Page 41 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

Oscar gripped the end of the nearest bench and moved it half a yard away from the aisle. Its legs dragged through the grass, leaving two pale tracks beneath a seat that the maids had positioned correctly the first time.

A simple cloth marked the spot where the vows would be spoken. Beside it, the priest surveyed the final preparations while witnesses gathered in small groups near the garden wall. Morrag and MacKane ribbons lay ready on a narrow table.

Oscar checked the table’s stability, then tightened his sword belt.

“The bench was straight before ye moved it,” Lennan remarked.

“It was too close to the aisle.”

“I doubt anyone else thought the same.”

Oscar looked at him. Lennan wisely turned his attention to the arriving guests, though a hint of amusement lingered at the corner of his mouth.

Oscar had always despised waiting idly. He could command men at the border or settle a dispute before noon, since both required decisions he understood. This morning demanded that he stand in his own garden and watch the castle entrance for a woman who had every right to stay inside.

He could still feel her lips against his own, could still feel the curve of her waist beneath his palm. The memories had followed him into her bedchamber the previous night, where the sight of her loose hair had tested what little restraint remained in him.

He pressed one hand against the edge of the narrow table until the wood bit into his skin. In less than an hour, he would finally be able to call Ceana his wife. The ceremony would place her in his household and require him to honor boundaries he had already crossed.

“Lady MacKane will stand here,” the priest said to a servant, indicating the space beside Oscar.

The title caught beneath Oscar’s ribs. His fingers went cold around the table, and for one beat, his lungs refused to expand. He pressed his thumb against the old scar across his palm until the physical pressure brought his attention back to the garden.

Ceana had agreed to the marriage, and the children had begun treating her presence as part of their lives. MacKane would provide the strength Morrag needed. The bargain required a lady for his clan and asked for no declaration of love. The last assurance, however, no longer carried the comfort it should have.

Oscar turned toward the castle entrance again. If his bride chose not to appear, the priest would speak no vows, and the ribbons would remain separate. Her absence would answer him before the entire clan. He could endure the embarrassment and the failure of his plans, but he could not yet determine what he would do with the place she had already made inside his home.

Tommy hurried into the garden with Paisley close behind him. His ceremonial coat sat crooked across one shoulder, though he had clearly submitted to having his hair combed. Paisley carried a folded cloth carefully against her chest.

“Ceana is almost ready,” Tommy announced. “She looks finer than any queen.”

Paisley gave him a patient look. “Ye have never seen a queen.”

“I ken what one would look like.”

“She is very beautiful, Faither,” Paisley said, quietly enough that the admission carried more weight than Tommy’s claim.

Oscar adjusted his cuffs. “I expected she would be.”

Tommy moved closer and lowered his voice, although everyone within several feet could still hear him. “Will she stay after the vows?”

“She will become Lady MacKane once she gives her consent, and the ceremony is complete.”

“So she cannae leave?”

The question made Paisley look at Oscar as well. Her fingers tightened around the cloth she carried.

“She will belong to this household,” Oscar said. “She has given her word to remain, and I have given mine.”

Some of the strain left Paisley’s face. “Will me ribbon truly be used?”

“Ceana chose it herself. It has a place with the clan ribbons.”

Paisley unfolded the cloth enough to reveal her silver embroidery. She touched one careful stitch before covering it again.

Tommy rocked forward on his toes. “Ness is tied near the stables. She has water, and I checked her tether meself.”

Keeping the goat away from a gathering required a sacrifice few adults would understand.