Page 113 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

“Nay.”

“Ceana took the map with her,” he said and looked down at the stone. “This was all I kept.”

The map lay inside Ceana’s traveling chest at Morrag. Tommy had saved the final piece from their last hunt, then organized another game that forced the household to join him.

His antics warranted punishment. A week cut off from supper and the goat would teach him that more comforts could be withheld.

“Paisley, give him the keys,” Oscar ordered.

Paisley placed the ring in Tommy’s hand.

“Ye will return those to Mairi and apologize. Then ye will help restore every task ye delayed. Games and ridin’ resume when Mairi says the work is finished. Do ye understand me?”

Tommy slid down from the chair. “Aye, Faither.” He carried the keys into the passage.

“I will help him,” Paisley said. She picked up her lesson book and held it against her waist.

“Ye will go back to yer lesson,” Mairi countered.

Paisley squared her narrow shoulders. “Someone must see that the stores open in the proper order and that the village women receive their grain.”

“I will see to it,” Mairi said. “Yer work is waitin’ for ye.”

After both children had gone, she rounded on Oscar. “We can manage the lad’s tricks, but we cannae manage a laird whose answer changes with his temper, me Laird. The servants are beginnin’ to fear ye again.”

The young guard’s tight face flashed before him. “That cannae be true.”

“The kitchen maids send every report through me, and half yer guards wait for Lennan to speak first.” Mairi lifted the papers tucked beneath her arm. “We are still usin’ this because the work proceeds cleanly.”

Ceana’s handwriting covered the household schedule, assigning petition hours and provisions alongside linen work and village requests. A new request for seed sat beneath Thursday’s duties, but its margin remained blank. Ceana would have added a quantity and the responsible servant’s name before she left the hall.

Mairi tucked the schedule beneath her arm and walked to the grain store.

Lennan found Oscar a while later in the passage. “Border patrol confirmed the peace treaty is holdin’, and all stock named in the agreement has been returned. Also, Angus’s guards have withdrawn from the crossin’, and travelers passed safely this mornin’. Our men verified each report.”

The report required Oscar’s seal. Increasing patrols would serve no purpose other than giving him another order to issue.

“Bring the mornin’ guard back to me.”

The young man returned several minutes later and stood at attention.

“I accused ye of failin’ the watch over a missin’ name,” Oscar began. “The watch was sound. I was wrong.”

“Aye, me Laird.” The guard’s shoulders remained stiff as he bowed and left.

Later that afternoon, Muriel came to the study carrying an open letter. Oscar recognized Ceana’s handwriting on the outer leaf as soon as he saw it.

“Is she safe?” he asked. “How is her pregnancy progressin’?”

“She is keepin’ more food down and resting. The healer attendin’ her sees no cause for concern at present. That is all anyone can promise.” Muriel refolded the page. “She asked after the children.”

Oscar watched as she tucked the letter in her pocket.

“The rest are just comments from the healer.”

Oscar pressed his palm against the desk. “Perhaps carryin’ the bairn frightened her. She may have judged MacKane unsafe.”

“Ceana didnae leave because she carries yer bairn, Braither.” Muriel walked out with the letter before he could speak again.