Page 19 of Promised to the Wicked Laird

"It's a wardrobe built fer a woman's gowns, lass, nae a grown man."

"Ye should have thought of that before ye followed me in here half undressed."

"As I recall, ye were the one who pushed me toward it."

"Because ye were the one who wouldnae leave when I asked ye tae."

He caught her hand as she reached to smooth the sheet back into place, and the laughter that had been building in his chest finally broke loose. It was low and unguarded, shaking his shoulders in a way she hadn't seen from him yet, not once.

Nandag felt her own composure crack straight down the middle, and within a breath she was laughing too, hard enough that she had to brace a hand against the bedpost to stay upright.

"Yer face," she managed, between breaths, "I wonder how it looked when she asked about the shirt."

"Yer face, and trying tae cough like ye'd swallowed a whole loaf of bread."

"It worked, didnae it?"

"It worked very poorly. I could hear her nae believing a single word of it from under that bed."

"She dinnae say anything."

"She dinnae have tae." He was still holding her hand, she realized, his thumb tracing slow along her knuckles without either of them acknowledging it.

The laughter between them settled into something quieter, warmer, neither of them in any particular hurry to let go of the other's hand or the moment.

Fearchar spread the map of Strathglass across the table and set four stones at its corners to keep the parchment from curling, though his hand lingered a moment longer at the near corner.

"The eastern pass," Duncan said, tapping a spot near the ridge line. "That's where the scout spotted riders. Nae colors flying, but they moved like men who kent exactly where they were going."

"Robert's scouting the road out. Or waiting fer us tae move first." Fearchar leaned over the map, tracing the border of Farquharson land with one finger, stopping short of the pass. "He'll nae strike outright. Nae yet. He hasnae the men fer it."

"He's got enough men tae steal a bride out a side door."

"He's got enough men fer that. He hasnae enough tae hold Strathglass against the two of us combined, and he kens it, which means his next move will be something quieter. Buying time. Buying allies."

"Which brings us tae the King. His Majesty will want word the Accord's satisfied, one way or another, and if we let Robert's people reach Edinburgh first with their own version of events, it willnae dae us any good."

"They'll nae get the chance." Fearchar straightened. "We send word ourselves. A letter, confirming the marriage proceeds under the original terms, signed and sealed before Robert's got a rider halfway tae the border."

"Confirming a marriage that hasnae happened yet," Duncan said, dry.

"It'll have happened by the time the letter's read."

Fearchar didn't elaborate further, only reached into his belt pouch for the small, folded scrap he kept there and began winding it around two fingers without quite noticing he'd done it, the fabric soft and faded from years of the same careless habit.

"That ribbon again," Duncan said, after a moment.

Fearchar looked down at his hand as though it belonged to someone else, the pale strip of cloth wound twice round his fingers, edges gone soft and fraying at one end. He didn't stop turning it.

"It's naething."

"It's nae naething if ye've carried it seven years." Duncan's voice had gone quieter, the teasing edge dropped

Fearchar was quiet a moment, working the ribbon loose and smoothing it flat against the table. "A lass in a garden in Edinburgh wore it in her braid. It came loose and I picked it up meaning to give it back to her but the bells rang us both toward that hall. I never got the chance."

"And ye've carried it since."

"Aye."