Page 43 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

"What if it is?" she asked slowly.

"Then I'll agree tae yer terms. All of them. Nay kissin' unless ye deem it necessary. Nay touchin' in private. Knockin' before I enter any room ye're in. And a room of yer own." He leaned forward slightly. "But if it's nae one of yer favors, if ye're just makin' demands without willin' tae pay the price, then we negotiate."

"Negotiate what?"

"The terms. Maybe I agree to knock most of the time but nae all the time. Maybe the nay-touchin' rule has exceptions. Because there’s nay way I’m agreein’ tae all those rules."

"It's a favor," she interrupted.

David went still. "Ye're sure? Ye only have three."

"I'm sure."

He studied her face, looking for doubt. For hesitation. Found only determination and something that looked almost like desperation.

Whatever had driven her to his study, whatever had made her demand those rules, it mattered to her. Deeply.

"Alright then," he said quietly. "Ye have me word. I'll honor yer rules."

Some of the tension left her shoulders. "Thank you."

"But I want somethin' in return."

Her eyes narrowed. "We already agreed on terms. A favor means no questions, no negotiations."

"This isnae about the favor." He stood, moving around the desk until he was close enough to see the faint shadows under her eyes. Close enough to smell the lavender soap she'd used in her bath. "I want yer word that ye'll tell me if somethin's wrong. If someone's botherin' ye. If ye need help with anythin'."

"I can take care of myself."

"I ken that. But ye're me wife now. Me responsibility. And I take me responsibilities seriously." He kept his voice level, reasonable. "So I'm askin'… if somethin' happens, if ye're in trouble, come tae me. Even if it means breakin' one of yer rules tae dae it."

Elinor was quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Alright."

"Ye give me yer word?"

"I give you my word."

"Good." He stepped back, putting proper distance between them again. "Now, was there anythin' else? Or can I return tae convincin' the MacKenzies that our grain prices are reasonable?"

A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "That's all. For now."

She turned to leave, her skirts swishing around her ankles. But at the door, she paused.

"David?"

"Aye?"

"Why did you agree so easily?" She looked back at him, genuine curiosity in her eyes. "You could have argued. Made it difficult. But you didn't."

David thought about how to answer that. About whether to tell her the truth, that he understood what it was like to have no control. To be pulled in directions you didn't choose by people who thought they owned you.

"Because ye asked," he said simply. "And because ye're me wife. If ye need rules tae feel safe here, then ye'll have them."

Something shifted in her expression. Softened around the edges.

"Thank you," she said again. Quieter this time. More genuine.

Then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.