Page 26 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

Oscar coughed, knowing very well where this was going. “I daenae think I have the time because of work and⁠—”

Tommy’s face fell. Paisley lowered her gaze, though she had been standing straighter a moment earlier. Ceana said nothing. She merely waited beside the fire with one hand extended toward the girl.

Oscar rose before he had properly decided to move. He stopped in front of Ceana and offered his hand. She studied it for a moment. Perhaps she remembered how their palms had clung together when they had made the bargain in this room. When she accepted his hand, the warmth of her skin seeped into his fingers.

Paisley began humming a familiar tune. Oscar set his other hand on Ceana’s waist. Her gown yielded beneath his palm, allowing him to feel the shape beneath the fabric. He kept the first steps formal and measured.

“Turn on the next count,” he said.

“I ken when to turn.”

“Then why are ye waitin’?”

“To see whether ye can lead without issuin’ commands.”

Tommy snickered as Oscar guided Ceana into the turn. Her skirts brushed his boots, and she returned to him with flawless timing. Her hand settled more securely in his as he drew her through the next figure, conscious of her warmth and the light pressure of her body following his direction.

Paisley’s tune grew steadier, and Ceana lifted her face as Oscar turned her again. Her breath fanned his jaw when she came close, and her lips parted as his palm tightened on her waist.

He completed another step before realizing that the humming had stopped and the door closed with a sharp click, followed by the sound of the key turning in the lock. Tommy had vanished, along with Paisley. Oscar remained with Ceana’s hand in his and her waist beneath his palm.

First, he released her gently. Her warmth left his palm, and his fingers tightened once against the emptiness before he crossed to the door.

The handle would not budge. He tried it again, then pressed his ear to the wood and listened. A smothered laugh came from the corridor.

“Tommy!”

“The key is on the hook, Faither,” Tommy called. “Anyone passin’ by can let ye out.”

“Bring it here.”

The sound of footsteps pattered over the stone in response.

“Tommy, we shouldnae leave them long,” Paisley whispered from further down the corridor.

Tommy answered too quietly for Oscar to hear. Soon enough, both sets of footsteps retreated.

Behind him, Ceana drew a breath that trembled at the end. He turned and noticed that she had pressed her lips together, though the corners kept lifting. Her cheeks had reddened from the dance, and several dark strands had loosened near her temples.

“Ye find this amusin’.”

“A little.” Her composure broke, and she covered her mouth. “He left the key where someone could find it. Ye have to admit that was thoughtful.”

“He has trapped servants in the linen cupboard twice. Last month, he locked Lennan in a storage chamber.”

Ceana lowered her hand. “Did Lennan find it amusin’?”

“He threatened to send Tommy to the kitchens to scrub pots.”

“Did Tommy scrub them?”

Oscar didn’t take a beat. “He hid the brushes.”

A laugh escaped Ceana, and Oscar’s lips twitched before he could prevent it.

The boy had outdone himself this time. His usual tricks involved trapping one unsuspecting victim. Locking two people together required a different purpose.

“Daenae laugh where he can hear ye,” Oscar muttered. “Ye will encourage him. But then I wouldnae mind this particular trick bein’ repeated.”