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.