Page 98 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

Mairi turned to the porters. “Load the dry sacks and take them to the inner stores. Keep the four damp ones apart.”

The men bent to their work. Before Ceana had marked the change beside the repair entry, the first sack thudded onto the cart. The carpenter strode into the courtyard, calling for his men as he went.

“Will the sound grain carry us to the next delivery?” she asked.

“It will,” Mairi said. “With some to spare.”

Ceana initialed the entry.

Mairi took back the list and moved after the porters, directing them toward the inner door. Through the open entrance, Ceana saw rope being drawn around the damaged practice frame. Two men lifted the reserved timber from the yard and started across the wet stones.

Oscar appeared behind them. He had left training without changing. Sweat darkened the collar of his tunic, and leather guards still covered his forearms. Fresh abrasions crossed his knuckles.

Heat coiled low in Ceana’s belly. She remembered those long fingers spread across her thighs, holding her open while his mouth coaxed loud screams from her. Her hand closed around the cloth she had used to wipe her fingers.

Oscar spotted her at once. His gaze dropped to the list resting in Mairi’s hands, then returned to Ceana’s mouth as she thanked the carpenter, who had come back to indicate where the first length would be set. The man finished answering her before he turned.

“Me Laird.”

Oscar acknowledged him with a nod before looking toward the men crossing the yard.

“Me Laird,” Ceana said.

“Why is the practice frame closed?”

“The grain-store roof is leakin’. Four sacks are damp, and another rain may reach the rest. I have redirected the seasoned timber there.”

She kept her hands loosely folded, the cloth still in her palm.

“Can the frame stay out of use? I daenae want Tommy findin’ his way here.”

“It has been cordoned off, and replacement timber has already been added to the next order.”

Oscar glanced through the doorway. The rope was secured, and the first timbers had reached the store wall. The men continued working under Ceana’s orders.

“When will the roof be secure?”

“The carpenter expects it finished before the next rain.”

Mairi led the last porter out with the remaining dry sacks. The carpenter followed, leaving Ceana and Oscar on opposite sides of the ledger table. It was narrow enough that Oscar could have reached for her without leaning. Ceana kept her fingers on its scarred edge anyway.

His gaze roved over her face and stopped beneath her eyes. “Ye left the warm milk untouched again.”

Her thumb ceased tracing the wood. The maid who collected the cup at first light had carried it past his chamber to reach the stairs.

“And ye crossed the passage before dawn.”

“I went to train.”

Ceana looked down at the split skin across his knuckles. “I can see.”

When she raised her eyes, his gaze had returned to her mouth. His fingers curled beside his thigh, drawing the leather guard tight across his wrist.

At that moment, a porter called for Mairi from the courtyard.

Ceana reached for the ledger and turned it back to the completed repair entry. “Do ye require anythin’ further concernin’ the stores?”

Oscar held her gaze for another breath. “Nay.”