Page 51 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

"That's what ye're gettin'."

Color flooded her cheeks. "You agreed to the terms of the favor! I asked for a room of my own, and you said yes."

"Aye. A room. Nae a separate bedchamber." He kept his voice level, reasonable, though he could feel his own temper stirring. "There's a difference, lass."

"That's… Ye’re twisting words!"

"I'm being specific." He moved toward her, watching her stiffen. "Ye asked fer a room where ye could be alone. Where ye could breathe. Where nay one would disturb ye. And ye'll have it. But I'll nae compromise our marriage by lettin' ye sleep elsewhere."

"Why not?" The question came out sharper than she probably intended. "We barely know each other. We're only married because you bought me at an auction. What difference does it make if we sleep in separate rooms?"

"It makes all the difference." He stopped a few feet away, close enough to see the pulse fluttering at her throat. "The Duke already suspects our marriage is nae genuine. If his hears a report that the Laird and Lady of Keppoch keep separate chambers, what dae ye think that'll dae tae our story?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. He saw understanding dawn in her eyes, followed quickly by frustration.

"I hate that you're right," she muttered.

"I'm often right. Ye'll get used tae it."

"Don't be smug."

"I'm nay bein' smug. I'm bein' practical." He tilted his head slightly. "Why is this so important tae ye? The separate room, I mean. Beyond just wantin' space."

For a moment, he thought she wouldn't answer. She looked away, her hands twisting in her skirts, a nervous habit he'd noticed before.

"Because I've never had anything that was just mine," she said quietly. "Everything in my father's house belonged to him. My clothes, my books, even my time. He controlled all of it." She met his eyes again. "And then he sold me. Like I was furniture he didn't need anymore."

David's chest tightened. "Elinor."

"I know you're not him." She cut him off, her voice steady despite the emotion in her eyes. "I know that. But I need... I need something that's mine. A place where I can close the door and just exist without having to be anything for anyone."

The raw honesty of it struck him harder than any argument could have. He understood that need, the desire for a space that belonged only to oneself, where no one could reach you unless you allowed it.

"Ye'll have it," he said finally. "I give ye me word. A room that's yers, where nay one will enter without permission. Nae even me."

"But no bed."

"But no bed." He softened his tone. "I'm sorry, lass. I truly am. But I cannae give ye that. Nae with the Regent watchin' us."

She studied him for a long moment, and he could see her weighing his words, testing them for lies or manipulation. Finding none, she nodded slowly.

"All right."

"All right?"

"All right." She moved past him toward the wardrobe where Ainsley had placed her spare shift. "But I'm still angry about it."

Despite himself, David smiled. "I'd be disappointed if ye werenae."

"Don't think this means I'm going to make things easy for you."

"I wouldnae dream of it."

She pulled the shift from the wardrobe, then turned to face him, lifting her chin. "Turn around."

"We're married, lass."

"And you promised to knock before entering rooms. Which means respecting my privacy." Her eyes flashed with challenge. "Unless you want me to use another favor to make you turn around?"