Page 33 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

Oscar paused. His shoulders stiffened beneath his coat, and his attention shifted toward the dark passage before returning to her.

“Ye daenae need to ken more than I have told ye. I have nay need for other children.”

The answer struck the wound Ceana had carried for years. Oscar wanted a woman who could care for his children. Her own failure would never trouble their bargain because he expected nothing from her beyond a public role.

There is little danger of me bearin’ one anyway, she wanted to say.

The confession rose in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it down. He had offered her a closed door where his own pain was concerned. She would not place her secret in his hands while he guarded his.

“What ye need doesnae answer Paisley’s fear,” she argued. “She believes another child could cost her yer affection and her security here.”

“She is me daughter. Her place is secure.”

“She has heard women discuss replacin’ Tommy as heir. One of them spoke of creatin’ a family with her own son while Paisley sat nearby. What should she believe when every new wife might regard her as belongin’ to the wife who came before?”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “Their maither…”

He stopped, and Ceana waited until it became clear he would offer nothing more.

“Whatever happened to their maither still governs this family,” she said. “Yer children live with the consequences of somethin’ nay one will even mention.”

“Ye have been in me castle less than a week.” He moved closer, forcing her to tilt her face up. “Ye have challenged me at me table and before me men. Ye did it again in me study, and now ye stand outside yer bedchamber demandin’ answers I have chosen to keep private?”

“That is yer fault. Ye kidnapped the wrong woman if ye wanted silence.”

“And I continue to learn that every day.”

“Yet here we are.”

His gaze held hers while he closed the remaining distance. Ceana kept her hand on the handle, aware that one downward turn would open the door. She stayed where she was.

“’Tis simple. Just stop challengin’ me,” he said, his low voice skittering over her skin.

The previous night’s restraint had vanished from his face, leaving his mouth hard and his eyes dark.

“Do ye want me to stop because I am wrong or because I see ye for what ye truly are? For what ye avoid?” she asked.

Oscar planted one forearm against the door beside her head. His other hand found her waist, and the pressure of his palm drew her close enough for the heat of his body to seep through her clothes.

His gaze dropped to her lips while his thumb pressed into the curve of her waist. He bent until his breath warmed her mouth. Ceana slid her hand off the handle, closed her fist around the front of his shirt, and lifted her face.

Then he kissed her.

The first contact carried enough force to press her head against the door. He caught her lower lip between his and changed the angle, drawing a startled breath from her. Ceana tightened her fist and pulled him closer until his chest was flush against hers.

Her lips opened beneath his. Oscar accepted the invitation with a rough sound, and his tongue plunged into her mouth. The intimate stroke sent heat through her body, urging her onto her heels as she met him with her tongue.

His hand slid from her waist to her hip, where his fingers gripped her firmly. When he pressed closer, his hard length met her lower belly through his breeches.

The feeling made her arch into him.

Ceana caught his shoulder with her free hand while he curled his palm around her neck. His mouth remained open over hers, taking each breath she tried to draw as her fist pulled him harder against her.

This was a bad idea.

A terrible one, in fact.

CHAPTER 9