Page 112 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

David hesitated.

Then decided honesty was better than evasion. They'd promised to be truthful with each other. "I'm storin' it. As proof."

"Proof of what?" But her voice suggested she already knew.

"That our marriage was consummated." He saw her expression shift, color draining from her cheeks, and continued quickly. "The Duke might ask. If he sends investigators or demands evidence that our marriage is legitimate. This—" He held up the sheet. "This is proof that cannae be disputed."

Elinor's face went pale. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly looking very small. "You're keeping it to show the Duke?"

"Only if necessary. Only if he demands it." David set the sheet down on the bed and moved toward her. "If it comes down tae provin' our marriage is real or havin' it annulled⁠—"

"I understand." Her voice was tight. "It's necessary."

"I'm sorry." He pulled her into his arms, feeling her trembling slightly. "I wish none of this was necessary. I wish we could just—be married. Without havin' tae prove anythin' tae anyone."

"But we can't." She rested her head against his chest. "Because we lied to the regent. And now we have to live with the consequences of that lie."

They stood like that for a long moment, the weight of their situation pressing down on them both. David could feel the tension in her body, the worry that had been building all day as she prepared for the man’s arrival.

"Ye're nervous," David said finally, stating the obvious. "About the king. About what might happen when he arrives."

"Of course I'm nervous. Aren't you?"

"Aye. But worryin' willnae change anythin'. It'll just make the next two days miserable." He pulled back to look at her, brushing a thumb across her cheek. "Come with me. We both need a break from all this."

"David, I have so much to do."

"And it'll still be there when we get back. Malcolm kens what needs tae happen. The servants ken their jobs. Ye've organized everythin' brilliantly." He took her hand. "Come on. Fresh air will dae ye good. Help ye think more clearly."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere peaceful. Somewhere we can both breathe." He squeezed her hand. "Trust me?"

She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Always."

They rode out through the gates half an hour later, David on his grey stallion and Elinor on a gentle mare. The afternoon was clear and cold, the kind of day where the air felt sharp in your lungs and every breath seemed to wake something up inside you.

David led them north, toward a place he'd loved as a boy. A loch tucked into the hills, surrounded by trees and always peaceful, no matter what was happening in the rest of the world.

When it came into view, he heard her gasp of delight.

"It's beautiful."

"Aye. Me maither used tae bring me here when I was a bairn." David dismounted, then moved to help Elinor down. His hands lingered on her waist perhaps longer than necessary. "Said it was the one place she could think clearly. Where the noise of the castle couldnae reach her."

They walked to the edge of the water, where smooth stones lined the shore. The loch was still and clear, reflecting the sky like polished glass. Small ripples disturbed the surface where fish jumped for insects.

"I can see why she loved it," Elinor said softly. "It's like the rest of the world doesn't exist here."

"Aye." David picked up a stone, skipping it across the water. One, two, three skips before it sank. "I kept coming here after she left. Spent hours just—sittin'. Tryin' tae understand why things had tae be the way they were."

"Did you ever figure it out?"

"Nay. But I stopped needin' tae." He turned to her. "Eventually, I realized some things just are. And ye can either let them destroy ye or ye can find peace despite them."

Elinor was quiet for a moment, absorbing his words. Then she moved to the water's edge, crouching down to trail her fingers in it.

"It's cold," she said, pulling back quickly and shaking water droplets from her hand.