Page 112 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

Roy looked toward the bees rather than at her. “They want the marriage completed formally… soon.”

Donaldina had known the question waited for them. It stood behind every council meeting, and every glance exchanged across the great hall. The accord brought him to Dun Ard. Their growing attachment made obedience to it more complicated, not less.

Once, she feared this marriage because it represented the loss of choice. Now she feared speaking of it because choice had begun to matter too much.

She removed one glove. Honey had seeped through the leather, coating her fingers with gold.

“We should dae it properly,” she said.

Roy did not move. Donaldina wiped her thumb against her palm, though it only spread the sweetness farther.

“Nae because the council demands it. And nae merely because the King wrote our names upon the same agreement.”

His gaze settled upon hers.

“But we should marry?” he asked.

The question was quiet. For all his strength, Roy offered it without defense. Donaldina felt the answer within her before she found the courage to speak it.

“Aye,” she replied. “Naething feels more right.”

Roy’s mouth moved. Donaldina turned back to the hive before his almost-smile could unsettle her further.

She reached for the wooden cover. Roy reached at the same time. Their hands met. Honey transferred from her fingers to his, bright against the scars crossing his knuckles. Roy looked down at it. Donaldina attempted to withdraw, but he caught her fingertips lightly.

“Ye have made a ruin of me hand,” he spoke playfully.

“Ye have survived worse.”

“Scarcely.”

She laughed, and the sound escaped more freely than she intended. Roy released her only to lift the cover into place. The edge caught badly. Donaldina leaned closer to correct it, pressing her palm beside his. Damp soil darkened her skirt. Wax clung to Roy’s sleeve. A bee settled briefly upon his shoulder, and he became so still that she laughed again before gently brushing it away.

They continued through the garden together. Roy carried the heavier frames while Donaldina inspected the comb. She corrected his grip twice and accused him of treating the hives like siege engines. He replied that siege engines were less temperamental. By the time they reached the final box, dirt marked his knees, honey stained both their hands and a streak of wax crossed Donaldina’s sleeve.

Nothing had been settled entirely.

Cormac remained beyond the walls. The council would continue pressing. Marriage would bind not only two people but also clans, lands, and every expectation attached to their names. Yet, Roy stood beside her with honey upon his scarred hands, listening while she explained how to recognize a weakened colony.

Roy glanced down at the mud upon his knees, then at the honey streaking Donaldina’s gown. “We are both remarkably dirty.”

Donaldina inspected her sticky hands. “Aye. We should take a bath.”

Roy’s gaze lifted slowly to hers. “I shall have water sent tae yer chamber.”

“No,” she corrected, with a calmness entirely betrayed by the warmth rising into her cheeks. “Together.”

For once, Roy MacIver appeared to have no answer prepared.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Steam softened the edges of the chamber. It gathered upon the stone walls and clouded the narrow window above the hearth, shutting out Dun Ard until the room seemed to contain nothing beyond warm water, wavering candlelight, and Roy seated behind Donaldina in the bathing tub.

The water had already turned faintly gray from the soil they carried in from the garden. Small traces of honey floated across its surface, catching the light whenever either of them moved.

Donaldina rested against Roy’s chest while he poured water slowly over her shoulder. Neither had spoken much since entering the chamber. Words seemed unnecessary.

His hand moved along her arm with a damp linen cloth, wiping away the dirt gathered beneath her sleeve and the sticky sweetness clinging to her skin. His touch was careful despite the strength in his fingers. He cleaned each mark as though the task required the same attention he gave maps, wounds and weakened walls.