Page 213 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
The explanation sounded orderly while he said it. He believed it… until the last word left his mouth and the whole thing stood exposed for what it was.Delay.
Hector’s expression did not change. That made it worse.
“A few days,” he repeated.
Ciaran’s jaw tightened. “Would ye have me raise it now? Tonight? Shall I ask for his daughter to be sent back while the smoke is still in his hair?”
“Nay.” Hector shook his head. “I’d just have ye say what ye mean and stop wasting her time.”
The room went quiet.
Ciaran felt the weight of that more sharply than any accusation. Hector had not called him a liar. He had not needed to.
He poured another measure of whiskey and left it untouched. “What I mean,” he said, “is that this isnae the moment.”
Hector watched him. “Aye.”
Ciaran hated that response. He had meant to keep one thing steady in all of this. If he could not stop wanting his wife, he could at least keep hold of the fact that wanting her was a mistake and that there remained a way out before his want grew into something far worse. Now, even that ground had shifted.
He had still said he wanted an annulment. He had said it aloud again. He had not lied entirely. Yet every reason he gave for postponement exposed the real weakness. He wanted time. He wanted room. He wanted to use the old man’s presence as a shield against his own failure to act.
Hector drew a little closer to the desk and rested his hand against the back of a chair. “She matters more than ye planned.”
Ciaran gave a humorless breath. “That was clear enough the moment I opened me mouth, was it?”
“It was clearbeforethat.”
He said nothing as the bottle stood between them and the cup waited beside it. The study held the smell of whiskey, ink, and the cold air seeping in through the cracks in the window.
Hector looked at him for one beat longer, as though deciding whether to press harder or change the topic. Then he cleared his throat. “There’s something else ye should ken.”
Ciaran looked up. “What?”
“We still have nay names.” Hector folded his arms. “Nay one in MacKenna lands saw enough to suspect a hand behind it. Nay one has come forward with quarrels worth the risk. But the men I sent back felt watched on the road.”
The study went still.
“Watched how?”
Hector shrugged once. “Nay sight clear enough to chase. They only said they felt like they were being watched and everything was too quiet.”
Ciaran’s hand tightened around the cup.
That was worse than a poor suspect. A known enemy could be met. A hidden one required guesswork and long nerves. He thought of his father-in-law arriving burned and the dog under the chair at dinner.
“Who reported it?”
“Two guards separate from each other,” Hector replied. “I asked them apart. They told it the same.”
Ciaran released the cup. “Double the watch tonight. I want two men on each path, nae one. Change them faster so nay one grows dull because they stood too long.”
Hector nodded. “All right.”
“Also, make certain nay gate is opened after dark without me permission or yers. If anyone sees movement beyond the trees, I want it followed and reported.”
Hector nodded again. “Aye.”
“And spread word around the castle. Nay wandering after supper. Nae the servants, nae the guests—nay one.”
