Page 116 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

A MacKane tapestry hung at the field entrance. Fresh stitches closed a tear through the border mark.

“That is the one Bryce’s men cut down,” David commented. “Angus returned it with the stolen stock under the peace treaty.”

Ceana brushed her fingers over it before passing beneath it.

“Lady MacKane!”

The first greeting came from a woman carrying cups of ale. Others called their welcome as Ceana crossed the field. Men lifted their cups, and families stepped aside to clear the way. She accepted each greeting without correcting the title. After a little over a month at Morrag, the people here still counted her among them.

Elspeth Kerr reached her before she could linger, her face breaking into a broad smile.

“Ye came.”

“I said I would.”

“Aye, but promises become easier to forget when they require a journey.” Elspeth caught both of Ceana’s hands and squeezed them. “It is good to see ye again, me Lady. We wondered whether Morrag meant to keep ye.”

Ceana managed a smile. “Only for a little while.”

“Then they have had their turn.” Elspeth released one hand but kept the other, already drawing her farther onto the field. “Come. Ye have duties here, and I have spent three months tellin’ everyone our new Lady wouldnae abandon us when it came time to judge their foolishness.”

Ceana laughed despite herself. “Then I had better save yer reputation.”

“Precisely.”

As they walked, Ceana spotted the young mother who had spoken so cheerfully of the children she might have one day. The woman smiled in recognition and dipped her head as they passed.

Elspeth led Ceana toward the judges’ ground. “We kept yer place.”

Two older village women waited beside the chief judge’s chair, and Ceana remained standing while the rules were laid out.

“Every jumper starts from that stone,” the first woman said. “The trench remains the same width. An equally sized bundle of heather is added after each round.”

The second judge pointed toward the marked strip beyond the fire. “Touchin’ either fire stone spoils the jump, so does scatterin’ anythin’ aflame or landin’ inside that strip. The highest round cleared cleanly wins.”

“And when Lady MacKane presides,” Elspeth added, “the Laird enters for the closing leap. His jump counts the same as any other.”

Ceana walked the length of the trench before taking her chair. The early morning rain had left the turf slick beside the starting stone. She tested it beneath her shoe, then summoned an attendant.

“Spread grit here before the first man runs. Enough for every contestant to have firm ground.”

The attendants worked while the judges inspected each bundle of heather. Only when the ground was ready did Ceana sit down and look across the field.

Oscar stood beyond the fire with Lennan. Paisley and Tommy were absent. She saw no sign of Mairi or Muriel either. She swept her gaze across the people behind Oscar once before fixing it on him.

He had worn no ceremonial finery. His plaid was fastened at the shoulder, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his forearms. A month apart had sharpened her awareness of his height and the strength of his hands.

Her next breath caught midway into her lungs.

Those hands had hauled her out of the loch. They had held her firmly beside the water while his mouth took hers. They had also closed around her fingers in their bed while the two of them conceived the child in her belly.

Ceana curled her fingers into her skirt.

Oscar caught her looking. His gaze moved over her face, then lowered to the altered waist of her gown and the hand resting near it. He went still as his grip tightened on the edge of his plaid.

The first jumper cleared the trench cleanly, eliciting a roar from the crowd. The wager boy darted between groups, shouting new odds as another bundle was added.

During the next round, a favored contestant rose above the flames and came down beyond the marked strip. His heel struck the right boundary stone before he regained his balance.