Page 119 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

Paisley sat within that word, frowning over one of her careful questions. Tommy’s treasure map lay open beneath his small hands. Ceana remembered Mairi bent over the household ledgers at her worktable and Ness waiting on the carriage step as though the goat could prevent a departure through sheer stubbornness alone.

The chamber she had shared with Oscar belonged there too. So did the empty hand she had ignored before leaving MacKane Castle, and the accusation that had driven her away.

Her fingers twitched against her belly.

“If I come home, the hurt comes with me,” she warned. “It hasnae disappeared.”

“I understand.”

“If I return, I return with our bairn. I willnae step into that castle and watch our child be received as a disaster.”

“Our bairn is very much wanted at the castle.”

“An apology cannae supply all the proof I need.” Ceana watched his expression as she continued. “What ye do after tonight will tell me whether I can trust ye when fear takes hold again or nae.”

Oscar accepted the condition with a quick nod. “Aye. Ye should judge me by what I do.”

He raised his hand to her face, then stopped halfway.

“May I?”

Ceana looked at the space between them. She had already received the answers she needed before she crossed it. So the only thing to do was to step within his reach.

Oscar’s gaze flicked to her mouth. His jaw tightened, and his breath deepened as his hand dropped back to his side. He leaned toward her, every inch of him aching to touch her. Then his lips pressed against her forehead.

The brief contact caught her breath high in her chest, and her fingers curled as a low pulse began between her thighs. One month without him had sharpened her need, but now wasn’t the time to do anything about it.

Eventually, Oscar stepped back. Then he held out his hand, palm up. Ceana took it, and his fingers closed only after hers had settled in his palm.

“Aye,” she said, her voice low. “I will come home.”

CHAPTER 30

Oscar rapped twice against the carriage ceiling.

“Stop here.”

Ceana looked out the window, expecting to find a broken wheel or a rider approaching with news.

Lennan had already raised one hand to halt the escort. The men spread out along the road, far enough from the carriage to give them privacy.

“What has happened?” Ceana asked.

“Nothin’. We have traveled long enough without rest.”

“We stopped less than an hour ago.”

Oscar opened the door. “Then ye shouldnae need long before we continue.”

The carriage had the best springs available, though the slower pace scarcely tested them. Thick blankets covered the seat beneath Ceana, and cushions protected her back from every jolt. A cup of water stood within reach beside small parcels of food Oscar had ordered packed before they left the festival.

He examined the remaining parcels. “What can ye tolerate? Oatcake or dried apple?”

“Dried apple.”

Oscar passed it to her without pressuring her to take more. Since their departure, he had watched her face whenever the wheels struck uneven ground. His attention followed each change in her breathing and every movement of her hands. Their knees brushed often, though he had made no attempt to kiss her.

He stepped down and offered her his hand. Ceana could have managed the low step alone, but she placed her fingers in his because she wanted to feel his skin against hers.