Flynn inclined his head. “Aye.”
Ian took another drink before speaking again. “I’ve been thinking about the contract.”
Flynn raised a brow. “The marriage contract?”
“Aye,” Ian said.
“What about it?” Flynn replied.
Ian stared down into the whisky swirling in his goblet. “I want to find a way to void it.”
Flynn froze. For several seconds, he simply stared at Ian as if he had misheard the words. Finally, he blinked and set his goblet down slowly.
“Void it?” he repeated.
“Aye.”
Flynn leaned forward, his expression stunned. “Does that mean ye nay longer wish to be married to Lady McGuire?”
Ian looked up sharply. “Nay,” he snapped. “Daenae be a bampot.”
Flynn lifted both hands in surrender. “Then what are ye saying?”
Ian exhaled heavily. “I wish to remain married to her,” he said firmly. “But with nay contract at all.”
Flynn blinked again. “That’s… quite a difference.”
“Aye.”
Flynn rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “And how exactly do ye plan to accomplish such a thing?”
Ian gave a dry laugh. “I havenae figured that out yet.”
Flynn shook his head slowly.
“Ye realize the council will fight ye on this.”
“I ken that,” Ian said. “But I am ruler here, nae the council.”
“They’ll warn ye it weakens yer leadership.”
Ian’s jaw clenched. “I daenae care.”
Flynn studied him carefully. “Most Lairds would.”
Ian turned toward the fire again, the flames reflecting faintly in his eyes.
“Most Lairds arenae trying to repair the trust of a wife who believes they married her for land, power, and betrayal.”
Ian took another drink, his thoughts drifting unwillingly back to Arianna. The wounded disbelief in her voice still echoed painfully in his mind. Her trust had taken weeks to build. Now it lay shattered between them. And the worst part was knowing that the cursed contract had given her every reason to doubt him. Ian clenched his jaw.
Her trust mattered more than any strip of land or ancient debt between clans. Finally, he turned away from the fire.
“I need to speak with Alastair,” Ian said.
Flynn nodded. Ian crossed the room and pulled open the chamber door. A young maid passed through the corridor carrying folded linens.
“Ye there,” Ian called.
