Page 77 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

“I have sold oats there every harvest since Lachlan was a lad,” one declared.

“And I was granted the place last winter,” the other countered. “Lady Donaldina herself said⁠—”

“I said ye might use it while Angus was injured,” Donaldina corrected.

Angus folded his arms in satisfaction.

“However,” she continued, “yer stall has grown too large for the western passage.”

His satisfaction disappeared. Roy concealed his amusement by lifting the supply ledger.

Donaldina moved two markers across the rough map of the town. “Angus will take the northern corner. Seumas will remain near the western passage, but his carts must be unloaded before the morning bells.”

Seumas frowned. “The northern corner is larger.”

“It also stands beside the road,” Roy observed. “Which means Angus will assist the guards in keeping it clear.”

Angus opened his mouth. Donaldina looked at him. He closed it.

The farmers left with the dissatisfied expressions of men who had not received everything they wanted but could discover no reasonable cause to continue shouting.

Over the next few days, it happened repeatedly. Servants began placing reports between Roy and Donaldina instead of in front of just one of them. Guards directed their questions to both of them. Councilors stopped discussing MacIver provisions and MacNicol arrangements, instead focusing on festival preparations as if a single authority was overseeing everything.

Roy noticed every alteration. He told himself it was practical. Dun Ard required unity, and people were naturally inclined to follow whichever appearance of order caused them the least trouble.

Yet, when Donaldina leaned across the table to examine a map, her sleeve brushing his wrist, practicality became considerably more difficult to maintain.

On the final evening, she read through the approved petitions while Roy checked the guard assignments.

“Twenty-eight stalls,” she declared.

“Twenty-seven.”

Donaldina looked up. “Twenty-eight.”

“The fortune-teller was refused,” he told her.

She shook her head. “Well, I approved her this morning.”

He frowned. “Ye said her presence would encourage foolishness.”

“I have reconsidered,” she shrugged. “Foolishness will attend whether she does or nae. We may as well collect a fee from it.”

Roy looked at the final market plan. Her marker already occupied a narrow place beside the cloth merchants. He ought to have objected. Instead, he added the stall to the night patrol.

Donaldina smiled. The expression was small, private, and entirely too pleased with him.

Roy looked back at the page before he forgot that several councilors remained in the room with them.

“Then it is settled,” Malcolm announced. “The plans are complete.”

The council began gathering its papers. Chairs scraped against stone. Men spoke of departure times and weather, though several looked toward Roy and Donaldina with the air of witnesses departing after something more important than festival business.

Roy watched Donaldina stack the petitions into one neat pile. The festival was ready. The roads were secured. Supplies had been arranged, disputes settled, and guards assigned.

He could no longer say which decisions belonged to her and which to him. They were simply theirs.

The realization should have troubled him.