Page 9 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

Oscar folded his arms. “I willnae promise secrecy before I ken whether yer secret threatens me clan or me family.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

“Aye.”

“That’s where ye draw the line? Promises are impossible for ye, yet orders seem remarkably easy?”

“Speak, lass.” His voice remained low.

Ceana would almost have preferred a shout. Anger could be answered with anger, while his control left her with nothing to push against.

She looked toward the tent flap and thought of Daphne somewhere beyond the festival, perhaps riding south or hiding in a village where no one knew her name. Confessing might send men after her. Silence would allow Oscar to announce a false match and turn her disappearance into a public war against Angus. Ceana had to pick the lesser evil.

“I am nae the woman ye think I am,” she eventually admitted.

Oscar’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

She forced the truth past the tightness in her throat. “I am nae Daphne.”

His faint amusement disappeared. He studied her face as if the mask might still conceal something, though it lay on the table behind her.

“Who are ye, then?”

“Ceana. Ceana Tulloch. Daphne is me sister.”

He turned fully toward her, his gaze moving over the dark green gown and the silver ribbons before settling on her face.

“We are twins,” Ceana continued. “Daphne has freckles across her cheeks and nose. The mask covered them, and everyone saw her clothes before they looked closely at the woman wearin’ them.”

Oscar’s expression revealed little. “Where is she?”

“I daenae ken.”

His jaw tightened. “Why do I nae believe that?”

“She fled last night,” Ceana said quickly. “I found her tent empty before dawn. She left no destination and no word of who had gone with her. The betrothal was meant to happen today, and I thought I could delay it long enough to buy her time.”

“By takin’ her place?”

“I wore her gown and mask. I allowed people to call me by her name. Nobody questioned it because they expected to see Daphne.”

The admission carried an old humiliation she had never spoken aloud. The guests had recognized Daphne’s colors, and the woman promised to Angus. No one had examined her closely enough to discover her beneath the mask.

Oscar moved nearer. “Why would yer sister flee a marriage yer faither arranged?”

“That is her truth to tell. All ye need to understand is that ye have taken the wrong woman.”

His gaze traveled over her face again, slower this time. Ceana resisted the urge to lower her eyes.

“Angus wanted Daphne,” she said. “The agreement concerns Daphne. Takin’ me gives ye nay leverage over him.”

The argument should have relieved her. Proving herself useless to Oscar was the surest path to freedom. Still, the word pressed upon every offer that had gone to her sister and every discussion of heirs that had ended when Ceana entered a room.

“Nay one intends to marry me,” she continued. “Nobody will care that ye stole me.”

Oscar looked at her as if the claim made less sense than the deception.

“What happens when Angus learns Daphne has fled?” she asked. “Yer message will make him believe she accepted another man before disappearin’. He may send people after her.”