Ian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Good. Then hear me well. I want ye to find a way to make that blasted contract null and void. Every clause, every signature, every scrap of parchment that gave it life, ye will hunt through all our manuscripts for a time when that was possible and how it was done.” He punctuated each word with a sharp glance that brooked no argument.
Alastair cleared his throat. “Me Laird, that could take months, or longer. The laws and history of this land are vast, and nae every contract has precedent.” He hesitated, wary of the storm in Ian’s gaze. “It may nae be as simple as ye think.”
“Listen to me, Alastair. I do nae wish to end me marriage to Lady McGuire. I want her here, beside me, but I will nae have this contract hanging over her, haunting her every step. I want her to live in peace, knowing she is free of threats this agreement might bring.”
Alastair swallowed again, his concern obvious. “I understand, me Laird… but the parchments, the histories… I daenae ken a way to…”
Ian’s eyes narrowed. “Enough excuses. Ye will find a way. I care nae if it takes weeks, months. Ye will scour the laws of this land. Every parchment, every manuscript, every dusty tome in every vault in this castle, ye will read them all until a path is found.” He leaned forward, voice rising slightly with urgency. “Do ye ken the gravity of this? Lady McGuire’s trust, her peace of mind, is at stake. I willnae wait idly while some old clause hangs over her head like a blade.”
Alastair bowed deeply, his hands trembling just slightly. “Aye, me Laird. I will begin at once. I will search every record we possess. I understand the importance of this… and the need for secrecy.”
Ian took a long sip of whisky, letting the burn clear the tension from his throat. “Good. Begin with the earliest agreementsbetween the clans. Look for precedent in annulments, disputes, and forgotten clauses. Any loophole, any technicality that renders this contract void, ye will find it.” His eyes flashed. “And Alastair, I expect diligence. Do nae return with half measures or tales of impossibility.”
Alastair inclined his head once more, a mixture of determination and fear in his gaze. “It will be as ye command, me Laird. I will report only when there is certainty, and nae before.”
Ian set down his goblet, letting the amber liquid catch the flicker of firelight.
“Aye. That is all I ask. Now get to it.” His tone brooked no refusal.
As Alastair departed, Ian’s jaw tightened, his mind turning to Arianna. He imagined her waking without worry, free from the shadow of this contract. The thought brought a rare, hard smile to his lips.
Flynn, who had been silently observing the exchange, finally leaned forward. “Ye truly wish this done, even if it weakens yer hold with the council?”
Ian’s gaze darkened. “Aye. I would sooner risk the council than see her believe I married to betray her family.”
He rose from his chair, “Now let him find the cracks. I will have her peace, and nothing else shall stand in the way.”
The chamber fell silent except for the crackling of the fire, the weight of Ian’s command settling over the room like a mantle of iron.
The next morning dawned cool and bright, though Ian felt none of the peace such a morning ought to bring. He stood knee-deep in a meadow of tall grass just beyond the castle walls, plucking wildflowers with far less grace than the delicate task required. Stems snapped beneath his rough hands as he muttered a string of curses beneath his breath. His warriors lingered nearby, pretending to check their horses while clearly watching their Laird gather flowers like some lovestruck lad.
Ian straightened and shot them a dark look. “What are ye staring at?” he barked.
A few of them quickly turned away, though one younger warrior failed to hide his grin. Ian scowled and returned to the patch of flowers, crouching again to pull up a cluster of bright yellow blooms.
“See what I do for this woman,” he grumbled to himself. “A Laird reduced to flower picking.”
He gathered a few more stems, muttering all the while. The wind stirred the grass around him, brushing softly against his boots as if the meadow itself mocked him. Still, he persisted until he had assembled a respectable bundle of wildflowers and tall grass.
Flynn approached cautiously from behind. “That’s quite the bouquet, me Laird.”
Ian shot him a look. “If ye laugh, I’ll see ye scrubbing the stables for a month.”
Flynn raised his hands innocently. “Wouldnae dream of it.”
Ian gave a grunt and began walking back toward the castle. The flowers felt absurd in his large hands, but he held them carefully nonetheless. If they brought even the smallest hint of warmth back to Arianna’s eyes, it would be worth every suspicious glance from his men.
By the time he reached the corridor outside her chamber, his resolve had hardened. Ian lifted his hand and knocked. For a moment, there was only silence. Then the door opened.
Arianna stood before him, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She was still in her nightshift with a shawl drawn over it. Her expression remained guarded, though he saw the flicker of surprise when she noticed the flowers.
Ian held them out awkwardly. “I brought this for yer wee bunny, Bramble, to eat.”
Her lips twitched despite herself. For a fleeting moment, she almost smiled. The sight struck him harder than any blade.
“Well,” she said quietly, stepping aside. “Ye’d best come in then.”
Ian entered the chamber, relief easing some of the tension in his chest. The small rabbit sat near the window, twitching its nose curiously as he approached.
