The contract.
The word echoed uneasily in her mind. She had known there was an agreement between the clans when the marriage had been arranged. Yet the servants spoke as though there were details no one openly discussed. Suspicion slowly began to creep through her thoughts.
Is there more to this marriage than I was told?
The servants continued their quiet chatter, unaware that she stood only a few steps away.
“Perhaps the Laird will sort it soon enough,” one of them said.
“Aye,” another agreed. “He always does.”
Do I truly know Ian at all?
The question lingered painfully in her mind. She had allowed herself to believe Ian was different from the men she had known all her life. He had treated her with unexpected respect, even allowing her to take part in tasks that most ladies would never attempt. Yet now doubt crept into those memories, twisting them with uncertainty.
And what of the clan itself?
Perhaps they had all known something she did not. The thought stung sharply. Arianna straightened suddenly, anger replacing the uneasy confusion in her chest. She turned and began striding down the hall.
There was only one way to learn the truth. She would find Ian.
And this time, he would answer her questions.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ian stood at the head of the council table. The men seated before him shifted uneasily as he tossed the final page of the marriage contract onto the wood between them. The stamped seal caught the torchlight as it slid across the table. Silence settled over the chamber.
“Explain this,” Ian said coldly.
George cleared his throat as he leaned forward to examine the page again. “Aye… the clause,” he said cautiously.
Another elder folded his hands and looked toward Ian with careful patience. “I daenae ken how we missed this.”
“And none of ye thought to look for the seals?” Ian asked.
George raised a calming hand. “Me Laird, the clause doesnae change the marriage itself.” He tapped the parchment lightly. “Itmerely provides leverage should Clan McDonald fail to uphold their side of the agreement.”
Ian stared at them in disbelief. “Leverage,” he muttered.
Another elder leaned forward in his chair. “Ye must consider the political realities, Ian.” His voice carried the calm tone of a man accustomed to negotiation. “If the McDonalds refuse future cooperation, the clause ensures our clan is compensated.”
Ian folded his arms across his chest, disgust curling in his stomach.
“So ye view me wife as nothing more than a bargaining tool,” he said.
“That is not what we said,” George replied quickly. “The clause simply protects Clan McGuire’s interests.”
Ian turned away from the table, pacing several steps toward the narrow window of the chamber. Beyond the glass, the hills stretched wide and peaceful, untouched by the tensions brewing inside the castle walls. Yet his thoughts churned heavily.
God help them if they think I’ll use Arianna that way.
The contract might grant such rights, but Ian had already decided the matter in his own mind.
I will never claim her family's lands. Nae now. Nae ever.
Behind him, the council continued speaking.
“A clan without an heir invites danger,” one elder said. “Ye ken that as well as we do.”
