away before his hand made contact. His fingers closed on empty air. It didn’t stop him from following her down the passage.

“The road to Morrag is too dangerous, considerin’ yer condition,” he reasoned. “Muriel has only just examined ye. Ye shouldnae travel before she has seen ye again.”

Ceana made for her chamber. She entered and closed the door before he could follow, then slid the bolt into place.

“Ceana.”

She pulled the traveling chest from the foot of the bed and lifted its lid. The gowns she had brought from Morrag went inside. She left the MacKane finery hanging in the wardrobe, untouched.

“Open the door,” Oscar called through the door. “We have to talk.”

Ceana gathered Daphne’s letters from the chest at the foot of the bed. The blue ribbon with its scorched edge remained folded among them. She then placed the bundle in the chest.

“Ceana,” Oscar called again. “I shouldnae have asked ye that.”

The door shifted beneath the weight of his palm. She could remember vividly how he had slammed her against it. 

No, she wouldn’t lose focus now. She wouldn’t be the reason another wave of sadness descended over MacKane. If her absence would restore that, then she would leave. 

“Ceana, please.”

She did not answer.

CHAPTER 27

Before dawn the next morning, a footman stepped through the open door, carrying Ceana’s traveling chest.

Oscar stood beside the wall where he had spent the night pacing until his legs ached and then sitting against the stone whenever the silence behind the locked door became unbearable. His clothes bore the creases of the previous day. Stubble darkened his jaw, and sleeplessness left his eyes raw.

Mairi walked past him with a basket containing oatcakes, cheese, and dried meat. A covered flask hung from one wrist. Through the passage window, he could see two stable boys harnessing the horses to the covered carriage.

Ceana was leaving because he couldn’t accept the pregnancy as fact. He couldn’t smile and agree that the child in her belly was worth more than her life. 

He no longer doubted her; that much was evident. His fear had found the cruelest words available and forced them out of his mouth before his sense could stop them.

The fear remained. If he let himself look beyond the coming months, all he could see was blood and Ceana’s lifeless body.

The footman turned toward the stairs, leaving the door open.

Oscar glanced into the chamber. The pale dawn light lay across the bed. A green hair ribbon was wound around the carved post where Ceana usually slept. He sighed at the sight. She had left it with the gowns and the other things he had bought her after their marriage.

He was still staring at it when she emerged wearing one of the traveling gowns she had brought from Morrag, a plain cloak fastened over it. Her hair had been drawn into a tight braid. She looked toward the stairs, then at Mairi and the servants waiting below, deliberately ignoring him.

“Ceana, give me a moment.”

She stopped at the landing. “I already did, me Laird. There is nothin’ else ye could say to me.”

The formal address struck deeper than her anger could have.

Oscar crossed only half the distance between them, leaving enough space for her to refuse him without retreating. “I was wrong. I ken ye believed every word ye told me. Ye didnae lie.”

Ceana looked up at his face, though her eyes settled on his cheek. “Yer belief came after ye made our child sound like a death sentence; that is the problem.”

“I was afraid.” His throat tightened around everything he could not say. “Give me time.”

“This is me givin’ ye time, me Laird.”

She descended before he could speak again.

For a minute, all he could do was stand still. Then he found his footing and followed her.

Muriel waited in the courtyard, and he watched as she embraced Ceana and pressed a small packet of dried mint into her hand. “For the road, should yer stomach trouble ye. Write when ye arrive.”

“I will.”

While Mairi showed Ceana where she had placed the provisions, Muriel stepped up to Oscar. 

“Ye cannae help me stop her? She doesnae have to leave.” 

She kept her voice low. “Ye took away her choice once when ye married her, Braither. Daenae do it again.”

His attention remained on Ceana. He remembered vividly how he had once sent men to seize her beneath a borrowed mask and carried her through these gates because he had decided to keep her. Muriel’s warning required no answer.

He was still staring when Paisley approached Ceana with her hands clasped before her. “Was it the promise about other bairns? Is that why ye are leavin’?”

Ceana bent until their faces were level. “Ye made nay cruel accusation, Paisley. Ye caused none of this.”

“I made Da promise.”

“And I love ye. I love Tommy too. Nothin’ either of ye said has changed that.”

Paisley swallowed. “Will ye come back?”

“I daenae ken yet.” Ceana reached for her hand. “But until then, I will answer every letter ye and Tommy send me.”

Tommy rushed forward and clutched the edge of her cloak. “I willnae hide another ring. I willnae lock another door or play another trick, I promise.”

“The treasure hunt didnae send me away.” Ceana rested her hand on the back of his head. “Yer map is safe inside me chest.”

He kept hold of her until she kissed his hair. Only then did his grip loosen.

Ness head-butted her dress as she approached the carriage and planted one hoof on the step. Ceana stroked the goat between the horns before Tommy gently drew her back.

“Ye must stay with me,” he whispered.

Oscar stepped up to the carriage and offered her his hand. Her eyes settled on his for a second. Then Lennan offered his hand from the other side, and she took it to climb inside.

Oscar lowered his empty hand. “Lennan and four guards will accompany ye,” he said. “Yer faither will receive a sealed message from me.”

“Four men are unnecessary.”

“The roads remain uncertain after Bryce’s defeat. The escort stays.”

Ceana settled against the cushions without answering.

Lennan waited until the door had closed before speaking quietly. “Do ye want men stationed beyond Morrag? They could continue sendin’ reports.”

“Nay. Report while she travels. Once she is safely inside her faither’s gates, all of ye return. Nay MacKane man remains to watch her.”

The gatekeeper stood beside the lever, waiting for Oscar’s command. One sentence could close the gates and keep Ceana within reach. His command would be obeyed before the horses advanced another step.

No, he wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t. He had first brought her to MacKane after ordering her seized and carried away. If he prevented her departure now, then marriage had changed nothing about his need to control her choices.

“Open the gates,” he called.

The gates rose, and Ceana’s carriage passed beneath them with Lennan and the mounted guards. 

Oscar kept his eyes on them until the pines swallowed the final rider. 

By the second afternoon, every bump in the final road to Morrag drove an ache across Ceana’s lower back. She had managed half an oatcake that morning and a bit of cheese at midday, enough to settle her stomach without irritating it. Beneath her cloak, one hand remained on her belly.

The memory of the cold loch water returned to her first, followed by Oscar’s mouth against hers. She remembered his fingers locking around hers on their wedding night. It was strange, just how vivid these things were.

Fortunately, Morrag’s gates soon came into view beyond the trees.

The carriage had not fully stopped when Heather hurried down the steps with David close behind her. Both glanced at the MacKane riders and searched the carriage after Ceana descended alone.

Heather reached her first. “Look at me, lass.” Her hands moved over Ceana’s face, then caught Ceana’s gloved fingers and turned them over. “Are ye hurt?”

“Have Oscar or the children been harmed?” David asked.

“Everyone lives. I need to come inside.”

They took her to the drawing room without pressing for more. Heather removed Ceana’s cloak and ordered broth, bread, and warm water. David remained beside the fireplace until Ceana had swallowed several mouthfuls.

Lennan stayed long enough to place Oscar’s sealed letter in David’s hand. “For ye alone, Laird Morrag.”

David set it beside his chair without opening it. Lennan bowed and withdrew.

“Has Daphne written?” Ceana asked.

Heather brought a folded sheet from the small chest near the window. Ceana recognized her sister’s hand before the page reached her.

“She is safe,” Heather assured her. “She has chosen where she wishes to live, but she will give us nay detail.”

Ceana pressed the page to her lips and drew her first full breath since leaving MacKane Castle. Daphne was alive and free. She had chosen to keep even her from knowing where she was.

“Angus is Laird Gilmore now,” David said. “He has signed a peace treaty. Bryce’s raids are over, and his men have withdrawn.”

“I see,” Ceana said.

His gaze lowered to the letter at his side. “Fear of Bryce led me to arrange Daphne’s marriage. When Oscar took ye, I considered the alliance before I asked what ye wanted. I willnae ask ye to forgive me.”

Heather set her cup down. “Why have ye come here without yer husband?”

Ceana placed a hand on her belly. “I am with child.”

Heather paused, her fingers still curled around the cup, and David’s hand tightened on the back of his chair.

Then Heather crossed the room and pulled Ceana into her arms. “Oh, me darlin’! Congratulations! Are ye well? Has Muriel examined ye?”

“She did yesterday.”

David came around the chair. He waited until Heather released her, and then wrapped both arms around her and kissed her brow.

“Me daughter,” he said, his voice rough. “And me grandchild. Ye will both have everythin’ we can give ye.”

Ceana laughed through her tears. “Perhaps the midwife counted wrong, and Daphne was born second.”

Heather cupped her damp cheeks. “I never believed fertility followed the order of yer birth.”

Ceana caught her mother’s wrists. “Then why did ye let me believe it?”

Heather’s hands went still. “The older women repeated the tale until everyone treated it as fact. I feared givin’ ye hope I couldnae guarantee. When yer courses came irregularly, I refused to say anythin’ in case… well, in case ye never conceived.”

A bitter laugh escaped Ceana’s lips. “Ye watched me plan me whole life around it, Maither.”

“Aye,” Heather uttered, her eyes filling with tears. “I should have challenged them. I should have taken yer fear seriously.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I failed ye, Ceana. I watched ye shape yer life around it, and I said too little.”

Ceana bent into her mother’s shoulder. She had expected years of returning alone to her chamber while Daphne received every offer worth considering. She had entered Oscar’s study and offered him a childless bargain because she believed motherhood belonged to other women.

Her tears soaked into her mother’s gown as she held her.

David stood near them with one hand over his mouth. “I treated both me daughters as answers to the men I feared. Daphne could quiet Bryce through marriage, and ye could secure MacKane. I am yer faither first, but I behave as yer Laird.”

Ceana wiped her face, sniffling. “Oscar doesnae want the bairn. That is why he didnae come with me. He thinks I might die like his first wife.”

David’s jaw hardened. His hand clenched at his side before he opened it. “Do ye want me to write to him or summon him here?”

Ceana blinked. “What? Nay, I willnae have me faither force me husband toward me.”

Heather stroked her braid. “Oscar buried his first wife after childbirth. I suppose the thought of buryin’ ye as well scares him. The only way through this is for him to face what he has done before he can come around.”

“I already want this child, Maither. I did from the moment Muriel told me I’m pregnant.”

“Then this child is wanted here.”

Heather called for more plain food and sent word that a trusted healer was to attend to Ceana the following morning.

Once Ceana had eaten again, her mother insisted on rest. She walked to her old chamber alone. Once there, she removed her gloves and laid both hands on her still-flat belly. She could feel no movement yet. But all that mattered was that the child was there.

“Ye will be loved, little one. I have chosen to love ye,” she whispered.

She stepped toward the window, feeling the light evening breeze caress her face. 

“Now, yer faither must make his own choice.”

CHAPTER 28

Oscar read the same line for the third time without retaining its meaning.

A blanket lay poorly folded on the study floor, where he had slept every night for a month. The whisky beside his elbow had stood unfinished since the previous evening. He pushed it aside.

The thud of boots and the swish of skirts sounded in the passage. Doors opened and closed, but no laughter followed.

“Who last touched me keys?” Mairi called from somewhere below.

A young guard entered with the morning watch report. Lennan hovered near the door while the man recited the posts and changes, then lost his place over the name of the sentry assigned to the northern wall.

“Ye daenae ken which man held the post?” Oscar asked.

“I ken him, me Laird. The roster has his name as…” The guard searched the sheet.

“A nameless sentry is unaccounted for. If ye cannae report yer watch properly, ye have failed it.”

The guard’s shoulders tensed. When Oscar demanded the name of the man who had relieved him, his gaze shifted toward Lennan before he answered.

Mairi appeared in the doorway. “Me key ring has been gone since dawn, me Laird, and the pantry and grain stores are locked. Tommy was seen near the hooks before breakfast. Now, two village women are waiting for their grain, but I cannae help them if stores remain locked.”

Oscar rose at once. He found Paisley outside the schoolroom with the heavy ring clasped against her chest. He didn’t need to ask anything for him to know that this was one of his son’s pranks that had grown even more rampant the past month. 

“I found them, Faither.” Paisley’s lesson book lay on the window seat. “I should have stopped him sooner.”

“Tommy chose to take them. That was his decision.” His sharp tone made her draw the keys closer. “Return to yer lesson.”

Inside the schoolroom, Tommy sat at the table with the small blue stone clenched in his fist.

“Did ye take Mairi’s keys?” Oscar asked.

“Aye,” Tommy responded, keeping his eyes on the stone.

“Why?”

His thumb rubbed the faded mark. “Nobody would follow a treasure hunt unless the missin’ thing mattered. Keys matter.”

“For one week, ye will remain in the nursery,” Oscar decided. “Ye will take yer meals there. Ness stays in the stable yard, and ye will miss both trainin’ and games.”

At the goat’s name, Tommy’s grip loosened. “Are ye sendin’ Ness away too?”

“Nay.”

“Ceana took the map with her,” he said and looked down at the stone. “This was all I kept.”

The map lay inside Ceana’s traveling chest at Morrag. Tommy had saved the final piece from their last hunt, then organized another game that forced the household to join him.

His antics warranted punishment. A week cut off from supper and the goat would teach him that more comforts could be withheld.

“Paisley, give him the keys,” Oscar ordered.

Paisley placed the ring in Tommy’s hand.

“Ye will return those to Mairi and apologize. Then ye will help restore every task ye delayed. Games and ridin’ resume when Mairi says the work is finished. Do ye understand me?”

Tommy slid down from the chair. “Aye, Faither.” He carried the keys into the passage.

“I will help him,” Paisley said. She picked up her lesson book and held it against her waist.

“Ye will go back to yer lesson,” Mairi countered.

Paisley squared her narrow shoulders. “Someone must see that the stores open in the proper order and that the village women receive their grain.”

“I will see to it,” Mairi said. “Yer work is waitin’ for ye.”

After both children had gone, she rounded on Oscar. “We can manage the lad’s tricks, but we cannae manage a laird whose answer changes with his temper, me Laird. The servants are beginnin’ to fear ye again.”

The young guard’s tight face flashed before him. “That cannae be true.”

“The kitchen maids send every report through me, and half yer guards wait for Lennan to speak first.” Mairi lifted the papers tucked beneath her arm. “We are still usin’ this because the work proceeds cleanly.”

Ceana’s handwriting covered the household schedule, assigning petition hours and provisions alongside linen work and village requests. A new request for seed sat beneath Thursday’s duties, but its margin remained blank. Ceana would have added a quantity and the responsible servant’s name before she left the hall.

Mairi tucked the schedule beneath her arm and walked to the grain store.

Lennan found Oscar a while later in the passage. “Border patrol confirmed the peace treaty is holdin’, and all stock named in the agreement has been returned. Also, Angus’s guards have withdrawn from the crossin’, and travelers passed safely this mornin’. Our men verified each report.”

The report required Oscar’s seal. Increasing patrols would serve no purpose other than giving him another order to issue.

“Bring the mornin’ guard back to me.”

The young man returned several minutes later and stood at attention.

“I accused ye of failin’ the watch over a missin’ name,” Oscar began. “The watch was sound. I was wrong.”

“Aye, me Laird.” The guard’s shoulders remained stiff as he bowed and left.

Later that afternoon, Muriel came to the study carrying an open letter. Oscar recognized Ceana’s handwriting on the outer leaf as soon as he saw it. 

“Is she safe?” he asked. “How is her pregnancy progressin’?”

“She is keepin’ more food down and resting. The healer attendin’ her sees no cause for concern at present. That is all anyone can promise.” Muriel refolded the page. “She asked after the children.”

Oscar watched as she tucked the letter in her pocket.

“The rest are just comments from the healer.”

Oscar pressed his palm against the desk. “Perhaps carryin’ the bairn frightened her. She may have judged MacKane unsafe.”

“Ceana didnae leave because she carries yer bairn, Braither.” Muriel walked out with the letter before he could speak again. 

Oscar exhaled and walked to the chamber he and Ceana had shared for a while. A gust of fresh air drifted in through the open shutters. The fireplace had been swept, and the bed remained unused because when he laid his hand on the linen, only cold met his palm. 

Only a faint trace of Ceana’s scent remained on the pillow.

He remembered her writhing beneath him on their wedding night, their fingers intertwined as he thrust into her. As he planted his seed inside her. He also remembered her asleep beneath the blanket, with Paisley against her side and Tommy sprawled across her legs.

He left before he could reach for the green ribbon she had left behind. It was one of the few things she had left behind in her room before she left, and he had brought it to his. Back in the study, he drew a clean sheet toward him and wrote, Wife, come home. 

His hand stopped. Even alone, he had begun by telling her what to do.

He fed the page to the fireplace and began again. The second letter told her of the blood he saw whenever he thought of childbirth. It described what losing her would do to him.

He read it back. Six sentences began with I. 

Good God, ye arenae really good at this.

All he did was give her another account of himself. He didn’t think for long after that before he tore the sheet and threw it into the fire. A third page lay before him, and he set the quill right beside it. The page remained blank.

After supper, two candles and the low fire provided enough light for him to stare at the blank sheet before him. A knock sounded at the door.

“May I enter, Faither?”

Oscar straightened. Paisley seldom waited for permission at this hour, and her careful words concerned him more than an interruption would have.

“Aye, come in.”

She opened the door but did not step inside. Her night rail showed beneath her robe, and her loose hair fell over one shoulder. She kept both hands clasped before her.

“Why are ye still awake?” he asked.

“I have been thinkin’ about the promise I asked ye to make before ye married Ceana.”

Oscar rose from the desk. When Paisley still did not approach, he rounded his desk and lowered himself so she no longer had to speak to him across a broad stretch of oak.

“I daenae think Ceana would have let us go,” she said. “I shouldnae have made ye promise that there wouldnae be other bairns.”

“Come here, lass.”

She crossed the study slowly and stopped within his reach. Oscar took her cold hand between both of his.

“Ceana didnae leave because of ye.”

“I asked for the promise.”

“Ye were frightened. The promise was mine to make, and the harm was mine to cause.”

Paisley studied their joined hands. “I thought if she had a baby of her own, she would love it more and send Tommy and me away.”

Oscar squeezed her hand. “Ceana loves ye both. She has shown ye that often enough.”

“I ken that now.”

“She protected yer place in this family from the day she joined it. The bairn wouldnae change what ye are to her.”

Paisley looked toward the empty chair near the fire. “Will she come back?”

“I daenae ken.”

Her fingers shifted within his. Oscar could have offered reassurance. A promise from him would give Paisley comfort for the night, yet Ceana’s future no longer belonged among the things he could pledge.

“I willnae answer for her,” he said. “That choice belongs to her.”

Paisley’s eyebrows drew together. “Why did ye want her to leave?”

Oscar exhaled. “I never wanted her to leave.”

“Then what are ye afraid of?”

He looked down at his daughter. She had already taken his wrongdoing upon herself because he had hidden the cause behind orders and anger. Protecting her from the truth had left her to invent one that condemned her.

“I am afraid somethin’ will happen to her,” he admitted. “I am afraid we will lose her now that we have found her.”

Paisley did not move.

“I have seen childbirth end in death,” he continued. “When Muriel told us about the bairn, I saw that danger before I saw Ceana’s joy. I let me fear govern what I said to her.”

Her gaze moved to the blanket on the floor. “But Faither, I think we have already lost her.”

Oscar closed one hand around the edge of the chair beside him until the wood creaked. “Ye may be right.”

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Tommy entered with a folded notice held above his head. His sleeves were still rolled up from helping Mairi, and flour marked one cuff.

“Mairi says every sack has been given out, the linen is stored, and I have finished me work.”

“That is good to hear,” Oscar said.

“I found this beneath a pile of papers.” Tommy walked over to him and opened the notice across his knee. “The fire festival is next week.”

Paisley came closer to read it. “What can the festival change?”

“Ceana promised the village women she would attend.” Tommy tapped the notice. “Lady MacKane must judge the jumps.”

The thought sparked hope in Oscar’s chest. The fire festival gave him a place where Ceana would stand among people she trusted. Her parents could accompany her, and the villagers would surround her. She could hear him without setting foot in the castle or meeting him alone.

Alas, she could also refuse him and depart under her father’s protection.

He would wait until she had finished her duty before requesting a word.

The thought of making even the slightest thing about himself troubled him more than he had expected. If she granted him permission, he would tell her that he wanted their child. He would tell her that he believed her. He would admit that the accusation had been his failure, not hers, and that fear had made him wound her when she had trusted him with something precious. If Ceana chose to remain at Morrag, he would accept it. He had taken enough choices from her already.

“If Ceana attends, ye may both greet her,” he said. “Ye willnae ask her to return for yer sake.”

Tommy’s smile faded. “Why?”

“Because I drove her away. I will speak for meself, and she may give whatever answer she chooses.”

The children could offer Ceana their affection, but for now, they would carry none of his argument. That was the most important one.

“She promised,” Tommy said. “Ceana keeps her promises.”

Oscar exhaled as low as he could. “Aye. We will go.” He looked from Tommy to Paisley. “And this time, I will ask.”

CHAPTER 29

The drummer changed rhythm as Ceana crossed the wet festival ground beside Heather and David. A boy collecting wagers raced past them, splashing mud over the hem of his plaid.

“Two to one on the smith! Three to one on the shepherd!”

Smoke blew low from the fire trench and caught in her throat. She stopped to cough and rested one hand on her waist until the discomfort passed. Her gown concealed her belly. Heather had loosened the lacing before they left Morrag, giving her room to breathe without showing enough to invite questions.

A MacKane tapestry hung at the field entrance. Fresh stitches closed a tear through the border mark.

“That is the one Bryce’s men cut down,” David commented. “Angus returned it with the stolen stock under the peace treaty.”

Ceana brushed her fingers over it before passing beneath it.

“Lady MacKane!”

The first greeting came from a woman carrying cups of ale. Others called their welcome as Ceana crossed the field. Men lifted their cups, and families stepped aside to clear the way. She accepted each greeting without correcting the title. After a little over a month at Morrag, the people here still counted her among them.

Elspeth Kerr reached her before she could linger, her face breaking into a broad smile.

“Ye came.”

“I said I would.”

“Aye, but promises become easier to forget when they require a journey.” Elspeth caught both of Ceana’s hands and squeezed them. “It is good to see ye again, me Lady. We wondered whether Morrag meant to keep ye.”

Ceana managed a smile. “Only for a little while.”

“Then they have had their turn.” Elspeth released one hand but kept the other, already drawing her farther onto the field. “Come. Ye have duties here, and I have spent three months tellin’ everyone our new Lady wouldnae abandon us when it came time to judge their foolishness.”

Ceana laughed despite herself. “Then I had better save yer reputation.”

“Precisely.”

As they walked, Ceana spotted the young mother who had spoken so cheerfully of the children she might have one day. The woman smiled in recognition and dipped her head as they passed.

Elspeth led Ceana toward the judges’ ground. “We kept yer place.”

Two older village women waited beside the chief judge’s chair, and Ceana remained standing while the rules were laid out.

“Every jumper starts from that stone,” the first woman said. “The trench remains the same width. An equally sized bundle of heather is added after each round.”

The second judge pointed toward the marked strip beyond the fire. “Touchin’ either fire stone spoils the jump, so does scatterin’ anythin’ aflame or landin’ inside that strip. The highest round cleared cleanly wins.”

“And when Lady MacKane presides,” Elspeth added, “the Laird enters for the closing leap. His jump counts the same as any other.”

Ceana walked the length of the trench before taking her chair. The early morning rain had left the turf slick beside the starting stone. She tested it beneath her shoe, then summoned an attendant.

“Spread grit here before the first man runs. Enough for every contestant to have firm ground.”

The attendants worked while the judges inspected each bundle of heather. Only when the ground was ready did Ceana sit down and look across the field.

Oscar stood beyond the fire with Lennan. Paisley and Tommy were absent. She saw no sign of Mairi or Muriel either. She swept her gaze across the people behind Oscar once before fixing it on him.

He had worn no ceremonial finery. His plaid was fastened at the shoulder, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his forearms. A month apart had sharpened her awareness of his height and the strength of his hands.

Her next breath caught midway into her lungs.

Those hands had hauled her out of the loch. They had held her firmly beside the water while his mouth took hers. They had also closed around her fingers in their bed while the two of them conceived the child in her belly.

Ceana curled her fingers into her skirt.

Oscar caught her looking. His gaze moved over her face, then lowered to the altered waist of her gown and the hand resting near it. He went still as his grip tightened on the edge of his plaid.

The first jumper cleared the trench cleanly, eliciting a roar from the crowd. The wager boy darted between groups, shouting new odds as another bundle was added.

During the next round, a favored contestant rose above the flames and came down beyond the marked strip. His heel struck the right boundary stone before he regained his balance.

“He cleared it!” one supporter shouted.

“The height is what matters!”

Ceana looked toward the two women beside her. “What did ye see?”

“His heel caught on the stone,” the first woman answered.

The second woman pointed to the scrape left on the stone’s wet surface. “There, me Lady.”

“The jump is invalid,” Ceana announced.

A few men protested until Elspeth stepped forward.

“Correct the wagers,” she ordered. “A favorite doesnae get a wider trench than the others.”

The grumbling ended as the attendants carried the final bundle forward. The daylight had begun to fade, and the flames glowed brighter against the darkening field.

The last contestant cleared the stones, but both feet came down inside the marked strip. He stared at the ground, then stepped away before the judges spoke.

Elspeth raised her staff. “Laird MacKane for the closin’ leap.”

Lennan unfastened Oscar’s plaid and took it away. Oscar approached the starting stone without looking at Ceana. He measured the distance, braced his weight on his right foot, then sprang forward.

His pace was steady until the final drive of his legs lifted him above the trench. The flames shone beneath him, and he landed beyond the marked strip with one foot before the other, his weight balanced as he straightened.

Only then did he look toward Ceana.

She left her chair and inspected both fire stones. Neither bore a fresh mark. The landing strip remained undisturbed. When she returned to the judges, both women gave the same ruling.

She faced the crowd. “The highest clean leap belongs to Laird MacKane.”

The cheers followed Oscar to the judges’ ground. Ceana took the winner’s red wool cord from Elspeth and held it out. Oscar’s fingers brushed hers as he accepted it, the brief contact sending heat across her palm.

“Me thanks, Lady MacKane,” he said.

“Ye earned it, me Laird.”

His eyes remained on her face. “When ye finish yer duty, will ye speak with me?”

Ceana considered the request for a moment. “After I hand out the rest of the prizes.”

Oscar stepped away and waited beyond the judges’ ground.

Ceana awarded each remaining cord and confirmed the corrected wagers.

Lennan placed Oscar’s plaid on the low wall before withdrawing to the wager table.

Oscar stood, his hands hanging at his sides. He did not move as Ceana crossed the wet grass toward him. She stopped beside the low wall, beyond his reach.

The drums continued near the fire trench, and voices rose as the wager boy counted out winnings.

Oscar rested one hand on the wall. “How have ye been, Ceana?”

Her fingers tightened around her dress. A month had passed since he had spoken her name, and the quiet familiarity of it hit deeper than she had ever thought it would.

“I have been well enough. The sickness is improvin’.”

His gaze moved over her face. “And the bairn?”

Ceana placed her hand on her belly. She was still too early in her pregnancy to feel anything, but touching it gave her courage.

“Well, they’re growin’.”

Oscar’s eyes closed briefly. His hand dropped from the wall as he let out a slow breath through his nose. When he looked at her again, the strain around his mouth had deepened.

“Thank ye for answerin’.”

He remained where he was while more cheers erupted from the judges’ ground. His relief had earned him no promise, and he seemed to understand that.

“I accused ye of lyin’ when ye brought me the happiest news of yer life,” he rasped.

The memory returned vividly. She could see his hard stare across the study and how his question had stripped the joy from her before she had finished sharing it.

“Aye, ye did.”

Oscar lowered his gaze to the damp grass between them. “I ken what ye believed about bearin’ children,” he continued. “I had watched ye grieve the bairns ye thought ye could never have. Then I asked whether ye had deceived me.”

Ceana brushed her thumb over her skirt. “And what do ye call that now?”

His eyes met hers. “I was wrong.”

The plain answer held her still.

“I answered out of fear,” he said. “And I shouldnae have done that.”

He did not plead for forgiveness. Every fault remained where he had placed it—upon himself.

For the first time, he wasn’t thinking solely about himself. 

Ceana glanced toward the fire trench. An attendant was spreading the embers while villagers gathered their children and collected empty cups.

“What do ye see now when ye think of this child?” she asked.

“MacKane already has an heir. This bairn is ours, and wanted because it is ours.” Oscar’s throat bobbed before he continued. “Havin’ a bairn with ye is the best thing that could have happened to me.”

Ceana sucked in a sharp breath. “Are ye still afraid?”

“Aye.” His answer came quietly. “I am afraid for ye. That fear hasnae gone.”

At least he was being honest. His fear would grow tenfold when her body began to change, when the birth drew close, and perhaps whenever she crossed a room too quickly for his liking.

“Do ye truly believe I didnae trick ye?”

“Aye,” Oscar answered before she could draw another breath. “I ken ye believed every word ye told me. Ye would never deceive me in such a way.”

Ceana searched his face. His gaze held hers, and his shoulders remained lowered rather than set for command.

“I kent ye better than the question I asked,” he said.

The drums changed rhythm again.

He gave her time to consider his answer, his open hands, and the space he had maintained between them. Then he took a step forward and asked the question that had been on his mind since the day had begun.

“Will ye come home, Ceana?”

Ceana swallowed thickly.

Home.

Paisley sat within that word, frowning over one of her careful questions. Tommy’s treasure map lay open beneath his small hands. Ceana remembered Mairi bent over the household ledgers at her worktable and Ness waiting on the carriage step as though the goat could prevent a departure through sheer stubbornness alone.

The chamber she had shared with Oscar belonged there too. So did the empty hand she had ignored before leaving MacKane Castle, and the accusation that had driven her away.

Her fingers twitched against her belly.

“If I come home, the hurt comes with me,” she warned. “It hasnae disappeared.”

“I understand.”

“If I return, I return with our bairn. I willnae step into that castle and watch our child be received as a disaster.”

“Our bairn is very much wanted at the castle.”

“An apology cannae supply all the proof I need.” Ceana watched his expression as she continued. “What ye do after tonight will tell me whether I can trust ye when fear takes hold again or nae.”

Oscar accepted the condition with a quick nod. “Aye. Ye should judge me by what I do.”

He raised his hand to her face, then stopped halfway.

“May I?”

Ceana looked at the space between them. She had already received the answers she needed before she crossed it. So the only thing to do was to step within his reach.

Oscar’s gaze flicked to her mouth. His jaw tightened, and his breath deepened as his hand dropped back to his side. He leaned toward her, every inch of him aching to touch her. Then his lips pressed against her forehead.

The brief contact caught her breath high in her chest, and her fingers curled as a low pulse began between her thighs. One month without him had sharpened her need, but now wasn’t the time to do anything about it.

Eventually, Oscar stepped back. Then he held out his hand, palm up. Ceana took it, and his fingers closed only after hers had settled in his palm.

“Aye,” she said, her voice low. “I will come home.”

CHAPTER 30

Oscar rapped twice against the carriage ceiling.

“Stop here.”

Ceana looked out the window, expecting to find a broken wheel or a rider approaching with news.

Lennan had already raised one hand to halt the escort. The men spread out along the road, far enough from the carriage to give them privacy.

“What has happened?” Ceana asked.

“Nothin’. We have traveled long enough without rest.”

“We stopped less than an hour ago.”

Oscar opened the door. “Then ye shouldnae need long before we continue.”

The carriage had the best springs available, though the slower pace scarcely tested them. Thick blankets covered the seat beneath Ceana, and cushions protected her back from every jolt. A cup of water stood within reach beside small parcels of food Oscar had ordered packed before they left the festival.

He examined the remaining parcels. “What can ye tolerate? Oatcake or dried apple?”

“Dried apple.”

Oscar passed it to her without pressuring her to take more. Since their departure, he had watched her face whenever the wheels struck uneven ground. His attention followed each change in her breathing and every movement of her hands. Their knees brushed often, though he had made no attempt to kiss her.

He stepped down and offered her his hand. Ceana could have managed the low step alone, but she placed her fingers in his because she wanted to feel his skin against hers.

His other hand closed around her waist as she descended. Once her feet touched the ground, he kept her there for one breath, his hand tight beneath her palm. Then he released her.

“Are ye dizzy?”

“I am well.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Do ye doubt me?” she asked.

“I am just makin’ sure.”

Ceana turned the strip of dried apple between her fingers. “Ye have spent half the day lookin’ at me as though ye expect some change.”

His gaze moved to her mouth before returning to her eyes.

A trace of teasing entered her voice, though the question beneath it had been niggling at her since they left the festival. “Do ye still want me?”

“I do,” he said without hesitation. “But I willnae mistake yer return for permission.”

Heat curled low in her belly. He stood near enough for her to see the strain in his jaw, yet he made no move to reclaim her waist.

She turned and started walking to stretch her legs. Oscar matched her pace without guiding her, while Lennan kept the escort turned toward the surrounding hills.

They reached a border inn after dusk. Oscar secured adjacent chambers before they shared a hot meal beside the fire. When Ceana retired, he stopped outside her door and bade her good night.

On the second afternoon, MacKane Castle came into view through the carriage window. Ceana recognized the gate tower first, then the upper windows and the wall beside the training yard. Wisps of smoke rose from the kitchen chimney in a familiar gray column. She leaned closer to the glass until Oscar’s shoulder brushed hers. 

Tommy ran into the courtyard before the carriage had stopped. “Ceana!”

Paisley followed at a more careful pace.

Oscar descended first. “Slow down, both of ye.”

Ceana took his hand and stepped down, then opened her arms. Tommy reached her first. He hugged her tight for one impulsive second before remembering her condition and pulling away. She caught him by the shoulders and drew him close again.

“Ye may hug me, Tommy.”

Paisley waited beside them until Ceana reached for her. The girl’s arms rested carefully around Ceana’s waist, leaving a space between their bodies. Ceana drew her nearer and kissed her hair.

A low bleat sounded near the stables. Ness escaped the groom holding her and raced around the three of them. She caught the edge of Ceana’s cloak between her teeth and tugged until Ceana laughed.

Oscar remained beside her with one hand hovering near her back, ready to steady her. He allowed the children to keep their arms around her.

Before the waiting servants could surround them, Ceana led Paisley and Tommy to the stone bench beside the entrance.

“Are ye stayin’?” Tommy asked.

“Aye. I chose to come home.” She took his hand and Paisley’s. “And I am back, so ye nay longer need to worry.”

Paisley looked down at Ceana’s belly. “Ye look great, Ceana.”

Ceana opened her mouth to respond, but Tommy interrupted her. “Will the baby take me place in yer bed during family hours?” 

Ceana squeezed his fingers. “There is room for all three of ye. The bairn will have a place beside yers.”

Muriel embraced her once they rose, then drew back to inspect Ceana’s color. “Ye have borne the journey well. Rest before supper.”

The servants smiled as they examined Ceana’s face. A maid hurried toward the kitchen with news that Lady MacKane had arrived, and another went upstairs to reopen her chamber.

Oscar led Ceana into the former morning room beside the Great Hall. A desk stood near the fireplace, with a cushioned chair and footstool arranged behind it.

“Ye may resume yer duties after ye have rested,” Oscar said.

“I will begin with the cottages tomorrow mornin’.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of it.

At the main staircase, Ceana placed one foot on the first step. Oscar moved in front of her.

“Two days of travel have tired ye.”

“The carriage hasnae taken the use of me legs.”

He lifted her into his arms before she could take another step. Tommy laughed behind them, and Mairi hid a smile with her hand.

Ceana wound an arm around his neck. With every step, her breasts brushed his chest. His hand splayed across her back, holding her firmly enough to stir every place that had gone a month without his touch.

“I can climb an ordinary staircase,” she insisted.

“This is an exception.”

“Ask before ye carry me again.”

“Next time, I will ask.”

Oscar carried her into their chamber and set her carefully on her feet. The bed had been aired and prepared. Fresh bedding also covered the small sofa near the hearth. Much later that night, Ceana watched him unfold a blanket there.

“Do ye intend to sleep on that?”

“Aye. Daenae worry, I daenae intend to share the bed with ye.”

Ceana let the matter rest that night and climbed into bed alone. When she looked across the chamber again, Oscar’s eyes were open, and his hand was curled on his stomach. Less than two paces separated him from the bed, and yet he did not cross them.

By the third morning, she had the petitions from the cottages open beside the household ledgers.

Mairi stood across from the desk, one finger resting on the figures. “The timber set aside will mend both roofs,” she said. “The steward intended it for new panelin’ in the west guest chamber.”

“That chamber has stood unused for six years.”

“Aye, me Lady.”

Ceana checked the measurements again. Enough seasoned timber remained for both cottages if the decorative work waited.

“Release it to the tenants,” she ordered, dipping her quill. “The roofs must be repaired before the next rain.”

The door opened before she could sign the instruction, and a maid entered carrying a tray, with Oscar close behind her. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. He had spent two nights on the floor, watching her whenever she stirred in bed.

“How long have ye been workin’?” he asked.

“Since after the mornin’ meal.”

“So, nearly two hours.”

Ceana looked up. “Ye were in the trainin’ yard when I came here.”

His gaze shifted to the tray. “Ye left most of yer breakfast.”

“How do ye ken that?”

The maid’s hands tightened around the wooden handles.

“She did as I instructed,” Oscar said. “Ye have done nothin’ wrong, Alura. Set it there.”

The maid obeyed and then withdrew quickly.

Ceana laid down her quill. “Ye ordered the servants to report what I eat?”

“I asked to be told if ye were sick, tired, or unable to finish a meal.”

“And what? Asking me personally wasnae an option?” 

“Ye would say ye were well so ye could continue workin’.”

He trusted reports gathered around her more than the answers she might give him. Ceana didn’t yet know whether she should feel offended. 

Mairi drew the petition nearer. “Shall I have the timber released, me Lady?”

Ceana signed her name and pressed the paper into Mairi’s hand. “Aye. Both roofs. The guest chamber can wait.”

“I will send the order now.”

Mairi left with the signed instructions before Oscar could close the matter for the day. He shut the ledger and placed the tray in front of Ceana. The smell of roasted mutton reached her first, and her stomach lurched.

“Oh, wow, I cannae eat that.”

Oscar removed the plate at once. “The oat bread?”

“That will stay down.”

He broke a small piece and held it toward her. Ceana accepted it from his fingers. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, and his breath hitched. For one heated instant, she saw the man who had held her in their bed.

His gaze remained on her lips until he pulled his hand away.

“Finish what ye can,” he urged.

Ceana studied him. It was clear that his tenderness had become another method of measuring her. A part of her hoped it wouldn’t turn into a means of control as well. 

“Will every servant tell ye when I eat, sleep, walk, or open a ledger?”

“They will tell me if ye tire or become ill.”

Ceana cocked her head. “I like to think me weariness belongs to me to report.”

“I will take nay chances.”

Muriel entered, carrying a cup of mint tea. Her gaze flicked from the closed ledger to the tray. “Ye already finished yer work, Ceana?”

“She has done enough,” Oscar said.

“Pregnancy isnae an illness, Oscar.” Muriel set the cup beside Ceana. “She needs movement and useful occupation. Let her eat what she can tolerate and sleep when she is tired. I cannae promise how every month will pass. At present, I see nay cause to confine her.”

“She was dizzy. She could scarcely keep food down, and she lost weight.”

“Those symptoms have improved.”

Oscar considered. “Two hours of work each mornin’. She may walk in the lower garden with someone beside her. The stairs remain forbidden.”

Ceana pushed the tray away. “Muriel advised ye. She didnae grant ye the right to ration me life.”

“I am carin’ for me wife and bairn.”

Muriel picked up the abandoned mutton plate. “Those restrictions are yer choice, Braither. Ye willnae claim that me judgment supports them.”

By the final evening of the week, the servants looked toward Oscar before answering even the simplest request.

Family hour had also been moved into Ceana’s workroom. Tommy had arranged wooden soldiers in a wide circle around her chair, and Ness stood beyond the boundary with a strip of cloth tied loosely around her neck.

“What is this?” Ceana asked.

“Nay one can run inside the soldiers,” Tommy said. “Faither ordered everyone to be careful with ye.”

Oscar stood beside the fireplace and did not correct him. Paisley sat on a stool beyond the wooden line.

Ceana removed several soldiers and opened the circle. “Come closer, both of ye.”

Paisley rose first. Tommy glanced at Oscar before stepping across.

Ceana drew them beside her chair. “We have neglected our question game. Tommy, if Ness became Laird for one day, what would be her first command?”

Tommy thought about it for a while before answering. “Probably that every cabbage must be banished from the castle.”

Ness chose that moment to seize one of the wooden soldiers and trot away with it between her teeth. Ceana laughed so hard that she started coughing.

Oscar crossed the room at once. “Are ye dizzy? Are ye in pain?”

“I am laughin’.”

“That is enough for tonight. Ceana must rest.”

Tommy’s face fell. “I kept everyone outside the line. I am sorry I made ye laugh too hard.”

Ceana took his hand. “Laughter hasnae harmed me.”

Paisley watched Oscar from beside the chair. “If ye are well, why must we stay away from ye?”

“Ye need only remember that there are risks when a woman carries a bairn—” Oscar began.

“Enough,” Ceana cut in, gathering both children close. “Ye can sit beside me. Ye can embrace me and laugh with me.”

Tommy’s arms remained cautious around her.

After kissing each child, Ceana sent them to help Mairi rescue the wooden soldier from Ness. Oscar left for his study before the door had closed behind them.

Ceana followed.

The same straight-backed chair in which she had bargained over their marriage stood before his desk. Oscar moved behind it as she closed the door.

“Why are ye nae restin’?” he asked.

“That question is why I followed ye.” She advanced to the desk. “Ye have made me return feel like imprisonment.”

“I arranged a safe journey. Ye were tired when we arrived. I make certain ye eat, and I have allowed ye to continue workin’. The children must learn caution.”

“Or ye can just ask what I need before makin’ any decision.”

“I am keepin’ ye and the bairn safe.”

Ceana stepped around the desk until less than an arm’s length separated them. His gaze followed the rise and fall of her chest before dropping to the faint swell of her belly. Both hands remained braced against the wood.

“Tommy believes laughter can hurt me. Paisley is afraid to sit beside me. The servants report me movements, and ye have turned our marriage bed into a watch post.”

“I cannae ignore danger because ye dislike the precautions.”

“What danger, Oscar?” Ceana demanded. “What do ye believe will happen if I climb the stairs, keep a ledger, or hold yer children?”

His fingers curled around the edge of the desk. His mouth opened, then closed. For a man who had rules for every hour, he had absolutely no name for the fear governing them.

“If ye keep me trapped in the name of savin’ me, Oscar, ye will lose me again.”

Oscar swallowed, unable to say anything else.

CHAPTER 31

For a minute, all Oscar could do was stare at her. She stood between him and the door, close enough for him to see the quick pulse in her throat. One step back, and she would place her hand on the doorknob.

He wanted to tell her to sit down.

The command reached his tongue before he caught it. He bit the inside of his cheek, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.

Ceana’s gaze dropped to his lips. “Ye were about to order me into that chair, were ye nae?”

“Aye.”

“That is the trouble.”

His hands remained braced on the desk where he had accused her of deceiving him. The wood pressed into his palms as she stepped closer.

“Ye interrupt work I am capable of doin’. Ye have forbidden the stairs and ordered the servants to report what I eat and how long I rest.” Her fingers closed around the folds of her gown. “Does any of that nae sound strange to ye?”

Oscar’s grip tightened.

“And every night,” Ceana continued, “ye lie across the chamber and watch me from the chair as though our marriage bed has become another dangerous place.”

“Every precaution was meant to keep ye safe.”

“Safe for what kind of life?” she asked.

The question stripped every defence from his mouth.

“I returned because ye asked me to,” she said. “I returned because ye finally believed me. I didnae return to become a body everyone else governs.”

His gaze fell to her belly. He had watched it change all week and denied himself the touch he craved. Each night, desire had kept him awake on the floor while Ceana lay within reach. He wanted to lay his palm on her belly. He wanted her pressed against him, warm and willing, with nothing between them.

His hands stayed on the desk.

“Ye have been ill,” he said. “A fall on the stairs could hurt ye. Too little food could weaken ye.”

“But that isnae just it, is it? There is somethin’ else. Somethin’ else ye see when ye look at me. What is it?” 

Oscar lowered his head, his breath scraping through his throat. He might as well come out with it. “As ye ken, me first wife died givin’ birth to Tommy.”

Ceana’s fingers loosened around her gown.

“Paisley was seven, but since she was a girl, the clan still expected a son.” He pushed off the desk and flexed his achin’ fingers. “Me first wife was me friend. She trusted me when we agreed to another pregnancy for the sake of the clan.”

The study blurred at the edges. He fixed his gaze on a dark mark in the wood.

“Her labor lasted through the night. The midwives spoke plainly at first, then their voices changed.” He swallowed thickly. “Blood soaked through one cloth while they reached for another.”

Tommy had cried with furious strength. Oscar could still remember the weight of his wet, squalling body in his arms while the midwives worked behind the bed curtains.

“I heard me son’s first cry while his maither lay beyond savin’. The clan received its heir.” He pressed one fist against his sternum. “But Mary paid for it with her life.”

Ceana remained beside the door. Her shoulders had lowered, and her hands now hung open at her sides.

“Since that day, every sign of pregnancy takes me back to that chamber,” Oscar continued. “When ye cannae eat or feel faint, I see the blood on those linens. If I lose ye, there will be too little of me left for Tommy or Paisley.”

For a minute, the room was silent. Oscar bit the inside of his cheek while Ceana looked down at the floor, sympathy flashing across her face. He was grateful for that. The last thing he needed was pity.

Ceana drew in a slow breath. “Ye cannae prevent death by preventin’ me from livin’. Yer fear is already harmin’ the children ye want to protect.”

Oscar raised his eyes to hers. “What do ye need from me?”

“Trust Muriel’s judgment. Let me work, climb the stairs, and hold the children without everyone waitin’ for yer permission.” She took a step toward him. “I will tell ye when I am tired, ill, or afraid. When I say I am well, ye must believe me. The servants must stop reportin’ me every movement.”

“The fear willnae vanish because I have said what happened.” Oscar reached for the bell cord. “It willnae become another order without yer agreement.” He pulled once.

A footman entered, but Oscar kept his eyes on Ceana. “Tell Mairi and the other servants that all reports about Lady MacKane’s meals, work, rest, and movements will cease at once. Her use of the stairs is nay longer restricted.”

“Aye, me Laird.”

The footman bowed and withdrew, closing the door behind him.

Oscar rounded the desk and stopped beyond reach. Ceana studied him, her gaze moving over his face before settling on his right hand. She reached for it.

He relaxed his fingers as she turned his wrist and guided his palm downward. Warmth spread through him when she placed his hand on the small swell of her belly.

Suddenly, he felt a flutter against the center of his palm. He stared down, certain it had been Ceana shifting beneath his hand. But then her breath caught.

“Did ye feel that?” she whispered.

The faint flutter touched his palm again.

Oscar sank down to one knee, keeping his hand where she had placed it. His breath broke into a laugh as heat gathered behind his eyes.

“There ye are,” he whispered.

Oscar remained on one knee before her as her hand found his shoulder. Tears clung to his lower lashes, and his shoulders rose unevenly beneath her hand.

“That is really our bairn?”

“Aye.”

His palm stayed warm against her belly. He waited, wanting nothing more than to feel the baby again.

“This doesnae erase what we agreed on,” Ceana warned.

He looked up at her. “I understand.”

“I will accept care, honesty, and reasonable caution. But I willnae accept bein’ watched or askin’ permission to live.”

“Ye willnae have to.”

Ceana stroked the damp hair back from his forehead. “I missed ye for the whole month I was gone. I have missed ye this week too, with ye sleepin’ two paces away.”

“I lay awake wantin’ ye every night.” His fingers curled gently over her belly. “I love ye, Ceana.”

Her breath caught. “I love ye too.”

She took his other hand and tugged him up. The instant he was on his feet, she caught his face between her palms and kissed him.

Oscar’s mouth opened beneath hers with a rough sound. His arm closed around her waist, drawing her against the hard length of his body. The first stroke of his tongue sent heat straight to her core. She clutched his shirt and kissed him harder, tasting the month they had spent apart and every sleepless night that had followed.

Eventually, he broke away, his breath a little ragged. “Are ye certain?”

“I came home because I chose ye. I am choosin’ this too.” Ceana took his hand and led him out of the study.

She climbed the stairs at her own pace. Oscar matched every step, his jaw tight and his hands hanging at his sides. When her skirts brushed the next step, his fingers flexed. He still allowed her to reach the landing on her own.

Inside their chamber, Ceana turned toward the bed. “There,” she said. “It is only fair.”

She pushed him down and straddled his lap. His hands hovered near her waist until she placed them there.

She unbuttoned his shirt and spread her palms over the heated skin beneath it. His heart beat hard against her hand. She peppered kisses on his chest as he unfastened her gown, then raised her arms so he could pull it off her. Her shift followed, leaving her naked astride him.

Oscar’s eyes darkened as they slid over her swollen breasts and the slight swell of her belly before returning to her face.

“Ye look… breathtakin’,” he rasped, brushing two fingers over her belly.

He bent and kissed the curve once. Then his mouth trailed up her ribs before closing around her nipple. She arched into him as his tongue circled the sensitive peak. His hand cupped her other breast, kneading it until she pressed closer and threaded both hands through his hair.

“Oscar.”

He laid her down on the bed, making sure to slide a pillow beneath her head, then kneeled between her parted legs. His mouth moved down her stomach and up her inner thigh.

The first swipe of his tongue through her wet folds tore a cry from her. Ceana grabbed his shoulder as he opened her with his thumbs and found her bud. He circled it slowly, all while intently watching her face.

“More,” she begged. “Daenae make me wait again.”

Oscar slid one finger inside her as his tongue worked faster. The rhythmic strokes heightened her pleasure, causing her inner walls to tighten.

Ceana lifted her hips and held his head between her thighs. “There. Keep doin’ that.”

He obeyed.

His finger curled inside her, and the firm pressure of his mouth carried her over the edge. She cried out his name, gripping the headboard until the last tremor ebbed.

He kissed the inside of her thigh. She caught his shirt and pulled him over her. She kissed him once, tasting herself on his mouth, then pushed against his shoulder.

“On yer back.”

He turned over at once.

Ceana tugged off his breeches and straddled his hips. His erection stood thick against her belly. She wrapped her hand around him, guided the head to her entrance, and slowly lowered herself onto him.

Oscar’s breath left him in a groan. His hands hovered near her hips.

“Touch me.”

His palms settled there.

Ceana rocked her hips until he was fully seated inside her, then paused to relish the stretch.

She began to move. Each rise drew him nearly free before she sank onto him again, controlling the depth and rhythm. Oscar watched her breasts sway, then fixed his gaze on her face. When a deeper stroke made her gasp, fear tightened his expression.

“Look at me,” she soothed. “I am here, and I want ye.”

His eyes met hers.

“I love ye,” he murmured.

“I love ye too.”

Ceana quickened the pace, and his fingers tightened on her hips without directing her. Pleasure gathered again as she ground against him, taking the angle she needed.

Her climax seized her with a sharp cry. Oscar held her through every tremor, then drove upward at her urging and came inside her. She remained above him until their breathing slowed.

Eventually, he laid her on her back, washed between her thighs with a warm cloth, and brought water to her lips.

“Are ye comfortable?” he asked.

“Aye.”

He nodded. “Tell me if that changes.”

After helping her into a clean shift, he pulled on his shirt. “Ye daenae need me to leave the bed?”

The question warmed her more than the blanket waiting there.

“Nay, I daenae.”

Oscar nodded and climbed in beside her, drawing her against his chest. Ceana rested there until a knock sounded at the door.

Paisley poked her head through the gap. “May Tommy and I sleep with ye?”

Behind her, Tommy struggled to block Ness with his body. The goat thrust its nose beneath his arm.

Ceana giggled, and Oscar’s chest shook with his own laughter.

“Anyone who kicks will sleep elsewhere,” he warned.

“Ness never kicks,” Tommy declared.

Paisley looked at the goat. Ceana raised one eyebrow. Tommy abandoned his defence.

“May I lie beside ye?” Paisley asked Ceana.

“Come here.”

Ceana drew her close.

Tommy climbed in beside Oscar and immediately stretched across more space than his small body required. Ness settled on the rug near the foot of the bed.

Oscar placed one hand on Ceana’s belly, feeling their child move.

“I have never been happier,” she whispered.

“Me neither,” he murmured, his voice thick.

Until Tommy’s heel struck his shin.

He opened one eye, drew the blanket higher over the boy, and gathered them all closer.

EPILOGUE

SIX MONTHS LATER

Ceana bent over the side of the bed, both hands locked around Oscar’s wrist.

“Take more of her weight,” Muriel instructed.

Oscar widened his stance and drew closer, letting Ceana remain in the position she had chosen. Her breathing shortened as another contraction seized her. Damp strands of hair clung to her neck, and her nails pressed crescents into his skin.

Over her shoulder, Muriel arranged folded linen beside the basin with steady hands. Oscar almost asked whether Ceana’s breathing troubled her. He had promised to trust his sister’s judgment, so he kept the question behind his teeth and watched his wife.

When Ceana’s grip eased, Muriel said, “Give her water.”

Oscar held the cup while she drank. After two sips, Ceana pushed it away. He set the cup down, and his gaze lingered on the water as he fought the urge to press another sip upon her.

“Stop lookin’ as though ye have already selected yer mournin’ clothes,” she huffed.

“I cannae control me face while ye are tryin’ to break me hand.”

“Then give me the other one.”

Muriel hid a brief smile as Ceana seized his left wrist. “And walk while ye still wish to.”

She had permitted Oscar to remain because Ceana had asked for him. He would stay above Ceana’s waist and obey every order. At one word from his wife, he would leave.

Ceana took slow steps between the bed and the fire while Oscar moved beside her without steering. When another contraction hit, she reached for his arm and leaned heavily against him.

The cradle stood near the wall. Paisley’s ribbon adorned one carved rail, the same ribbon that had lain beside her cheek when the family slept together in this bed. A strip of clean linen rested near Muriel, with fresh water in the basin below it.

“Has the bairn arrived?” Tommy called from the passage.

“The entire castle will ken when it has,” Mairi answered.

Ness bleated.

“Ness agrees with me,” Tommy said.

A huff of laughter escaped Ceana before she pressed her forehead against Oscar’s shoulder. She caught his hand and placed it between her shoulder blades. He rubbed there until her grip slackened.

“Is Ceana well?” Paisley asked beyond the door.

“Muriel is carin’ for her,” Heather replied. “Yer grandfaither and I are here with ye.”

Oscar considered sending them downstairs, but Ceana had chosen to keep the children close enough to receive news quickly. His hand continued rubbing slow circles between her shoulders.

The water in the pitcher had fallen by half when a maid fed the fire again. Muriel replaced the damp cloth at Ceana’s neck. Soon her legs began to tremble.

“Ye may kneel against the bed now,” Muriel said.

Oscar placed folded linen where she indicated and reached for more cushions.

“One is sufficient,” Ceana insisted. 

She then kneeled against the bed and drew him in front of her until her forearms rested on his shoulders. He kept one hand on her back and the other on her side, following each movement she made while Muriel reached for a stained cloth.

Stained cloth.

Dark linen.

Tommy crying while his mother lay dead.

His hands tightened.

“Oscar.” Ceana’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. “Look at me.”

He forced his gaze to her face. Sweat covered her brow, and exhaustion had drawn her mouth tight.

“I am still here,” she reassured him.

“Ye asked me to speak if I saw danger. I see none. Trust me and hold her,” Muriel urged.

Oscar loosened his grip. “Forgive me.”

“I need yer hand more than yer apology,” Ceana grunted.

He gave it to her.

The next contraction closed her fingers around his until her nails broke the skin over his knuckles.

“I have had enough of this child’s stubbornness,” she said through clenched teeth.

“The bairn clearly inherited it from ye.”

“When I finish givin’ birth, I shall hurt ye.”

Her mouth opened with the next contraction, and the threat broke into a groan. Oscar held her gaze while her shoulders shook. She gripped his hand and breathed through the pain.

“The child is comin’,” Muriel said.

Oscar kept his eyes on Ceana. Her nails cut deeper as her whole body strained against his support.

Ceana gripped his hand with both of hers and gave one final effort. Behind her, Muriel reached forward as the baby’s shoulders emerged, followed quickly by the rest of his small body into her waiting hands.

For one moment, Oscar heard only Ceana’s ragged breathing. Then a thin, furious cry filled the chamber, and he froze. Tommy’s newborn cry returned with the image of his first wife lying still.

He blinked twice and looked directly at Ceana. Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes opened.

“Oscar,” she rasped. “Ye are crushin’ me fingers.”

He released the pressure at once.

“Help her settle back,” Muriel said calmly.

Oscar obeyed.

The baby cried again while Muriel wrapped him in clean linen, and then she examined Ceana and checked her pulse. Oscar waited until she withdrew her hand.

“Is she well?”

“She is tired and sore, as she has every right to be, but she is presently well,” Muriel assured him. “Ye have a strong son.”

At the door, a maid asked what news she should carry downstairs.

“Tell them Lady MacKane is well. Then tell them we have a son,” Oscar called.

“Let me see him,” Ceana demanded.

Muriel placed the wrapped baby in her arms. Ceana brushed one finger over his cheek, and he turned toward her warmth.

“Do ye intend to meet yer son?” she asked.

Oscar approached when she beckoned him over and held the baby out to him. “Will ye hold him?”

“Me hands are shakin’.”

“So are mine.”

Muriel showed him how to support the baby’s small head, and Oscar took him.

The baby was warm and surprisingly light. His furious cry vibrated against Oscar’s palm. When Ceana reached out, he returned the baby to her. She opened her eyes above their son’s dark head as Oscar slipped one hand beneath him and closed the other around her fingers.

They were both warm.

When she handed the baby back to him, he sat beside the bed with his swaddled son cradled against his chest. Muriel had helped Ceana into a fresh shift and changed the bedding, though Ceana remained pale from labor. Sweat dampened the hair at her temples, and her eyes were heavy.

The baby shifted against Oscar and made a small sound of protest. Oscar adjusted his arm beneath the slight weight, careful of the head resting near his elbow. Paisley’s ribbon glinted from the cradle.

“The bairns may visit for a short while, if Ceana wishes it,” Muriel allowed.

Oscar looked at his wife. “Are ye ready for them?”

“Aye. Let them come.”

“And Ceana will say when she has had enough,” Muriel added.

“Aye,” Oscar agreed.

Soon enough, Heather opened the door. Tommy bolted across the threshold, and Mairi caught the back of his tunic before he reached the bed.

“Mind the bairn,” she warned.

He slowed down at once, placing each foot with exaggerated care.

Paisley entered behind him, while David hovered near the door with Heather.

Paisley barely glanced at the bundle in Oscar’s arms. Her eyes fixed on Ceana. “Are ye truly well?” she asked.

Ceana lifted her head from the pillow. “I am sore, hungry, and in need of every pillow in the castle. So, aye, sweetness, I am well.”

“She needs food and rest now,” Muriel said. “Ye can believe her.”

Paisley approached the bed. When Ceana opened one arm, the girl leaned against her with such care that her shoulder barely touched the mattress. Ceana drew her closer and cupped her cheek.

Paisley pressed her face into Ceana’s palm. Her breath caught, and her fingers tightened around the sheet. Oscar watched his wife brush her thumb beneath the girl’s eye until her tight grip loosened.

“May I see me braither?” Tommy asked.

Oscar lowered the baby enough for him to take a look. Tommy bent forward, studying the small face tucked within the linen.

“He is smaller than Ness.”

“Ness is nearly grown,” Paisley said without lifting her cheek from Ceana’s hand.

“Can he see? Does he bite? Can he hold anythin’?”

Oscar lifted the baby’s hand from the swaddle and placed Tommy’s finger in his tiny palm. The baby’s fingers immediately closed around it.

“He likes me best!” Tommy announced.

“Then we have a problem,” Paisley said.

Tommy’s pleased expression faltered.

Oscar rested his free hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He is yer braither. He would be wrong to nae like ye.”

Heather drew near and touched the baby’s covered foot. When Muriel warned that Ceana required space, she guided David back toward the passage.

“Can Ness enter for the namin’?” Tommy asked. 

“Nay,” Muriel said, just as a bleat rose from beyond the door.

Tommy rubbed his chin. “We could name him Oscar, then. He has Faither’s displeased expression.”

“One Oscar has exhausted this household enough,” Ceana snorted.

Oscar looked at her. “Ye were kinder to me durin’ labor.”

“Aye. Because I was distracted.”

“Ewan,” Paisley said.

Everyone turned toward her. She sat beside Ceana with one hand resting on the blanket.

“Nay one here has that name,” she pointed out. “It would be his own.”

Tommy tested it beneath his breath. “Ewan.”

“Say it to him,” Ceana urged.

He leaned closer to the baby. “Ewan.”

The baby tightened his grip on Tommy’s finger and gave a quiet grunt.

“He agrees,” Tommy laughed.

“Ewan,” Paisley repeated, watching her brother’s small fist.

Oscar looked at Ceana. Fatigue still lined her face, but her eyes remained clear on him. “Do ye approve?” he asked.

“Aye. The name suits him.”

He looked down at the dark head resting against his chest. “Ewan Barr.”

The baby stirred at the sound of his voice.

“May I hold him?” Paisley asked.

Ceana shifted against the pillows. “Bring him here. Support his head for her, Oscar.”

Oscar moved closer to the bed while Ceana arranged Paisley’s arms. At her direction, he lowered Ewan into them and kept one hand beneath the baby’s head until Paisley held him securely. She remained tucked against Ceana’s shoulder while Tommy watched the tiny fist gripping his finger.

“Ewan Barr,” he declared, as though he alone had settled it.

Ewan held fast to his brother, and Oscar kept all three children close.

The End?

EXTENDED EPILOGUE

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PREVIEW: THE LAIRD SHE CAN’T FORGET

“I burned villages to find you, wife.”

Skye wakes up lost and confused at the Leanan Love Festival…only to find out she’s been married to her greatest enemy, the most ruthless Laird of the Highlands, for a year.

CHAPTER 1

Ach, me head.

Skye opened her eyes gingerly, wary of the angry sunlight shining through her closed lids.

Sure enough, the moment she opened her eyes a crack, light stabbed through, making her head ache worse than ever. Had she drunk too much wine?

Nay, it cannae be that. I’d never allow meself to drink enough to impair me judgment. That’s one lesson me braither taught me early on. Daenae risk it.

Wincing, she lifted a hand to the back of her head, feeling all around the base of her skull. Surely she’d hit her head or something.

There was no lump, though, no graze, no swelling, not even a smear of blood.

Strange.

A headache pounded between her temples, but there was no localized soreness, no bruise, nothing to indicate an injury on the outside of her head.

Drawing in a ragged breath, she opened her eyes properly, the sun seeming to stab right through her pupils and into her brain. She imagined the light beam bouncing around inside her skull, stabbing wherever it landed.

Blinking, she took in her surroundings. She lay on the floor, curled up in the corner of a tent. A few empty crates and burlap sacks were shoved in an opposite corner. The tent itself stunk of damp and mustiness. There was no rug or sheet laid on the ground, leaving her stretched out on the bare earth.

At the top of the tent, where the central tent pole held up the roof, thick, dusty spiderwebs clustered, undisturbed. There were no seats, no furniture, not even a pallet bed or a bedroll. Not even a jug and basin to wash in.

This is a storage tent. Where am I? What am I doing here?

She had been lying on her side, facing the flapping entrance to the tent, which explained why the sunlight had assailed her so violently. A second question followed the first, and this one was much more unsettling.

How did I get here?

In fact, it was the answer to the question that terrified her, because she didn’t know the answer. In fact, Skye had no idea how she had come to be in this tent, let alone why.

A throb of quiet anxiety started up at the back of her mind.

Shouldn’t she remember? How long had she been here? What had possessed her to crawl into a storage tent of all places, and then drift off to sleep? Were others looking for her? Was she far from home?

Questions flooded her mind, bringing sharp terror along with them. Each answer came at once, an endless parade of I daenae ken, I daenae ken.

Then, quite gradually, memories started to slide back into place, and she sighed with relief. The terror receded. It was nothing more than a little confusion after waking up, nothing to fret over.

I ken why I am here, she thought, crawling toward the entrance. I came with me cousin, Creighton. This is the bride swap to solidify the treaty between Clan MacColl and Clan Bryden. I’m to live with Laird Bryden for a year at his keep, while Creighton takes whichever lass Bryden offers.

Then that means this is the Leanan Festival.

She crawled out of the tent, blinking in the sunlight, and rose stiffly to her feet. She still wasn’t entirely sure why she’d come to the storage tent, but the memories were coming back, and that was all that mattered. As she’d guessed, she was near the woods, where the storage tents were kept.

Larger tents and stalls were found toward the center of the field, selling food and drinks of all kinds. Faint music reached her ears, some toe-tapping melody that would doubtless thrill the dancers. Lairds and ladies could—and should—dance, of course, but they generally weren’t supposed to enjoy dancing too much.

It wasn’t serious enough. Things like relaxation and simple enjoyment were reserved for the common folk. Lairds and ladies had weights pressing down on their shoulders, and they had to constantly think about what impression they were giving.

For example, if anyone were to see her at that moment, crawling bleary-eyed out of a storage tent, she would look thoroughly silly. She straightened up, surreptitiously brushing dust and spiderwebs off her skirts.

With horror, she noticed a brownish stain on one knee, probably from kneeling on a patch of damp ground. Cursing, she scrubbed at it with her palm, but of course the stain did not budge.

Oh, well. She’d have to hope that the man she was here to meet would not notice the stain, or at least did not care. Perhaps he’d be busy staring at her face and would have no time at all to spare for a glance at her knees.

I’ll ask Laird Bryden to dance. I’ll put him at ease. He’ll answer for what he did; I’m determined to make that happen. But I cannae risk the treaty, so I shall have to be careful. For now.

Breathing deeply, she lifted a shaking hand to her face. No mask. Well, too bad. She’d have to walk through the festival bare-faced.

Why am I so disoriented? Was there something in me wine?

That was an unpleasant thought.

She glanced down at herself. Her plain green wool dress seemed unruffled and untorn. A careful movement located no bruises or soreness in her body, nothing to indicate she’d been roughly handled. Besides her pounding headache, she seemed to be in fairly good health.

Well then, no sense in delaying.

She stepped around the tent and immediately found herself swept up by the crowd.

The Leanan Festival grew busier every year. People loved the mystery of all the masked faces, adoring the idea that a laird might dance with a dairymaid, the two of them wearing masks with no idea of the other’s identity.

There’d be food, drink, dancing, and things to buy. People often said that they spent half the year talking about the Leanan Festival and the things they’d done there, and the other half looking forward to the next one.

Of course, for Skye, the festival was just business.

A few curious looks were thrown at her as she elbowed her way through the crowd.

I need to find Creighton. I should tell him what happened to me. Or rather, tell him that I daenae remember what happened to me. Why do I nae remember? If somebody put something in me wine, Creighton needs to ken. And perhaps Laird Bryden should be warned, too.

She paused, standing on her tiptoes and craning her neck, trying to see above the crowd. Creighton was tall; she should be able to spot him. She’d ken it was him, even with the mask.

Her brother had warned her to stay close to Creighton. He wasn’t pleased with her agreeing to the bride swap treaty.

“It’s only for a year,” she murmured to herself, repeating the phrase she’d said countless times to herself, to her family, to everybody. “Just a year. Twelve months, maybe less. I daenae have to actually marry him at the end of it—and I certainly willnae—and then there’ll be peace.”

But nae before I get me revenge on the man who killed me faither.

A gaggle of giggling girls pushed past her, and Skye grabbed one of them by the shoulder.

“Forgive me, but could ye tell me where I can find Laird Bryden? He may nae be masked,” she asked, offering an apologetic smile.

“I think I saw a man in Bryden tartan over there,” one of the girls answered, pointing. “There are soldiers around him, though. He seems on edge. Everybody does. Hardly surprising, considering.”

“Considering what?”

The girls stared at Skye as if she’d grown a second head.

When it became obvious that she was not going to get an answer, Skye sighed. “Thank ye, lassie,” she said, then moved past them.

The girls eyed her curiously as she walked away. When her back was turned, they began whispering urgently to each other.

She rolled her eyes.

Ridiculous.

She immediately felt a little guilty over her harsh thoughts. After all, they were here to have a good time and relax. Let them giggle if they wanted.

She threw a quick smile back over her shoulder, to reassure them that all was well, but the girls only stared back at her, wide-eyed.

Or maybe they’re just a wee bit soft in the head.

She walked on, pushing unceremoniously through the crowd. More stares followed her, a sure sign that she’d been recognized. As the sister of a laird and the cousin of another, she was fairly well-known.

At least half a dozen serious marriage offers had come in for her from various clans, either from the laird himself or on behalf of a son, brother, or some other relative. Marrying her would ensure good relations with Clan MacColl and Clan MacCrimmon.

That’s what I am, I suppose. An asset.

She pushed that thought aside.

At last, the crowd thinned, and she found herself facing down a row of men in Bryden tartan. They stilled, gaping at her.

Dear God, I hope I’m nae too much of a mess, she thought, swallowing back a wince.

Clearing her throat and tossing back her hair, she threw them a wry smile. “I am Lady Skye Brennan. I am here with Laird MacColl. I’d like to speak with Laird Bryden, if I may.”

Silence ensued. The men glanced at each other, baffled.

She bit back a sigh.

Is everybody as stupid as a rock today?

“I’m sure he willnae mind,” she added gently. “We’re about to be betrothed.”

One of the men gulped audibly, turned on his heel, and raced away, presumably to fetch Laird Bryden.

Skye shifted from one foot to another, frowning.

This wasnae how it was meant to be.

No, she was meant to walk in, sail in, with her head held high and a faint smile on her face. Laird Bryden would be instantly captivated by her.

She wouldn’t marry him, of course. Nobody expected the bride swap to end in marriage. It was a bit of a farce, really, done for looks. To prove how much each clan trusted the other.

But if she could make Laird Bryden feel more for her than he should, then perhaps he might make a mistake. Perhaps she might learn something. But for now, this was their first meeting, and she should concentrate on being kind, pleasant, and welcoming.

Lure him in.

The soldier came hurrying back, pale-faced. He jerked his chin, indicating for her to follow him. Frowning at his rough manner, she reluctantly followed.

Passing through the line of soldiers, she spotted a tent pitched at the base of a tree. As they approached, a tall, broad-shouldered man ducked out of it. Straightening up, he stared at her as if looking at a ghost.

The first thing that Skye registered, with distinct discomfort, was that he was more handsome than she’d expected. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d imagined. Some hulking, slab-faced man with a flat nose and yellow teeth, perhaps.

Firstly, Laird Bryden was younger than she’d expected. He had dark hair hanging around his shoulders and sharp, slanted green eyes, like those of a cat.

His angular face was set in a grim scowl, his thin black eyebrows drawn together. When his gaze fell on her, his eyes widened, and his jaw slackened enough to reveal white teeth, not the yellow ones from her imagination.

“Skye,” he breathed, breaking the silence.

She pursed her lips.

Nae even Lady Skye, eh? He’s too forward.

He looked untidy, too. She let her gaze drag over his wrinkled shirt, tucked haphazardly into a rough wool kilt. Was that a knife hilt poking out of the top of his boot? Weapons were heavily frowned upon at the Leanan Festival. Why would he jeopardize their new arrangement?

He hadn’t shaved, either. Beards were common, naturally, but men generally either wore a beard or kept clean-shaven. Laird Bryden, however, had rough, untidy black stubble coating his cheeks and chin, making him look a little too bedraggled.

Despite the untidiness, he was good-looking, with that strong profile and that thick, glossy dark hair. And those eyes, bright and penetrating, the greenest irises she’d ever seen.

A twinge of familiarity rippled through her, and she frowned, trying to think of where she might have seen him before. Nothing came to mind.

It’s nae about looks, she reminded herself. Besides, this could have been worse.

“Laird Bryden,” she said smoothly, plastering a polite smile on her face. “It is good to meet ye at last.”

He gawped. “What?”

“Have ye met me cousin yet? Laird MacColl will want to see ye, to iron out the details.”

Laird Bryden blinked slowly at her, like a cat. Then he gave a rough, disbelieving laugh.

In two paces, he’d closed the space between them, seizing her by the wrist and pulling her toward him. He stretched out his arm as if about to fold her into a tight embrace.

Skye squeaked in alarm.

“What are ye doing?” she cried, thrusting her hand out in front of her to prevent being crushed against his chest.

Her palm rested against him, mostly by accident. She could feel the thrum of his heart against her hand. Warmth slipped easily through the thin linen shirt, soaking into her. His body heat turned into a tingling sensation that crept up her arm, and she hastily dropped her hand.

Frantic, Skye glanced around at the silent soldiers and attendants surrounding them. Were they really going to stand there and watch their master take such liberties with a woman he’d just met?

Apparently so.

Nobody’s going to help me, then.

Clearing her throat, she lifted her chin, meeting his eyes squarely.

Show him ye arenae to be toyed with. Show him that ye can stand yer ground.

“That’s improper, as ye well ken,” she stated crisply. “I am the daughter, sister, and cousin of lairds. Any mischief done toward me while I am in yer care will have serious consequences. Watch yerself, sir.”

He just stared at her with that same disbelieving look in his eyes. At last, he cleared his throat, his tongue darting out to touch the corner of his mouth.

“Have ye lost yer mind, wife?” he said, his voice clear and entirely unmistakable, his fingers still curled around her wrist.

His grip was not tight or uncomfortable, but Skye had a feeling that if she tried to pull away, she would not manage it.

“I… What?” she stammered.

He was not reacting in the way she’d expected.

“Ye heard me. Have ye gone mad? Do ye truly think that ye can play such games? The futures of our clans are at stake. For God’s sake, yer cousin is on the brink of declaring war. He’s wild with fury, and I have no answers for him.”

Skye blinked up at him. Was it possible they were having two entirely different conversations? Nothing of what he had said seemed to have anything to do with what she had said, or had anything to do with their conversation at all.

“What are ye talking about?” she managed.

He barked out a short, mirthless laugh. Abruptly, he stepped forward, his hand lifting. She flinched, not sure whether he was going to seize her chin or deliver a slap.

Instead, he gently brushed the curve of her cheek with his thumb. It stung where he’d touched. She must have had a scratch or a cut there.

“I burned down four villages on the shore looking for ye, wife,” he whispered, more tenderly than the situation called for. “Are ye hurt? Hungry? Thirsty? I’ll find somewhere quiet for ye to rest, and ye can tell us what happened. I have questions, but they can wait until ye are more yerself.”

She gave a faint, strangled cry, jerking her chin away from him. He dropped his hand as if stung.

“Are ye mad?” she hissed. “Ye cannae put yer hands on an unmarried woman like that, let alone a laird’s sister. Are ye trying to ruin this treaty before it even begins?”

He blinked. “What?”

“And… And why are ye calling me wife? This is our first meeting, and we arenae even officially betrothed!” She gave a brief, scoffing laugh. “Ye cannae possibly be so full of yerself. Do ye believe that I am yers already? I would like to return to me cousin now. Creighton will protect me, and we can talk under his watch.”

She turned to go, fully expecting him to release her. After all, he’d have to, wouldn’t he? The treaty was important. The MacColls and the Brydens needed an alliance.

Then why is he acting so strangely?

Laird Bryden was said to be a good laird and a clever, insightful man. So why on earth was he acting so strangely?

He didn’t release her. However, he shifted, and the side of his finger brushed against the inside of her wrist, hovering over her pulse point.

Skye tightened her jaw against the intimate touch, ignoring the tingles that spread across her skin. It was just a touch, nothing more. And once their betrothal began, there would certainly be no touching.

But can I trust him? If he acts this strangely now, then perhaps he will get worse once I am in his keep. But I cannae turn back now, can I?

“Skye,” Laird Bryden said, choosing his words with deliberate care, “what day is today?”

She blinked.

Oh, he is mad.

“Ye cannae have forgotten,” she said with a short laugh. “Look around us. It’s the Leanan Festival.”

“Aye, I ken that. Why are we here?”

“Have ye been drinking?” she whispered, leaning forward and taking a tentative sniff. She had expected to smell whiskey or ale or some other liquor on his breath, but instead there was nothing.

“Just humor me, lass.”

At least he’d stopped calling her wife. That was one less insult, at least.

She let out a long breath. “Today is the day of the lass swap. I am to go back with ye to Keep Bryden, and whatever lass ye have selected will live with me cousin Creighton for a year. At the end of the betrothal year, we’ll likely go our separate ways. Nobody thinks that this wee experiment will end in marriage,” she added tightly.

For a moment, Laird Bryden remained perfectly still. His eyes closed briefly, as if in pain.

“Oh,” he whispered.

“Laird Bryden, let me go. I would like to return to me cousin.”

“Evander. Me name is Evander.”

“Evander, then,” she tried, offering a weak smile. I cannae go back with this man. He’s mad. “Let me go. We’ll find Creighton, and then we will talk.”

“Creighton isnae here.”

“What?” She gave a tense laugh. “Of course he is. This is the Leanan Festival, and⁠—”

“He chose nae to attend this year. Riders have been sent for him as soon as ye appeared. But he’s angry, angry at me. Skye, there is a reason why I call ye wife.”

“I daenae understand,” she stammered.

At long last, she managed to pull her wrist free and drew her arm to her chest, holding her other hand protectively over it. He had left no marks, no bruises, but she could still feel where his fingers had rested on her skin.

Laird Bryden—Evander—gave an exhausted smile. “I call ye me wife because it is the truth. We have been married for a year, love.”

CHAPTER 2

“What?”

“It’s true. We wed shortly after the last Leanan Festival. Ye have been missing for almost as long,” he said carefully.

It was a joke, of course. It had to be a joke. A silly jest to put her at ease during their first meeting, a trick gone wrong. Or perhaps he knew he’d gone too far with calling her his wife and attempting to touch her, and was trying to regain ground.

A quick glance around showed Skye that she was surrounded by anxious-looking Bryden men. Soldiers, mostly. If she tried to make a run for it, they’d catch her easily. So, she turned back to Laird Bryden and offered a thin smile.

“Ye are funny, me Laird.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. Had his eyes been so heavy with exhaustion before?

“This is no joke, I’m afraid,” he stated quietly. “We wed about a month after the Leanan Festival. Last year’s festival was when the bride swap happened. I took ye home, and yer cousin Creighton took Nora, a lass from me keep. That was a twelvemonth ago.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Impossible. The last thing I remember is preparing for this day, for the bride swap. Lass swap, as most people call it behind our backs. Do ye think that I simply lost a whole year of me life? Do ye think I wouldnae remember coming home with ye? And choosing to wed ye, ha! What a joke! I’d never marry a beast like ye,” she spat out.

A soldier standing in her peripheral vision flinched. Evander, however, did not even blink.

“Ye are tired,” he stated. “Ye are hungry and thirsty, I wager. Ye need rest, and ye need food.”

Skye swallowed, noticing how dry her throat felt. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and now that he’d mentioned food, her stomach seemed to curl into a ball and scream.

Hungry? That was an understatement.

A year? A whole year has gone by?

Nay, impossible. Either I’m mad, or he is.

Her thoughts whirled round and round in her head, threatening to make her skull explode. She shook her head dizzily.

“Creighton… me braither…”

“Both Laird MacColl and Laird MacCrimmon have been sent for,” Evander assured her. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, steering her toward the tent behind him. “Ye must rest. Ye are swaying on yer feet, and I daenae want ye to collapse. Come with me.”

She let him nudge her toward the tent and gently push her inside.

The tent was cool and dark, easing an ache in her temples that she’d only just noticed. Inside, a mat had been unrolled to cover the floor. A pallet bed lay in the corner, along with a low stool and a long mirror beside it.

There was also a woman, a dirty, dishevelled creature, with tangled hair hanging down her back, and⁠—

Nay.

Skye shook her head and looked twice, staring at her own reflection in horror.

She stared at herself for a long, taut moment. Those were her eyes, wide and blue as a summer’s day. That was her hair, thick and black and in dire need of a brush and a good wash. And her dress! When had she ever worn a dress so stained and dirty?

Swallowing, she ran a shaking hand down the curve of her hip.

This is me dress. Me green one, me good one. I daenae remember choosing to wear it this morning. Did I nae want to wear me best gown? The new gray one?

But if she were to believe Evander, the morning she could remember had taken place a year ago.

Staring at herself, dirty and tired and wild-eyed, she was beginning to fear that it was true.

Evander murmured something to someone at the entrance, then ducked inside after her.

“Sit down, lass. Ye look ready to faint,” he ordered brusquely, moving over to a low table laden with a jug and a couple of goblets. He poured a crisp, glittering goblet of water and handed it to her.

Skye’s body reacted before her mind could. She snatched the goblet, gulping it down in three large mouthfuls. The water sloshed down inside her, a weight in her stomach.

“Thirsty,” Evander remarked thoughtfully. She held out her goblet for a refill, but he shook his head. “I daenae ken how long ye have gone without water. Too much might make ye ill. Wait a few moments, then I’ll give ye some more. Sip it this time.”

The thirst remained, but he was right.

Skye nodded slowly, frowning down at the goblet.

“Food is coming,” he added. “Now, ye look hungry, but of course ye must have been eating and drinking over the past year. Tell me, what is the last thing ye remember?”

She closed her eyes. “I was coming here. To meet ye, today, for the bride swap. Then I woke up in a tent, just now.”

“Alone?”

“Aye. I… I remember thinking that someone must have put something in me wine.”

His jaw tightened. “Do ye remember drinking wine?”

“I suppose,” she murmured. “I remember… I remember dressing this morning. I chose me gray dress.”

They both glanced down at her plain green wool dress.

“Do ye have other injuries? Cuts, bruises, soreness?” Evander continued, his voice brisk.

Skye shook her head, lifting her hand gingerly to the spot on her cheek he had touched. Glancing at the mirror, she saw that there was indeed a scratch there, nothing more than a graze, as if she’d stumbled against a tree with rough bark.

“Have I really been gone for a whole year?” she whispered, her voice catching.

Evander eyed her for a long moment. He kept his distance, as if allowing her to breathe.

“I told ye, we wed a month after yer came to stay with me at Keep Bryden,” he said, his voice tight.

She got the sense that he was trying to keep as calm as he could.

“Ye disappeared on our wedding night. Do ye truly remember nothing since then?”

She swallowed. “I daenae even remember meeting ye.”

A flash of something like pain crossed his eyes, hastily blinked away.

“We searched for ye,” he said brusquely. “All of us. Yer braither and cousin didnae believe that I had done something to ye, but there was no other explanation for why ye were missing. We are on the brink of war, I believe.”

“The thing I have trouble believing,” Skye burst out, “is that I would marry ye in the first place. I only agreed to this exchange for two reasons. First, to allow peace between our clans. And second, because I ken that yer faither killed mine. No justice was ever served, and I was determined to discover whether or nae ye had a part in it. I didnae view ye as an ally. I… I thought of killing ye!”

Evander gave a tight smile, folding brawny arms across his wide chest. “Aye, I ken that. Ye told me.”

“I would never have done that.”

“Nae at first.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Any fool with eyes could see that ye didnae trust me. But ye decided nae to take revenge on me when ye learned the truth.”

“Truth? What truth?”

He shrugged. “The truth that I was the one who killed me faither.”

Skye rocked back on her heels. “What?”

He gave a wry smile. “Aye, that was yer reaction the first time.”

“So I…” She paused, dragging a hand over her face. “I chose to stay with ye?”

He moved over to the stool and lowered himself onto it. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees. In this new position, he had to look up at her, his eyes dark in the gloomy tent.

An image suddenly flashed through her mind, of Evander looking up at her like that, kneeling down to pick something from the floor. In the memory—if it was a memory, of course—he was smiling, a wry, tentative smile that made her chest ache.

Enough, she scolded herself.

“If today marks one year since the last Leanan Festival,” she said slowly, “then I should be going home today. Me maither and braither are waiting for me. I wouldnae have left them behind. Unless…” She sucked in a breath, her eyes widening. “Did ye try to prevent me from leaving? Were ye trying to force me into marriage? Was that why I ran away?”

Evander heaved a sigh, dropping his face into his hands. “Nay, lass, that’s nae it.”

“Well, of course ye would say that.”

“Perhaps. But we have a wedding contract, lass.” His mouth quirked wryly. “Ye wrote most of it yerself. I have a copy with me, and yer braither and cousin both have copies. Yer braither didnae believe ye at first when ye said ye were marrying me. Yer maither seemed happy enough.”

Skye swallowed, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. It was in character for Hunter to doubt her like that. He hadn’t wanted her to go at all. Her mother, however, wanted to see her wed. She could imagine her mother meeting Evander and liking him a good deal.

“I daenae understand,” she whispered hoarsely. “None of this makes sense.”

“Aye, lass, ye are telling me,” Evander responded grimly. “I am trying to understand how an entire year could be wiped from a person’s memory. More to the point, I am wondering why.”

Why.

That awful word echoed.

Skye flinched, blinking.

Why.

She didn’t believe that her disappearance and memory loss could be an accident. Why didn’t she remember a thing? Would her memories return? And if somebody was behind it, how had they done it? Why had they done it?

Will they do it again?

Her knees threatened to jackknife underneath her, and she dropped down to the ground, breathing in and out. There wasn’t enough air in her lungs. She wasn’t breathing, even though she could feel the air rushing into her lungs. There wasn’t enough. There wasn’t⁠—

“Hey, hey, lassie.” Evander’s knees appeared in her line of vision. He slowly lowered himself beside her. A large hand rested on her shoulder, the warmth of his palm seeping in.

Glancing up, she met his eyes, fixed worriedly on her. He smiled faintly, tilting his head.

“Everything will be fine. Just breathe.”

“I… I cannae.”

“Ye can. Just relax. Concentrate on yer lungs, aye? Feel them expanding. How does that feel?”

She closed her eyes, letting out a long, shaky breath. Her lungs did feel as though they were filling once more. After a few moments, her shoulders relaxed.

“Now,” he continued, sitting back on his heels, “let’s discuss what we should do next.”

He removed his hand, carefully putting space between them. Skye rolled her shoulders back. She could feel where his palm had been.

I daenae understand. Why do I feel like this? Why am I so… so unsettled?

“We should dance,” Evander said firmly.

Now that was a surprise.

Her head snapped up. “We should what?”

He shrugged. “Ye often dance when ye are unsettled. I’ve seen it. Ye dance when ye are afraid or sad. Or when ye are angry, most often. Nae that I paid much attention to yer dancing,” he added, a little too hastily. “But it’s a wee bit hard to miss a lassie dancing like a lunatic after I forbade her to—” He stopped, clearing his throat.

She narrowed her eyes. “Forbade me to do what?”

“Nothing.”

“Nay, daenae nothing me, man. What did ye forbid me to do?”

He heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes to the heavens. “I forbade ye to visit the village on yer own. Ye werenae happy.”

“Well, that does sound like me.” She drew her lower lip between her teeth. “I daenae want to dance out there, where everybody can see me and stare.”

“Of course nae. I thought we could dance here. We can hear the music, and there’s privacy. What do ye say?”

He rose to his feet, lifting his eyebrows, and extended a hand.

Skye gave a tentative smile. Clambering to her feet, she placed her palm in his. “Aye,” she murmured.

He drew her close, the two of them poised to begin.

Why do I nae feel ill at ease or uncomfortable? Why do I feel… safe?

Her mind blurred, dizziness taking over, making the interior of the tent spin. Images flashed behind her eyes—something that wasn’t really there, not now, but had been there.

A memory.

One Year Ago

Creighton made the introductions, gesturing to Skye. She stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Laird Bryden.

“Me cousin, Skye. She’s the sister of Laird MacCrimmon, as I’m sure ye ken,” Creighton said briskly.

His gaze kept wandering to the woman Laird Bryden had brought for the bride swap, a tall redhead. The woman was not particularly pretty, in Skye’s opinion, but she had an even, clear stare that spoke of a strong character. She’d have to be a strong character to manage Creighton, certainly.

“She’s agreed to enter into a betrothal with ye,” her cousin continued, focusing on the task at hand, “but the choice will be hers as to whether she’ll wed ye or nae.”

“Understood,” Laird Bryden answered. He glanced at her, his gaze inquisitive, and she returned his stare steadily. She did not smile or nod back.

Did he ken that his faither wanted to kill mine? Did he ken about his faither’s treason? The man worked with the English and nearly crippled the other clans!

She could think about that later. For now, Creighton busied himself with his fake-betrothed. Her name was Nora Lane, apparently, and she wasn’t related to Laird Bryden in any way. She wasn’t even a lady. She was a healer.

If I were Creighton, I’d be offended.

Her cousin didn’t seem offended. He was staring hungrily at the woman, and she stared right back, wide-eyed and fascinated.

Skye turned her attention back to her own problem and found Laird Bryden already staring at her. She flashed a wide smile and hoped that he could not tell it was insincere.

“I hope we willnae leave before we’ve enjoyed the festivities. Do ye care to dance? I love dancing.”

He blinked. “I daenae love it, but I can dance if ye would like.”

Well, that was a surprising start. She hadn’t imagined that he would give up his preferences so easily.

She gave a more sincere smile. “Aye, I’d like that very much.”

It soon became clear that Creighton was not staying and that he planned to hustle his lass away as soon as possible.

This is it, then, Skye thought, her heart pounding. The year begins.

She forced herself to turn away from Creighton to avoid something humiliating, like bursting into tears and running after him. She caught Laird Bryden staring down at her, his dark eyebrows drawn together.

“Nervous?” he asked.

She forced a laugh. “Of course nae.”

He extended a hand. “Are we dancing, then?”

Tentatively, she placed her hand in his. “Aye. Let’s dance.”

The two of them paused to tie their masks over their eyes before moving to the dance floor. It would be easier to go unrecognized.

He still held her hand, their palms pressed together, his fingers laced through hers. She had expected it to feel unpleasant, had braced herself to endure it.

But it wasn’t unpleasant. His grip remained gentle but not weak, and really, it was convenient to have him pulling her gently through the crowd.

They reached the dance floor and turned to face each other.

“I really am terrible at this,” he confessed. “What dance is this? A jig?”

“Aye,” she laughed. “Ye ken how to dance a jig, do ye nae?”

“Daenae count on it. And I’ll tell ye now, I willnae be responsible for how many times I tread on yer toes.”

“Tell ye what,” she responded sweetly. “Every time ye tread on me toes, I’ll kick ye in the shin. Ye’ll learn to pick up yer feet, I’m sure.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Goodness, ye are sharp. Careful ye daenae cut yerself on that blade of a tongue.”

“Oh, I prefer to cut others.”

A slow smile crept onto his face, only to be hastily banished, as if he remembered that this was a serious occasion.

The music blared, and the dancers began to spin.

He really was not a good dancer, stumbling through the steps and making her laugh. His stamina, however, was unmatched. He danced reel after reel with her, laughing when she trod on her own hem and stumbled right off the dance floor.

“Careful, careful!” he cried, hurrying after her. She righted herself, breathless with laughter.

“I am sorry,” she gasped. “I’m usually more graceful.”

“And I’m usually more serious. Me men will be laughing at me, capering around on a dance floor.” He grimaced. “Shall we take a break? I’m gagging for a wee sip of cider.”

She smiled up at him, still breathless.

Maybe he’s nae as bad as I thought.

“I could fetch some for us,” she offered.

His gaze locked onto hers and held, intensifying. It became harder to breathe. Had he moved closer to her, or had she moved closer to him? Perhaps⁠—

Skye blinked, frowning. “Wait. Do ye hear that?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Hear what?”

“A wee meow. Like a cat or a kitten.”

“I didnae hear anything.”

She turned, peering into the dark undergrowth.

Dark? When did it get dark? Have we been here for hours already?

“There’s something in there,” she decided. “I’m going to look.”

Evander heaved a long-suffering sigh and stepped beside her. “Nae alone, ye arenae. Come on, lass. Lead the way.”

Pausing to smile up at him, she stepped off the path.

CHAPTER 3

PRESENT DAY

Skye drew in a panicked, ragged breath, pressing her hands against Evander’s chest, pushing him back.

His eyes flashed with alarm. “Lass? What is it?”

“I…” she stammered, trying to put her thoughts in proper order. “Nothing.”

His eyebrows turned down. “Nothing? Ye went as white as a sheet.”

She cleared her throat, rubbing the back of her hand across her cheek. “I am surprised that ye could tell, with all this grime. I cannae wait for a bath.”

Something like concern flickered in his eyes.

Skye frowned. Concern? For her? That didn’t seem right.

If they were married—and she’d believe it when she saw the marriage contract—then it could only have been a marriage of convenience. He hadn’t mentioned any deeper feelings, and really, she was relieved. Yes, she was. It made things simpler.

She looked at him more closely.

His clothes sagged around his frame, as though he’d lost weight recently. There was a fresh scar curling around the side of his neck, pink and raised, healed but not quite settled yet.

A wound like that on the neck was a sure sign of a dangerous battle. That sort of wound could kill a person in the blink of an eye. Judging from where the healing scar sat on his neck, it had missed one of his arteries by half an inch.

Half an inch from death. He’s been fighting. And those dark circles under his eyes didnae spring up overnight. He said that he’d been searching, that he’d burned down villages… for me?

Blinking, Skye drew in a breath, lowering herself onto the stool Evander had recently vacated.

“Do ye think me memories will return?” she whispered. “A whole year gone. It… it terrifies me.”

He took a step toward her, lowering himself into a crouch and peering up at her. The faint smell of petrichor and horse sweat wafted up from him, and she frowned.

I cannae shake this familiarity. I daenae ken him. I daenae have any memory of him. I daenae.

“I’m sure they will,” he responded quietly. “We’ll find out what happened to ye, Skye. I promise ye that.”

Before she could reply, a commotion burst out outside. A soldier gabbled, panicked, his words incoherent. Skye’s head snapped up as a familiar voice answered.

“I daenae give a witch’s curse if he’s busy or nae. Me cousin is in there, and I am going in.”

Evander heaved a sigh. “Ah, Creighton has arrived.”

An instant later, a tall, grim man shouldered his way through the tent flap, breathing heavily. His eyes glittered, and his fists clenched at his sides, as if bracing himself for a fight. His gaze fell on Skye, and his eyes widened.

“Skye,” he breathed. “It is ye. Ye are back!”

“Aye, it…” Skye began, but that was all she had time to say before her cousin pounced on her, dragging her into his arms in a bone-crushing embrace.

“Steady on, man. Let her breathe,” Evander sighed.

Creighton pulled back and turned a narrow-eyed glare on him. “This better nae be a trick, Bryden. If I find out that ye were behind her disappearance in any way…” He clenched his jaw and turned back to Skye. “What happened, then?”

“I daenae ken,” she confessed. “I woke up in a tent an hour or so ago, and believed I was at last year’s Leanan Festival. I thought it was the day of the bride swap. I… I daenae remember anything beyond getting ready that morning. I daenae remember Evander or anything that happened in the past year.”

He blinked. “How? An entire year, just gone?”

“Aye. I can hardly believe it meself,” she murmured. “It’s… It’s terrifying.”

He shuddered and glanced up at Evander. “We should have the healers look her over.”

Evander nodded. “Very wise, but I think I ken what they’ll say. Lost memories are difficult. They may return, or they may nae. All we can do is wait.”

“I remembered something,” Skye volunteered.

Both men glanced at her, their eyes widening.

“What?” Creighton asked eagerly. “What do ye remember?”

“Dancing at the Leanan Festival. I remember…” She paused, glancing over at Evander. “I remember ye. Meeting ye, that is. I remember how much I distrusted ye.”

Evander gave a huff of amusement. “Aye, I could tell. Ye glowered at me as if ye wanted to bite me head off. I remember how yer face lit up when I agreed to dance.”

“Ye always did love dancing,” Creighton murmured softly, his hand twitching out as if he wanted to draw Skye into an embrace again.

She barely glanced at him. Her gaze had locked onto Evander’s, green and ice blue meeting together, and somehow she could not separate them.

Why is he staring at me so intently? Do I look ugly?

She lifted a tentative hand to her cheek, the grazed one that she was sure had a little grime on it. Did she smell? Almost certainly.

Did I spend an entire year in this dress? Where did I go? Who took me? And why? Why, why, why?

Creighton spoke again, and Skye flinched, dropping her gaze at once.

“Nora wanted to come see ye, but I told her to wait,” he was saying, oblivious to how abruptly he’d shattered the strange moment between her and Evander. “I didnae ken what state ye would be in, and she doesnae need any scares, nae in her condition.”

“Her condition?” Skye repeated. “Wait, Nora? Do ye mean the woman who was yer false betrothed, swapped in place of me?”

Creighton lifted one smudgy eyebrow. “She’s no longer me false betrothed, lassie. We’re wed now, and she’s with child.”

Skye blinked, conjuring up an image of the tall, red-headed woman with steely eyes. She’d only met Nora once and wouldn’t have imagined she would be the one to capture Creighton’s heart.

“Was it political?” she asked reluctantly, glancing over at Evander.

Could it be that she and Creighton had decided to marry their betrotheds after all, just to solidify the alliance? It might even have been her own suggestion.

“Political?” Creighton repeated. A faintly dreamy look came into his eyes. “Nay, lass. I loved her. I love her.”

Well, that was a surprise.

Skye blinked, finding herself entirely at a loss for words.

“Ye are in love?” she sputtered. “Ye?”

Creighton gave a wry laugh. “Aye. It’s a shock, is it nae?”

“Nae a shock, exactly,” she responded, recovering. “But I am surprised.”

He chuckled, nodding. “So was I. I cannae wait for ye to meet her. Properly, I mean. Now, Hunter will be on his way, but I should warn ye that Aunt Helena’s health isnae good and she doesnae travel much. Once Hunter kens that ye are safe, he may delay his journey for a while.”

“Maither is ill?”

“No more ill than usual. Ye ken how she struggles.”

Skye bit her lower lip.

How did Maither feel, kenning that I was missing and that no one could find me? Sick and tired in that old keep, with Hunter probably going crazy and tearing up the walls in his frustration, how did she manage it?

“I want to see her,” she announced. “And me braither.”

“Nae just yet,” Evander spoke up.

Both of them turned to stare at him.

Evander had distanced himself, leaning heavily against the pole in the center of the tent. When Skye shot him a baleful glare, he only quirked an eyebrow.

“Ye are tired,” he stated. “Confused, frightened, maybe more hurt than we ken. Ye need rest, and we need to understand just what happened to ye and why before ye undertake any long journeys.”

“I feel fine.”

“Ye deliberately miss me point,” he sighed. “Ye could be in danger, Skye. We all could. This was no accidental disappearance. Somehow, I daenae think that ye wandered into the forest, hit yer head on a tree branch, and then spent a blissful year thinking that ye were some peasant’s daughter. Nay, something has happened here. And until I understand just what, I cannae let ye leave.”

Skye barked an incredulous laugh. “Ye cannae let me leave? Laird Bryden, ye overstep.”

“Aye, ye do,” Creighton snarled.

“Do I? I am her husband,” Evander responded sweetly. He met Creighton’s eyes and lifted his eyebrows. “Ye ken that I am.”

Skye glanced at her cousin. “Is it true?”

Creighton faltered, his jaw tightening. At last, he dropped his gaze and let out a shuddering sigh.

“It is true,” he admitted. “Ye are wed. I have a copy of the wedding contract meself.”

Skye felt as though a weight had settled into her stomach.

“But I-I wouldnae have d-done that,” she stammered. “I wouldnae have m-married him.”

“Ye did. And ye werenae coerced, I made sure of that meself. I visited ye, and we spoke of it. I ken ye, Skye. I daenae ken what happened since, but I ken that ye were sure of yer decision. Even happy.”

“Did I seem…” She hesitated, glancing uncertainly up at Evander. His blank face gave nothing away. “… to be in love?”

“I daenae think so.” Creighton shrugged. “But Nora would have noticed more than me if she’d been there. Ye said that it was a political alliance, and a smart one at that. I was pleased enough that ye kent what ye were doing, I’ll give ye that. What happened next, I cannae say.”

Silence fell after that.

Skye let out a ragged breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding in and rubbed a hand over her face.

“What do I do now?” she whispered.

“We go back to Keep Bryden,” Evander declared firmly. “Ye left a note, the night ye disappeared. I kept it.”

“A note? I daenae remember writing a note. But then, I daenae remember anything,” she added bitterly.

“I’ll let ye read it. It didnae… didnae sit right with me,” Evander murmured.

“Didnae sit right? In what way?” she asked.

He rolled his shoulders, his eyebrows knitting together. “It wasnae ye,” he said. “I cannae explain how I kent it.”

“Was it me handwriting?”

“The handwriting was bad. It was hard to tell. But ye had a lot of wine that night, and so did I. That could explain the bad writing.”

Creighton fixed his gaze on Evander. Evander met his stare, and suddenly the atmosphere was tense, crackling with uncertainty and danger.

“If she didnae leave on her own,” Creighton stated, slowly and coolly, “if she was kidnapped while under yer protection, Evander, then ye should expect two clans at yer doorstep, ready for war. MacColl and MacCrimmon willnae let this insult to our kin slide.”

Evander squared up to him. His stance remained loose and almost casual, but his eyes turned steely and unblinking. A muscle drummed in his cheek.

That’s how he looks when he’s angry, supplied a small voice at the back of Skye’s head. She frowned, trying to work out how she knew this.

“I had nothing to do with her disappearance,” Evander murmured. “I told ye this at the time. I am just as furious at this as ye are. Whatever the reason for her disappearance, if it were intentional, it is an insult and a danger to me as well as ye. Rest assured, I want vengeance as much as ye do. Let’s nae bother bickering when the real danger remains out there.”

Creighton pursed his lips and glanced over at Skye. “Do ye remember if ye left of yer own accord or nae? Think, lass.”

She screwed up her eyes, vainly willing memories to come forward. It was no good. The last year remained a blank. She still could not quite believe that there had been a last year, that a twelvemonth had gone by and left her behind.

“I… I daenae ken,” she whispered.

“Try.”

“I cannae, Creighton.”

“Just try.”

“Enough,” Evander interjected, stepping between Creighton and Skye. “I want her to remember just as much as ye, man. But pressuring her will do no good. In fact, it might make the memories retreat. She cannae conjure them at will. She’ll have to wait for them to come back of their own accord. We all must wait,” he added pointedly, meeting Creighton’s eyes.

Creighton pressed his lips together, but then gave a reluctant nod and turned away.

“I chose to be here,” Skye said suddenly.

Both men glanced at her. She stared at the mat between her feet.

Here was the intersection of two mats laid across the tent floor. There was a tiny, finger-width scrap of grass between the two edges, where they did not quite overlap. She felt the urge to reach down and dig her finger into the earth, as if that might ground her and draw out the truth.

“What do ye mean?” Creighton prompted.

“I mean that me braither didnae want me to go to Keep Bryden, but I chose to. I ken who I am and what I want. I chose to be here, and I chose to marry Evander. If I did all of that, I cannae imagine that I would simply change me mind for no good reason.”

“Something could have happened on yer wedding day to change yer mind,” Creighton suggested.

She shook her head slowly. “It could have, but somehow I daenae believe that. It doesnae sit right with me.”

“Ye can hardly trust yer instincts right now,” Creighton snorted. “Ye cannae even remember the past year.”

“True,” Skye acknowledged. “But I cannae imagine that I would suddenly change me mind and want to leave. I must have been taken.”

There was a long silence after she’d spoken, reality sinking in. Skye glanced between the two men’s faces, wondering if she dared break the silence just yet.

“Well,” Creighton said at last. “This is bad. Perhaps ye had nothing to do with it, Evander, but I’ll nae take the chance. She’s coming back with me to Keep MacColl. Ye can come if ye want, but⁠—”

“Nae a chance,” Evander interrupted. “She’s me wife. She’s coming back with me.”

“She doesnae even remember marrying ye! And I bet that she wouldnae marry ye now if ye asked.”

Evander missed a beat, glancing briefly over his shoulder at Skye. Their eyes met, just for a heartbeat, then he turned away. “This is me problem to solve. She is me wife.”

“And me cousin. And Laird MacCrimmon’s sister. She comes with me.”

“She stays.”

“I am right here, ye ken!” Skye burst out. “Ye could just ask me what I want.”

Evander turned to her. “All right, then. What do ye want?”

She hadn’t expected either of them to actually ask. She blinked, floundering for a second.

“I…”

Evander turned back to Creighton. “How about this? She stays with me for one month. If I havenae cleared up this problem after a month, she can go to ye. If she doesnae want to stay after one month, even if we find out what happened to her, then I will bring her back meself. Do we have a deal?”

Silence fell between them.

Creighton glanced down at Skye, lifting his eyebrows in an unspoken question. She bit her lip and nodded almost imperceptibly.

He sighed. “Very well, Evander. But I willnae be far off, and I will be watching.”

Evander gave a crisp nod. “I would expect no less.”

“I’ll send word to Hunter and Nora,” Creighton muttered, then ducked out of the tent, leaving them alone.

Evander turned to face Skye, his expression impassive.

“Good choice, wife,” he remarked coolly.

“I want to find out what happened to me.”

“Of course ye do. And for the next month, ye are mine again.”

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Thank you!

ALSO BY LYDIA KENDALL

Thank you for reading The Laird's Wrong Wife!

I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to please write a review HERE? It would mean the world to me. Your reviews are very important because they allow me to keep writing the books that you love to read!

Some other best sellers of mine:

Her Wedding to the Vicious Laird

The Laird She Can’t Forget

Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander

A Hellion for the Highland Hawk

One Year with the Laird

A Bride for the Highland Wolf

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Lydia Kendall

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lydia Kendall has always been passionate about medieval romance. Having  traveled to the Scottish Highlands several times as a young girl, she has always been drawn to their unparalleled beauty and history. A history that inspired stories of love and passion, mixed with tradition in the most appealing way for every hopeless romantic - much like herself.

Born in Denver, Colorado, Lydia Kendall has a degree in English Literature and Creative Writing, and over the last decade she has been writing non-stop for several clients - that is until she decided to start publishing her own work. When she isn’t writing, Lydia loves spending her time on the beautiful outdoors with her loving husband and baby daughter.

Follow Lydia on this sensational journey of hot highlanders, bonny lassies and fierce passion...and find sheer pleasure in the magnificent world of the Scottish countryside - one that will sweep you off your feet and keep you begging for more!

Lydia is part of Cobalt Fairy’s team of authors! Visit cobaltfairy.com for new, bargain and free deals for every dedicated bookworm there is out there!