Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
"Malcolm, I need ye tae send word tae the MacKenzie chief. Tell him we're interested in discussin' terms fer the trade."
The door to David's study flew open without warning.
David's head snapped up, his hand instinctively moving toward the dirk he kept on his desk.
No one entered his study like that. Ever. His guards knew better. His Council knocked. Even Tristan had the sense to knock.
Elinor stood in the doorway, her chin lifted, her eyes flashing with something between determination and anger.
"We need to talk," she announced.
David stared at her for a moment, his mind struggling to shift from trade negotiations to whatever storm had just blown into his office. Malcolm bowed and quietly left the room.
Around him, papers covered his desk. Agreements with neighboring clans, ledgers tracking winter stores, correspondence about grain shipments that needed to be finalized before the first snow.
"Ye cannae just barge intae me study," he said finally.
"Can't I?" She stepped fully inside, closing the door behind her with a decisive click. "I thought that was how things worked in this castle. People just walking into rooms without warning."
Understanding dawned. David felt heat creep up his neck. "That was different."
"Different how?"
"That is me bedchamber. Our bedchamber." He set down his quill with deliberate care. "I've a right tae enter me own room."
"And I have a right to privacy when I'm bathing." She crossed her arms. "Which you violated."
"I didnae ken ye were still in the bath."
"That's why people knock."
"I told ye, I dinnae knock before enterin' me own chambers."
"Then maybe you should start!" Her voice rose slightly, echoing off the stone walls.
David glanced toward the door, acutely aware that his guards were stationed just outside. That servants passed through the corridor regularly. That this conversation was probably being overheard by half the castle.
"Lower yer voice," he said quietly.
"Don't tell me what to do."
"I'm nae tellin' ye what tae dae. I'm askin' ye tae be mindful that we have an audience."
That seemed to give her pause. Some of the fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced by calculation. She moved closer to his desk, her voice dropping to something just above a whisper.
"Fine. Then let's discuss this quietly." She planted her hands on his desk, leaning forward. "We're married now. Living in the same castle. Sharing the same bedchamber, apparently. And we need rules."
"Rules." David leaned back in his chair, studying her. She'd changed since yesterday's bath. Her hair was properly pinned, her gown fresh and neatly laced.
She looked every inch the lady she was supposed to be. Except for the stubborn set of her jaw and the way her fingers pressed into his desk like she was resisting the urge to throw something at him.
"Yes. Rules." She straightened slightly. "First, no kissing."
David's eyebrows rose. "Nay kissin'."
"Not unless it's absolutely necessary for appearances."
"And who decides what's necessary?"
"I do."
"That seems rather one-sided."
"You bought me at an auction," she said flatly. "I think I'm entitled to set some boundaries."
Fair point. David gestured for her to continue.
"Second, no touching."
"Nay touchin'," he repeated slowly.
"Not in private. In public, for show, fine. But when it's just us––" She paused, and he saw color rise in her cheeks. "You keep your hands to yourself."
David thought about the inn. About the way she'd trembled when he'd touched her spine. The way her breath had caught when his hand had moved to her stomach. The way she'd said yes and then no to using a favor, and how her body had responded.
"And third," Elinor continued, her voice stronger now, "you knock before entering any room I'm in. Every time. No exceptions."
"Even our shared bedchamber?"
"Especially our shared bedchamber."
David studied her for a long moment. She was serious. Dead serious, from the rigid set of her shoulders to the way she wouldn't quite meet his eyes.
"Is that everythin'?" he asked mildly.
"No." She took a breath. "I want my own room. A space that's just mine. Where I can go when I need to be alone."
"We already have a bedchamber."
"A bedchamber that's yours that you're letting me share. I want something that's mine."
"This is yer home now, lass. The entire castle is yers."
"That's not what I mean." Her hands curled into fists on his desk. "I mean a room with a door I can close. Where no one will disturb me. Where I can––" she stopped, seeming to struggle for words. "Where I can breathe."
The last word came out softer. Almost vulnerable.
David felt something twist in his chest. He thought about her father's house. About the auction. About being dragged from one situation to another with no control, no choice, no space to simply exist.
"Alright," he said.
She blinked. "Alright?"
"Aye. Ye can have a room."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." He picked up his quill again, dipping it in ink. "I'll have Malcolm find ye somethin' suitable. Somewhere quiet, away from the main halls."
Elinor stared at him like she'd expected a fight. Like his easy agreement had completely disarmed her.
"And the other rules?" she asked carefully.
David set down the quill again. Met her eyes directly. "Is this one of yer favors?"
He watched her process the question. Saw her remember their negotiation at the inn. The three favors she'd demanded in exchange for helping him lie to the Duke.
"What if it is?" she asked slowly.
"Then I'll agree tae yer terms. All of them.
Nay kissin' unless ye deem it necessary.
Nay touchin' in private. Knockin' before I enter any room ye're in.
And a room of yer own." He leaned forward slightly.
"But if it's nae one of yer favors, if ye're just makin' demands without willin' tae pay the price, then we negotiate. "
"Negotiate what?"
"The terms. Maybe I agree to knock most of the time but nae all the time. Maybe the nay-touchin' rule has exceptions. Because there’s nay way I’m agreein’ tae all those rules."
"It's a favor," she interrupted.
David went still. "Ye're sure? Ye only have three."
"I'm sure."
He studied her face, looking for doubt. For hesitation. Found only determination and something that looked almost like desperation.
Whatever had driven her to his study, whatever had made her demand those rules, it mattered to her. Deeply.
"Alright then," he said quietly. "Ye have me word. I'll honor yer rules."
Some of the tension left her shoulders. "Thank you."
"But I want somethin' in return."
Her eyes narrowed. "We already agreed on terms. A favor means no questions, no negotiations."
"This isnae about the favor." He stood, moving around the desk until he was close enough to see the faint shadows under her eyes.
Close enough to smell the lavender soap she'd used in her bath.
"I want yer word that ye'll tell me if somethin's wrong.
If someone's botherin' ye. If ye need help with anythin'. "
"I can take care of myself."
"I ken that. But ye're me wife now. Me responsibility. And I take me responsibilities seriously." He kept his voice level, reasonable. "So I'm askin'… if somethin' happens, if ye're in trouble, come tae me. Even if it means breakin' one of yer rules tae dae it."
Elinor was quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Alright."
"Ye give me yer word?"
"I give you my word."
"Good." He stepped back, putting proper distance between them again. "Now, was there anythin' else? Or can I return tae convincin' the MacKenzies that our grain prices are reasonable?"
A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "That's all. For now."
She turned to leave, her skirts swishing around her ankles. But at the door, she paused.
"David?"
"Aye?"
"Why did you agree so easily?" She looked back at him, genuine curiosity in her eyes. "You could have argued. Made it difficult. But you didn't."
David thought about how to answer that. About whether to tell her the truth, that he understood what it was like to have no control. To be pulled in directions you didn't choose by people who thought they owned you.
"Because ye asked," he said simply. "And because ye're me wife. If ye need rules tae feel safe here, then ye'll have them."
Something shifted in her expression. Softened around the edges.
"Thank you," she said again. Quieter this time. More genuine.
Then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.
David stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. Then he returned to his desk, to his trade agreements and ledgers and correspondence.
But the numbers didn't make sense anymore. His mind kept drifting back to pale green eyes and the desperate note in her voice.
He'd given her rules. Boundaries. Space.
But what he really wanted to know was why she needed them so badly.
What had happened in her father's house that made her so desperate for control now?
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Come in."
Tristan entered, his expression serious. "A messenger just arrived. From His Grace."
David's stomach dropped. "Already?"
"Aye." Tristan held out a sealed letter, the royal crest pressed into red wax. "He said it was urgent."
David took the letter, feeling the weight of it in his hand. Nothing good ever came in urgent messages from kings.
He broke the seal, unfolding the parchment. Tristan waited silently while David read, his eyes tracking across the elegant script.
Laird MacDonald,
It has come tae Our attention that rumors have begun tae circulate regarding the circumstances of yer recent marriage.
These rumors suggest that yer union with Lady Elinor Royse was nae, as ye claimed, the result of a long-standing betrothal, but rather a hasty arrangement designed tae circumvent Our explicit instructions regarding yer choice of bride.
We are writing tae inform ye that We take such allegations most seriously.
If it is determined that ye have willfully deceived Us, that yer marriage was contracted in bad faith and with the deliberate intent tae defy Our command, We will have nay choice but tae convene a formal inquiry intae the matter.
Should such an inquiry find evidence of deception, ye will be subject tae trial and subsequent punishment as We deem appropriate. This may include, but is nae limited tae, the annulment of yer marriage, seizure of lands, and imprisonment.
We expect ye tae conduct yerself with the utmost propriety in the coming weeks. Any further rumors or irregularities will be viewed most unfavorably.
We remain watchful.
His Majesty's Regent, acting on behalf of King James V.
David read it twice. Then a third time, as though the words might change if he looked at them long enough.
They didn't.
"What daes it say?" Tristan asked quietly.
David handed him the letter without speaking, and watched his friend's face grow progressively grimmer as he read.
"Christ," Tristan muttered when he finished. "He kens. Or suspects, at least."
"Someone's been talkin'." David moved to the window, staring out at the valley below. His valley. His lands. His clan. All of it potentially at risk because he'd been too proud to accept the Regent’s choice of bride. "Langley, maybe. Or someone from the auction."
"What are ye goin' tae dae
"What can I dae?" David turned back to face his friend. "We're already married. The deed's done. All I can dae now is make sure our story holds."
"And if it daesnae?"
"Then it'll be disastrous." David thought of Elinor, upstairs in their bedchamber or maybe exploring her new home. Unaware that the fragile safety he'd promised her was already crumbling. "The Duke could annul the marriage. Send her back tae her faither or marry her off tae someone else. And me…"
He didn't finish. They both knew what happened to men who deceived kings.
"The Cèilidh," Tristan said suddenly. "That's why the Council was so insistent, aye? They must have heard whispers too. If ye throw a proper celebration, make the marriage look solid and legitimate..."
"It might be enough tae quiet the rumors." David nodded slowly. "Or it might just give the Regent’s spies a chance tae dig deeper."
"What choice dae ye have?"
None. That was the truth of it. He had no choice but to push forward, to pray their lies held, to hope that Elinor was a good enough actress to convince an entire clan - and possibly royal observers - that their marriage was real.
"I need tae tell her," David said.
"Tell her what?"
"About the letter. About the danger." He moved toward the door. "She deserves tae ken what's comin'."
"David." Tristan's voice stopped him. "Are ye sure? Ye could handle this yerself. Protect her from kennin' how precarious things are."
"She's already in the middle of it. She has a right tae ken the truth.
" David thought about the rules she'd just demanded.
The need for control, for honesty, for space to breathe.
"Besides, if this goes wrong, she'll be the one payin' the price alongside me.
She should at least ken what she's facin'. "
Tristan nodded slowly. "Then I'll leave ye tae it. But David? Be careful how ye tell her. The lass is strong, but she's been through enough already."
"I ken that."
"Dae ye?" Tristan's expression was serious. "Because it looks like ye're about tae tell yer wife that the fragile safety ye promised her might be shattered at any moment. That cannae be an easy conversation."
"None of this is easy," David said quietly. "But it's necessary."
“Aye, me laird.”
He left his study, the Regent’s letter clutched in his hand, still thinking of how to tell his wife that their lies had caught his attention.
And that the consequences might be worse than either of them had imagined.