Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The next day, Ian paced the length of his chamber like a restless wolf. Arianna’s cold eyes in the library haunted him more than he cared to admit. He had half convinced himself she might come to him once tempers cooled.
A sharp knock sounded at the door. Ian turned immediately, his pulse quickening with sudden hope. He crossed the room in three long strides and pulled the door open. The hope faded just as quickly when he saw Flynn standing there.
Flynn held a bottle of whisky in one hand and two metal goblets in the other.
He lifted one brow with a knowing smirk. “I thought ye could use a drink.”
Ian exhaled slowly. “Aye,” he muttered. “I could.”
Flynn stepped inside without waiting for further invitation and shut the door behind him. He placed the goblets on the small table near the fire and uncorked the bottle. The sharp scent of whisky quickly filled the room as he poured two generous measures.
Ian leaned against the edge of the table as Flynn handed him a goblet.
“To stubborn wives,” Flynn said dryly.
Ian gave a humorless snort. “If that’s the toast, we’ll need the whole bottle.”
They drank in silence for a moment.
Flynn studied him over the rim of his goblet. “So,” he said. “How bad is it?”
Ian stared into the fire for a long moment before answering.
“Before I say anything,” he said slowly, “what I’m about to tell ye doesnae leave this room.”
Flynn lowered the goblet and met his gaze squarely. “Laird, me oath of loyalty to ye is in all things.”
Ian nodded once. “That includes silence.”
Flynn inclined his head. “Aye.”
Ian took another drink before speaking again. “I’ve been thinking about the contract.”
Flynn raised a brow. “The marriage contract?”
“Aye,” Ian said.
“What about it?” Flynn replied.
Ian stared down into the whisky swirling in his goblet. “I want to find a way to void it.”
Flynn froze. For several seconds, he simply stared at Ian as if he had misheard the words. Finally, he blinked and set his goblet down slowly.
“Void it?” he repeated.
“Aye.”
Flynn leaned forward, his expression stunned. “Does that mean ye nay longer wish to be married to Lady McGuire?”
Ian looked up sharply. “Nay,” he snapped. “Daenae be a bampot.”
Flynn lifted both hands in surrender. “Then what are ye saying?”
Ian exhaled heavily. “I wish to remain married to her,” he said firmly. “But with nay contract at all.”
Flynn blinked again. “That’s… quite a difference.”
“Aye.”
Flynn rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “And how exactly do ye plan to accomplish such a thing?”
Ian gave a dry laugh. “I havenae figured that out yet.”
Flynn shook his head slowly.
“Ye realize the council will fight ye on this.”
“I ken that,” Ian said. “But I am ruler here, nae the council.”
“They’ll warn ye it weakens yer leadership.”
Ian’s jaw clenched. “I daenae care.”
Flynn studied him carefully. “Most Lairds would.”
Ian turned toward the fire again, the flames reflecting faintly in his eyes.
“Most Lairds arenae trying to repair the trust of a wife who believes they married her for land, power, and betrayal.”
Ian took another drink, his thoughts drifting unwillingly back to Arianna.
The wounded disbelief in her voice still echoed painfully in his mind.
Her trust had taken weeks to build. Now it lay shattered between them.
And the worst part was knowing that the cursed contract had given her every reason to doubt him. Ian clenched his jaw.
Her trust mattered more than any strip of land or ancient debt between clans. Finally, he turned away from the fire.
“I need to speak with Alastair,” Ian said.
Flynn nodded. Ian crossed the room and pulled open the chamber door. A young maid passed through the corridor carrying folded linens.
“Ye there,” Ian called.
She stopped immediately and curtsied. “Aye, me Laird?”
“Find the steward,” Ian said. “Tell Alastair I wish to see him in me chamber.”
The maid nodded quickly.
“And bring us some food while ye’re at it,” Ian added.
“Aye, me Laird.”
She hurried away down the corridor. Ian closed the door and returned to the table. Flynn refilled their goblets while they waited. The whisky burned warmly down Ian’s throat, though it did little to ease the storm in his thoughts.
After several minutes, another knock sounded at the door.
Flynn rose from his chair. “That’ll be him.”
He opened the door to reveal Alastair standing in the corridor, his expression composed as always.
Flynn stepped aside. “Come in.”
Alastair entered the chamber and bowed respectfully. “Ye wished to see me, me Laird?”
Ian gestured toward the table. “Aye. There are matters of import to discuss.”
Alastair glanced briefly between the two men before stepping closer. “Is somethin' amiss?”
Ian reached for the whisky bottle but paused as another knock sounded.
Flynn chuckled softly. “Our food, nay doubt.”
He crossed the room and opened the door again. Two young maids entered carefully, each carrying a tray piled with food. The warm scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the chamber as they set the dishes upon the table.
One placed a pitcher of ale beside the trays along with several goblets.
Both women curtsied politely. “Will there be anything else, me Laird?”
“Nay,” Ian replied. “That will do.”
The maids left the room. Flynn shut the door behind them and returned to the table. Alastair looked slightly puzzled.
“Now,” the steward said calmly. “What exactly is this matter of importance?”
Ian met his gaze steadily. “It concerns the marriage contract between Clan McGuire and Clan McDonald.”
Alastair’s brows lifted slightly. “I suspected as much.”
Ian folded his arms. “I want to know every possible way that contract might be dissolved.”
The steward blinked in surprise. Flynn leaned back in his chair, watching the reaction carefully. Alastair cleared his throat slowly.
“That… would be a complicated matter, me Laird.”
Ian’s expression did not waver.
“Then we’d best begin discussin' it.”
Ian lifted a piece of bread from the tray. “Alastair,” he said, his voice low but sharp, “what we say here stays within these walls. If word of it reaches me by another tongue, I’ll ken it was ye, and yer head will hang upon a pike for all to see.” His gaze was unflinching.
The steward swallowed hard, the lines on his face deepening. “Aye, me Laird,” Alastair murmured, his throat dry. “Ye have me word. I swear it. Nay soul outside this room shall hear a whisper of what transpires here.” He clasped his hands before him, a gesture of both respect and fear.
Ian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Good. Then hear me well. I want ye to find a way to make that blasted contract null and void. Every clause, every signature, every scrap of parchment that gave it life, ye will hunt through all our manuscripts for a time when that was possible and how it was done.” He punctuated each word with a sharp glance that brooked no argument.
Alastair cleared his throat. “Me Laird, that could take months, or longer. The laws and history of this land are vast, and nae every contract has precedent.” He hesitated, wary of the storm in Ian’s gaze. “It may nae be as simple as ye think.”
“Listen to me, Alastair. I do nae wish to end me marriage to Lady McGuire. I want her here, beside me, but I will nae have this contract hanging over her, haunting her every step. I want her to live in peace, knowing she is free of threats this agreement might bring.”
Alastair swallowed again, his concern obvious. “I understand, me Laird… but the parchments, the histories… I daenae ken a way to…”
Ian’s eyes narrowed. “Enough excuses. Ye will find a way. I care nae if it takes weeks, months. Ye will scour the laws of this land. Every parchment, every manuscript, every dusty tome in every vault in this castle, ye will read them all until a path is found.” He leaned forward, voice rising slightly with urgency.
“Do ye ken the gravity of this? Lady McGuire’s trust, her peace of mind, is at stake.
I willnae wait idly while some old clause hangs over her head like a blade. ”
Alastair bowed deeply, his hands trembling just slightly. “Aye, me Laird. I will begin at once. I will search every record we possess. I understand the importance of this… and the need for secrecy.”
Ian took a long sip of whisky, letting the burn clear the tension from his throat.
“Good. Begin with the earliest agreements between the clans. Look for precedent in annulments, disputes, and forgotten clauses. Any loophole, any technicality that renders this contract void, ye will find it.” His eyes flashed.
“And Alastair, I expect diligence. Do nae return with half measures or tales of impossibility.”
Alastair inclined his head once more, a mixture of determination and fear in his gaze. “It will be as ye command, me Laird. I will report only when there is certainty, and nae before.”
Ian set down his goblet, letting the amber liquid catch the flicker of firelight.
“Aye. That is all I ask. Now get to it.” His tone brooked no refusal.
As Alastair departed, Ian’s jaw tightened, his mind turning to Arianna. He imagined her waking without worry, free from the shadow of this contract. The thought brought a rare, hard smile to his lips.
Flynn, who had been silently observing the exchange, finally leaned forward. “Ye truly wish this done, even if it weakens yer hold with the council?”
Ian’s gaze darkened. “Aye. I would sooner risk the council than see her believe I married to betray her family.”
He rose from his chair, “Now let him find the cracks. I will have her peace, and nothing else shall stand in the way.”
The chamber fell silent except for the crackling of the fire, the weight of Ian’s command settling over the room like a mantle of iron.