Page 97 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

She looked across the passage. Her mouth tightened, though she kept her voice level. “I can stay with ye this evenin’.”

“I daenae want pity.”

“Well, good thing I am only offerin’ me company.”

Ceana nodded. “I need to do somethin’. Ye can tell me which supplies need to be replaced after the battle at Morrag.”

“I will bring ye the list before breakfast.”

Muriel touched her shoulder once and left her to the work basket she had opened.

Night had fallen when Mairi returned. A fresh stack of firewood stood beside the hearth, and another blanket had been laid across the bed. Ceana had already found the new iron pin fitted through the latch.

“After he learned which chamber ye chose, the Laird sent the carpenter,” Mairi explained. “He ordered the wood as well. There is another guard at the family stairs.”

Ceana folded the blanket once and pressed its edge flat until her healing wrist began to ache. Her gaze remained on Oscar’s closed door across the passage.

“I’d like to retire, please,” she said.

After Mairi withdrew, Ceana changed into her night rail and combed her hair alone. She banked the fire, returned the comb to the washstand, and crawled into bed on the side she had always occupied beside Oscar.

Her hand moved across the linen before she caught herself. Her palm found only the empty pillow and the cold sheet. She remembered the warmth of his forearm and the steady breath near her ear.

The thought made her draw her hand back and close it against her chest.

From tomorrow, she would only speak to Oscar about the children or the running of the castle. Any private conversation he would have to start. She would leave his chamber door untouched.

Much later, footsteps sounded in the passage. She recognized their pace as they stopped outside her closed door. She slid out of bed and crossed the floor, her fingers hovering over the latch.

Oscar did not knock. His boots crossed the narrow passage, and she heard the latch on his door click. She lowered her hand.

She was done. She would not ask him again.

CHAPTER 24

The next morning, Ceana decided to focus on her duties for once.

Mairi had informed her about the renovations needed for the grain stores, and she had thought they were minor. Now that she was in the room, she realized she was wrong.

She pressed two fingers against the darkened side of the grain sack. The coarse weave gave beneath them, and when she drew her hand back, moisture shone across her fingertips. A water drop fell from the loosened roof boards and struck the floor beside her shoe.

“Four sacks nearest the wall have taken water,” Mairi said. “The rest remain dry.”

Two porters stood beside an empty handcart, waiting. The master carpenter pointed toward the opening overhead. “It needs seasoned timber, me Lady. The sound lengths we have are set aside for the practice frame. We have had little spare since men and material went to the repairs after the attack on Morrag.”

Mairi held the household tally open between both hands. “Which work is to have it, me Lady?”

Ceana wiped her fingers on a cloth and faced the carpenter. “Can the damaged frame be closed safely?”

“Aye. Rope around it will keep the men off until fresh timber comes.”

“And if this roof takes another night of rain?”

“The gap may widen, and more of the grain will be wet by mornin’.”

Ceana took the tally from Mairi. The next delivery was marked clearly, along with the quantity still held in the inner stores.

“The practice frame can wait. The stores cannae. Rope it off, bring the timber here, and move every dry sack before another drop reaches it.”