Page 114 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

Oscar exhaled and walked to the chamber he and Ceana had shared for a while. A gust of fresh air drifted in through the open shutters. The fireplace had been swept, and the bed remained unused because when he laid his hand on the linen, only cold met his palm.

Only a faint trace of Ceana’s scent remained on the pillow.

He remembered her writhing beneath him on their wedding night, their fingers intertwined as he thrust into her. As he planted his seed inside her. He also remembered her asleep beneath the blanket, with Paisley against her side and Tommy sprawled across her legs.

He left before he could reach for the green ribbon she had left behind. It was one of the few things she had left behind in her room before she left, and he had brought it to his. Back in the study, he drew a clean sheet toward him and wrote, Wife, come home.

His hand stopped. Even alone, he had begun by telling her what to do.

He fed the page to the fireplace and began again. The second letter told her of the blood he saw whenever he thought of childbirth. It described what losing her would do to him.

He read it back. Six sentences began with I.

Good God, ye arenae really good at this.

All he did was give her another account of himself. He didn’t think for long after that before he tore the sheet and threw it into the fire. A third page lay before him, and he set the quill right beside it. The page remained blank.

After supper, two candles and the low fire provided enough light for him to stare at the blank sheet before him. A knock sounded at the door.

“May I enter, Faither?”

Oscar straightened. Paisley seldom waited for permission at this hour, and her careful words concerned him more than an interruption would have.

“Aye, come in.”

She opened the door but did not step inside. Her night rail showed beneath her robe, and her loose hair fell over one shoulder. She kept both hands clasped before her.

“Why are ye still awake?” he asked.

“I have been thinkin’ about the promise I asked ye to make before ye married Ceana.”

Oscar rose from the desk. When Paisley still did not approach, he rounded his desk and lowered himself so she no longer had to speak to him across a broad stretch of oak.

“I daenae think Ceana would have let us go,” she said. “I shouldnae have made ye promise that there wouldnae be other bairns.”

“Come here, lass.”

She crossed the study slowly and stopped within his reach. Oscar took her cold hand between both of his.

“Ceana didnae leave because of ye.”

“I asked for the promise.”

“Ye were frightened. The promise was mine to make, and the harm was mine to cause.”

Paisley studied their joined hands. “I thought if she had a baby of her own, she would love it more and send Tommy and me away.”

Oscar squeezed her hand. “Ceana loves ye both. She has shown ye that often enough.”

“I ken that now.”

“She protected yer place in this family from the day she joined it. The bairn wouldnae change what ye are to her.”

Paisley looked toward the empty chair near the fire. “Will she come back?”

“I daenae ken.”

Her fingers shifted within his. Oscar could have offered reassurance. A promise from him would give Paisley comfort for the night, yet Ceana’s future no longer belonged among the things he could pledge.