Page 47 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

Oscar regarded her for a moment before leading her to the cleared space.

The fiddler began a slow tune. Oscar raised her hand and set his other palm on her waist, holding her with firmer pressure than the dance required. He led each turn with a small movement of his fingers. His thumb brushed once across the fabric, and every step brought his body close to hers.

The heels continued striking the boards around them, cups touched tables near the wall, and laughter rose when another couple joined the dance. At the edge of a turn, Ceana spotted Oscar’s nearly full cup on the table beside Lennan.

“Ye seem to have recovered from regrettin’ the kiss.”

His hand guided her past another pair. “I regretted takin’ what ye hadnae offered.”

“And this mornin’? What had changed?”

“This mornin’, ye chose me.”

He turned her beneath their joined hands. When he drew her back, his palm settled lower on her waist and restored the space between them.

“Did the weddin’ kiss exhaust all the affection ye intend to show me?” she asked.

His fingers flexed. Over his shoulder, Ceana saw Heather notice the movement and turn quietly to David.

“If I acted on me wishes, I would take ye away from every person in this hall,” Oscar said tightly.

Ceana looked into his eyes. “So what is stoppin’ ye?”

He stopped for a beat, and she nearly stumbled against him before his hand steadied her. The couples around them continued to dance, forcing him to move again.

“I told ye. I daenae…”

“Ye daenae plan to consummate our marriage?”

His jaw hardened, and his eyes left hers as he guided her through another turn. The breath he drew before answering lifted his chest beneath her hand.

“I told ye I daenae plan to have more children. I ken too well the risks that come with that.” His fingers curled against her waist. “But I didnae say I meant to leave me wife untouched.”

Ceana’s fingers tightened on his shoulder. “That is a careful distinction.”

He drew her closer on the next turn until the warmth of his skin seeped through every layer between them. “Well, I can still make ye mine in every other sense, wife.” His voice roughened.

Heat coiled low in Ceana’s belly, stealing her words. She kept her eyes on him as he guided her through another turn and placed his body between her and most of the hall. He lowered his mouth to her ear, his breath tickling her skin. His voice dropped beneath the fiddle and stamping heels.

“Go to yer room and wait for me.”

Ceana missed the next step. Oscar steadied her and completed the final measures with formal precision, his hand remaining on her waist while she caught her breath. When the music ended, he released her and stepped back with full composure, like a laird before his clan.

Ceana lifted her chin. Then she turned toward the stairs, his command echoing in her mind.

Great. Just great.

Her knees threatened to shorten every step, and her breath caught in her chest. She gathered a fistful of her dress to steady her trembling fingers, held her shoulders straight, and crossed the hall without hurrying.

The guests glanced up as she passed, and two older women near the fireplace exchanged knowing looks. Leaving a wedding celebration early invited an easy conclusion.

Ceana could not tell whether anyone had heard what Oscar had told her. Still, heat lingered in her face and spread down her neck.

Mairi met her beside the stairs. “Do ye need help, me Lady?”

“Nay, thank ye. I can manage.”

Mairi studied her for one moment and then lowered her head. “As ye wish.”