Page 18 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

“Marriage gives ye everythin’ ye require,” she said. “But what does it give me?”

Oscar’s attention settled fully on her. Ceana rested both hands on the desk and held his gaze across the contract bearing her name.

“What do ye offer me, me Laird?”

Oscar’s hand shifted beside the contract, though his gaze remained on her. The fire crackled behind him and warmed the side of her borrowed gown while she waited for an answer to the question he had avoided since the festival.

“As Lady MacKane, ye would be protected from any match arranged without yer consent,” he began. “Nay man would lay claim to ye even with Clan Morrag’s agreement.”

Ceana almost laughed. “Unwanted matches have never troubled me.”

Oscar lifted his cup. “Then ye have been fortunate.”

“Me Laird, ye daenae understand.” She kept both hands on the desk, giving them a steady place to rest. “I am already unwanted.”

She let the words hang between them.

Marriage offers had always arrived for Daphne. Contracts named her, and visiting men had watched her while Ceana sat close enough to hear them discuss beauty and heirs. She had always disappeared into the background and only recently had decided to stop having a problem with it.

Oscar set down his whisky. His gaze moved over Ceana’s face and then slowly lowered to the borrowed gown before returning to her eyes. Heat crept up her cheeks, and the fabric suddenly felt too tight.

“I find that hard to believe,” he said, and the certainty in his voice unsettled her more than anything. For one brief moment, she actually believed he meant it.

“MacKane lands are far from Morrag,” she replied. “I suppose news travels slowly.”

“What news would make a man overlook—” Oscar stopped. His fingers tightened once around the edge of the desk before he released it. “Ye asked what I offer. How about I help ye find yer sister?”

Ceana swallowed and felt the room close in on her. How had she not thought of that before?

She took a breath. “And how do ye intend to do that?”

Oscar raised a hand, gesturing to the path outside the castle. “I have men and allies along the roads from the festival. They can search without declarin’ Daphne a fugitive or deliverin’ her to Angus.”

Ceana folded her arms across her chest. This was a nice proposition, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “And when ye find her?”

Oscar’s expression did not shift. “That depends on what she wants.”

“What if, say, she wants to remain hidden?”

“Then she will remain hidden.”

“Even if Angus demands her return?”

“Ye seem to overestimate how much power Angus has compared to me.”

Ceana searched his face for hesitation and found none. “Me faither may demand her return as well.”

“He may speak with me about that as well.”

She frowned, deciding to press further. “And what if Daphne wants to live somewhere else?”

“Then me protection will extend there. If she prefers MacKane Castle, she may live here without takin’ a husband.”

The guarded walls Ceana had entered that morning took on another meaning. She pictured Daphne passing through the gate alive, free from Angus’s claim and protected from the contract their father feared breaking. She had tried to buy her sister a single day. Oscar offered to give her a future.

“What do ye expect from me beyond managin’ Tommy?” she asked.

Oscar looked toward the parchment. “We will share public duties and responsibility for the household. Ye will have authority over yer attendants and the servants assigned to ye. Ye may correspond with Clan Morrag.”