Page 10 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

“I will handle Angus.”

The certainty of his answer tempted her to believe him. Oscar possessed the power to make such a promise more than empty comfort, though he had also created the immediate danger.

Beyond the tent, harness buckles clinked, and wheels shifted across the uneven ground. The carriage preparations continued. He had heard the truth and had yet to cancel the order.

Ceana had destroyed his reason for taking her. All that remained was for him to acknowledge his mistake and let her go.

Because he had no use for her. Not even one bit.

Right?

Instead, he held her gaze while the carriage wheels rolled across the ground outside. He had heard her confession, yet the men continued preparing to leave as though nothing had changed. Lennan remained standing beside the tent entrance with the message for Angus still in his hand, waiting for an order.

“When did Daphne flee?” Oscar asked.

“Like I said earlier, me Laird, last night. I found her tent empty before dawn.”

“Did she take a horse?”

“I daenae ken. I told ye she left nay explanation.”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed. “Think carefully.”

“I have done little else since she disappeared.” Ceana kept her voice level, though frustration tightened her throat. “If I kent where she had gone, I would be searchin’ for her instead of standin’ inside yer tent.”

His attention shifted toward Lennan. Ceana expected him to cancel the carriage and destroy the message intended for Angus. Lennan seemed to expect the same.

Before either man moved, a rope creaked near the side of the tent. Tommy had wandered away from the adults. He had wrapped both hands around one of the taut support ropes and placed his boot against a fastening knot. With a determined pull, he lifted himself off the ground.

Ceana turned fully toward him. “Tommy.”

The boy glanced over his shoulder while keeping his weight on the rope. “The MacKane warriors climb the castle walls durin’ trainin’. Faither says I can learn when I am older.”

The rope strained beneath him. He had already climbed high enough that a fall would drive him onto one of the wooden stakes securing the tent. If he loosened the knot beneath his foot, half the canvas wall could collapse.

“Sweetness, come down,” Ceana coaxed. She kept her tone calm and crossed only far enough to stand beneath him. “That rope is holdin’ the tent. Ness will need ye uninjured durin’ the journey.”

Tommy looked toward Oscar. Every man inside the tent now watched him, and pride stiffened the boy’s small shoulders. Ceana expected an argument. Instead, he lowered one foot, found the ground, and released the rope.

The guards stopped moving. Lennan stared at Tommy, then at Ceana. Even Oscar’s expression shifted as his gaze settled on his son.

One of the men near the entrance muttered, “He never listens the first time.”

As Oscar turned his head, the guard closed his mouth and lowered his gaze to the floor.

Tommy came to Ceana with his hands folded before him. His pleased expression suggested he understood that he had done something worthy of notice, though she could not understand why several armed men seemed to think some ordinary obedience was a feat.

“What a good bairn,” she cooed.

She crouched and checked his palms for rope burns. The skin remained unmarked, and his knees showed no fresh scrapes. She gently pinched one cheek before releasing him.

“Ye arenae like yer faither at all.”

Tommy laughed.

Oscar’s eyes narrowed, though the faint twitch near his mouth left Ceana uncertain whether he had taken offense or not.

“I am like Faither,” Tommy declared. “I can climb almost as high as he can.”