“Skye?”
She blinked upon hearing her name, dragging her gaze away from the table. Evander stood over by the door, one hand on the doorknob, watching her curiously.
“Sorry,” she mumbled and hurried after him.
The storage room was a little less dark, on account of having a large, round window set into the wall. The moon was still mostly obscured behind the clouds, but occasionally some starlight filtered through.
Combined with the candlelight and her adjusted vision, Skye was able to make out a small, cramped room. The walls were lined with shelves, which were crammed with books, loose papers, manuscripts, maps, and more. A desk and chair sat in the corner by the window, similarly piled high with paper.
Evander strode over to a set of drawers and yanked open one to reveal countless scrolls of parchment, each secured with a differently colored ribbon. He grabbed a red one and unrolled it on the cramped table.
“Can ye read that?”
She took the candle—ignoring how her fingers brushed his calloused ones as she did so—and leaned over the scroll.
The first half was a classic marriage contract, the usual type drawn up between a laird and the daughter of a laird. Below, however, were extra paragraphs written in.
“Terms of the Marriage,” she read aloud. “I remember this. Ye had originally put in that we could take lovers, and I was angry at that.”
He tilted his head. “Aye, that’s true. I didnae mean it as an insult. And there was no lover on me mind. I simply didnae want ye to be restricted or lonely.”
“But ye took that term out.”
“Aye,” he responded simply, still looking at her. “I did.”
She turned her attention back to the contract.
“Number One,” she read aloud. “Laird Bryden willnae order Lady Bryden around as if she were one of his servants.” She paused and grinned, nodding approvingly. “Good job, lass. That one was mine, was it nae?”
“Do ye have to ask?”
She gave a wry chuckle and continued. “Number Two: Despite the terms of their marriage, she will show respect to him in public and protect his reputation.” She paused again, glancing at him. “Was Inaebeing respectful to ye?”
“Have a guess.”
“Iwasbeing respectful?”
“Have another guess. Alternatively, read the final term.”
She glanced back at the document. A lump formed in her throat. “Number Three: The castle is open to any little animal that might need help. Lady Bryden will take care of these creatures.”
For a moment, she stared down at the document, a smile tugging at her lips. She remembered Blackberry, a tiny, flea-bitten kitten meowing for help. She remembered gathering it into her arms and turning to look up at Evander.
“Can I bring her home?”
He’d looked back at her pensively, his eyes as unreadable as always. “Ye can bring back the whole forest if it pleases ye, lass.”
“Now, that last term,” Evander spoke up, his tone wry, “that must have been written by that hell-cat herself. I swear, me servants cross themselves whenever somebody says the nameBlackberry.”
Skye let out a gurgle of laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth. “She is a wee hell-cat, is she nae?”
Evander chuckled too, shaking his head. They both glanced down at the contract.
“Well, there it is,” he said. “The contract we drew up. As ye can see, we broke it. I’m sorry, lass. I should have been stronger. I should have respected yer wishes.”
“Me wishes?” she repeated, frowning. “I was there, remember? Just now, when we brokethis contract. I am still the same person who signed this contract, and now I think… Well, now I think that we need a new one.”
He glanced sharply at her. “What?”
