Chapter 5
Later that evening, Ceana followed the housekeeper down the upper corridor with her freshly washed hair hanging damp against her back.
The borrowed gown fit well enough, though its unfamiliar sleeves rubbed the scrapes on her palm and the clean fabric beneath it pressed against muscles made sore by the journey. A warm bath, food, and an hour beside the chamber fire had softened her exhaustion.
The elderly housekeeper walked at a steady pace. Her ring of keys and the authority with which servants moved aside suggested she had served at MacKane Castle long enough to command most of it without raising her voice.
“Master Tommy has asked twice whether ye will be at breakfast,” she revealed as they approached the stairs. “He also wishes to ken when ye will visit Ness.”
Ceana curled her hand into her skirt. “His faither may decide I am too dangerous for breakfast.”
The housekeeper glanced at her. “The boy has met many people brought here by his faither. He has asked after only a few of them.”
“I see,” Ceana uttered, though it still bothered her how Tommy’s obedience continued to be a huge matter.
They reached the study door, and the housekeeper knocked before opening it. “Lady Ceana has traveled through the night, me Laird. She requires rest.”
“This will take only as long as she requires,” Oscar assured her.
The housekeeper stepped in far enough to place a second cup beside the whisky decanter, and the look she gave him carried a familiarity few people seemed willing to show him. She withdrew without another word and closed the door behind Ceana.
The quiet click of the lock left her alone with Oscar.
His study was larger than the festival tent, though the same discipline seemed to surround it. Ledgers lay aligned on a broad desk, and maps had been secured flat beneath polished stones.
A locked chest stood near the wall, and two swords rested on a rack within easy reach. The only object that seemed to have wandered into the room without any purpose was a small carved horse beside the inkpot, its legs cut at uneven lengths.
Oscar stood near the desk with a cup of whisky.
His sword belt and traveling coat had been discarded.
A dark waistcoat fitted closely across his shoulders, and the sleeves of his linen shirt followed the solid shape of his forearms. Rest had restored Ceana’s ability to notice how thoroughly he filled his clothes. She resented the improvement.
Focus, Ceana. Focus.
“Whisky?” he asked, indicating the second cup.
Ceana considered refusing but realized that standing before him with empty hands would leave him free to see how unsettled the closed door made her.
“A small amount,” she responded instead.
Oscar poured without comment and held out the cup. Ceana took it without touching his fingers, and the whisky burned across her tongue and settled warmly in her chest. She kept her face composed while he watched her drink.
“The contract is there,” he said.
A sheet of parchment waited at the center of the desk. Ceana approached and saw Daphne’s name struck through with one precise line. Her own had been written above it in a firm hand.
Ceana Tulloch.
“Ye amended this yerself,” she remarked.
Oscar shrugged. “I prefer to read important terms before signin’ me name beneath them.”
Ceana set down her whisky and leaned over the parchment. It remained a working draft, with space left for additions and formal witnesses.
The contract, named Clan Morrag, promised MacKane protection once a marriage had been properly declared. Another clause granted her authority over her personal attendants and the women serving in the household.
The document could not be used to marry her off without her agreement. It could make refusal far more difficult once her father received it.
“Why are ye continuin’ with this?” she asked. “Ye took me because ye believed I was Angus’s bride. I am neither his bride nor useful leverage.”
“I still need a wife.”
That made her look up. Oscar stood across the desk with one hand resting beside the parchment.
“Why?”
“MacKane Castle needs a lady.”
“If ye require someone to watch Tommy, employ a governess.”
Oscar lifted his cup. “Ye seem to be the only woman capable of survivin’ him.”
Ceana laughed before she could stop herself. The sound was too loud for the quiet room, and she covered her mouth with one hand. Oscar’s cup paused halfway to his lips.
“Survive Tommy?” she snorted. “He is five years old.”
“He has sent away three governesses.”
Her laughter returned. “Three?”
“And two women I considered marryin’.”
Ceana pictured Tommy standing before a procession of severe women, his innocent smile concealing whatever plan had sent each one fleeing from MacKane Castle. She gripped the edge of the desk as laughter shook through her again.
Oscar watched her with a stillness that made her aware of how rarely sound might enter this room. He did not appear offended. The faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested that he understood the absurdity and refused to grant it more than that.
“What did he do to them?” she asked.
“That question would require a longer discussion.”
Ceana tried to control herself and failed when Oscar remained entirely serious. “Perhaps ye should stop allowin’ him access to wooden toys and unattended animals.”
“Trust me, I had considered that.”
She looked at him. “But ye encouraged him, did ye nae?”
Oscar blinked. “What?”
“Please. I can see it in yer eyes. Ye disliked the women.”
Oscar took a measured sip. “That doesnae prove I was involved.”
“Well, it proves ye arenae innocent.”
His gaze held hers over the rim of his cup. “Ye are remarkably comfortable accusin’ a laird in his own study.”
“Ye kidnapped me. We’re past comfort.”
Her humor ebbed as she looked again at the contract.
Three governesses and two prospective brides had entered Tommy’s life and disappeared from it.
The maid searching her new chamber had treated the child’s tricks as an expected hazard.
Paisley had greeted her father with the formal care of someone determined to cause no difficulty.
Whatever Tommy had done, he had watched women arrive, judge his behavior, and leave. Ceana could understand the need beneath the mischief without approving the danger of his tricks.
Oscar set down his cup. “A governess cannae serve the clan publicly. I require a lady capable of managin’ the household and standin’ beside me when duty requires it. Me children need someone they can trust.”
“And ye believe that person is me because Tommy sat when I asked him to?”
“He listened to ye more in one day than he listens to most people in a month.”
Ceana could see what Oscar would gain. The contract would give him a lady for his castle and someone willing to care for his children. It would also mend the insult he had caused by carrying a Morrag daughter from the festival.
She lifted her whisky and took another small sip before placing the cup beside the parchment. The warmth helped steady her voice.
“Marriage gives ye everythin’ ye require,” she said. “But what does it give me?”
Oscar’s attention settled fully on her. Ceana rested both hands on the desk and held his gaze across the contract bearing her name.
“What do ye offer me, me Laird?”
Oscar’s hand shifted beside the contract, though his gaze remained on her. The fire crackled behind him and warmed the side of her borrowed gown while she waited for an answer to the question he had avoided since the festival.
“As Lady MacKane, ye would be protected from any match arranged without yer consent,” he began. “Nay man would lay claim to ye even with Clan Morrag’s agreement.”
Ceana almost laughed. “Unwanted matches have never troubled me.”
Oscar lifted his cup. “Then ye have been fortunate.”
“Me Laird, ye daenae understand.” She kept both hands on the desk, giving them a steady place to rest. “I am already unwanted.”
She let the words hang between them.
Marriage offers had always arrived for Daphne. Contracts named her, and visiting men had watched her while Ceana sat close enough to hear them discuss beauty and heirs. She had always disappeared into the background and only recently had decided to stop having a problem with it.
Oscar set down his whisky. His gaze moved over Ceana’s face and then slowly lowered to the borrowed gown before returning to her eyes. Heat crept up her cheeks, and the fabric suddenly felt too tight.
“I find that hard to believe,” he said, and the certainty in his voice unsettled her more than anything. For one brief moment, she actually believed he meant it.
“MacKane lands are far from Morrag,” she replied. “I suppose news travels slowly.”
“What news would make a man overlook—” Oscar stopped. His fingers tightened once around the edge of the desk before he released it. “Ye asked what I offer. How about I help ye find yer sister?”
Ceana swallowed and felt the room close in on her. How had she not thought of that before?
She took a breath. “And how do ye intend to do that?”
Oscar raised a hand, gesturing to the path outside the castle. “I have men and allies along the roads from the festival. They can search without declarin’ Daphne a fugitive or deliverin’ her to Angus.”
Ceana folded her arms across her chest. This was a nice proposition, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “And when ye find her?”
Oscar’s expression did not shift. “That depends on what she wants.”
“What if, say, she wants to remain hidden?”
“Then she will remain hidden.”
“Even if Angus demands her return?”
“Ye seem to overestimate how much power Angus has compared to me.”
Ceana searched his face for hesitation and found none. “Me faither may demand her return as well.”
“He may speak with me about that as well.”
She frowned, deciding to press further. “And what if Daphne wants to live somewhere else?”
“Then me protection will extend there. If she prefers MacKane Castle, she may live here without takin’ a husband.”
The guarded walls Ceana had entered that morning took on another meaning. She pictured Daphne passing through the gate alive, free from Angus’s claim and protected from the contract their father feared breaking. She had tried to buy her sister a single day. Oscar offered to give her a future.
“What do ye expect from me beyond managin’ Tommy?” she asked.
Oscar looked toward the parchment. “We will share public duties and responsibility for the household. Ye will have authority over yer attendants and the servants assigned to ye. Ye may correspond with Clan Morrag.”
Ceana heard the limit clearly. “Until then, I remain yer captive.”
“That word sounds so serious, do ye nae think?”
She disliked the answer, though he had made no effort to disguise it.
“What kind of marriage do ye intend to have?” she pressed. “Because all I’ve heard so far is a lady for yer castle and a guardian for yer children.”
Oscar held her gaze. “That is accurate.”
She hated how his honesty chafed at her.
“We will keep separate chambers and separate private lives,” he continued. “I have nay need for a wife to care for beyond the duties we agree upon.”
Ceana’s fingers curled against her chest. “How convenient for ye.”
“It will protect both of us from expectations neither has chosen.”
“What expectations?”
“More children.” His voice remained level. “I already have an heir. I willnae ask ye to provide another, and I willnae come to yer bed for that purpose.”
That struck a place Ceana had kept hidden even from Daphne.
She had believed her inability to bear children would prevent any man from choosing her.
Oscar had removed that obstacle while confirming that their marriage would contain none of the tenderness or children she had trained herself to stop wanting.
“I wouldnae worry about that,” she said, bitterness sharpening the words before she could smooth them away.
Oscar’s eyes narrowed, and his hand paused near the contract. “What do ye mean?”
Ceana reached for her whisky again and took a small sip. The burn gave her time to turn her attention toward the parchment. “I mean ye have stated yer terms. I am considerin’ them.”
Returning home would expose Daphne. Remaining gave Ceana protection and a place beside two children who had already begun asking whether she would stay. The price was a marriage stripped of every hope she believed was beyond her reach anyway.
She set the cup down. “Any message to me faither must say that I agreed after negotiatin’ with ye. He must ken that I am safe.”
Oscar nodded his head. “Agreed.”
“Ye will search for Daphne and protect her wherever she chooses to live.”
“Aye.”
“Ye will refuse any attempt to force her into marriage, whether it comes from Angus, his faither, or mine.”
“Me word stands.”
Ceana drew a breath. “Then I accept the proposed marriage on those terms.”
Oscar’s attention sharpened. “Ye agree freely?”
“Aye. On the terms we have named.”
He extended his hand across the contract, and Ceana placed hers in it. His palm was broad and rough, warmed by the fire and the cup he had held earlier.
The handshake should have ended at once, but neither of them released the other.
Ceana felt her pulse beneath the fingers resting against her wrist. The closed door and late hour returned to her awareness as Oscar watched her across the parchment. His thumb shifted once against her knuckles, a movement small enough to have been accidental.
She withdrew her hand first and held it against her waist.
“A final copy will be prepared at first light,” Oscar said. “It will state yer consent and the terms we agreed upon. Formal declarations and witnesses will follow.”
Ceana nodded and then left.
The housekeeper waited a short distance down the passageway, her attention moving from Ceana’s warm face to the closed door behind her.
“Do ye require anythin’, me Lady?” she asked.
“Sleep. Lots of it.”
The older woman touched her arm briefly before leading her toward the stairs.
Ceana kept one hand closed around the one Oscar had shaken. Before she reached the first step, his voice carried from the study as he summoned Lennan and ordered the final contract prepared at dawn.
There was no going back now.