His anger from the council meeting still simmered beneath the surface, though a quieter unease had begun creeping into his thoughts. He reached the heavy oak door and pushed it open without knocking.
Inside, the steward sat bent over a ledger at his desk. The man looked up quickly at the sudden entrance, surprise flashing across his lined face.
“Me Laird,” he said, rising from his chair. “I didnae expect ye this mornin’.”
The steward’s name was Alasdair, a careful man who had served the clan faithfully for more than twenty years.
Ian closed the door behind him and crossed the room in several long strides.
“I need to see the marriage contract,” he said without preamble.
Alasdair blinked once in mild confusion.
“The contract?” he repeated.
“Aye,” Ian said sharply. “The marriage agreement signed between Clan McGuire and Clan McDonald.”
He nodded slowly and moved toward a tall wooden cabinet along the wall. “Of course, me Laird. I keep such records safe among the clan documents.”
He unlocked the cabinet and began sorting through several neatly tied bundles of parchment. After a moment, he withdrew a folded document.
“Here it is,” he said, bringing it carefully to the desk. Ian stepped closer as the steward laid the contract open upon the wooden surface.
For several moments, Ian studied the parchment in silence.
The familiar lines of the agreement stretched across the page in neat script. At the bottom lay the signatures of the witnesses. Yet something about the document stirred a faint unease in his mind.
His brow slowly furrowed.
“This isnae right,” he muttered.
Alasdair looked up from beside him. “Me Laird?”
Ian pointed toward the bottom of the page. “Where are the seals?”
The steward frowned. “The seals?”
“A proper contract always carries the stamped crest beside the signatures of all clans involved,” Ian said slowly. “This one doesnae.”
Alasdair leaned closer over the parchment, his expression tightening as he examined the page more carefully.
“By the saints,” he whispered.
Ian folded his arms across his chest. “Ye see it now.”
“Aye,” he admitted uneasily. “Ye’re right, me Laird.” The steward looked up with growing concern. “This appears to be only part of the contract.”
Ian’s jaw clenched.
“Where did ye find this document?” he demanded.
He gestured toward a stack of old ledgers piled neatly along a nearby table. “Among the older clan records. I believed it complete when I first discovered it.”
Ian stepped toward the table immediately.
“Then we’ll search the rest. There could be pages missin'.”
The steward nodded and joined him quickly.
