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.”