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?”