Page 44 of Promised to the Cursed Laird

"Then we make the effort for him." Baird again. "Quietly. She neednae ken the whole of what's at stake tae the clan, only that leaving would undo more than her own comfort. A woman raised on duty understands duty, if it's put tae her plainly enough."

Put tae me plainly. As though I'm a ledger entry tae be balanced.

Her hands had curled into fists against the cold stone rail, her whole chest gone tight and hot at once., Whatever warmth she'd let herself believe in over the last handful of days, none of it changed the plain fact sitting in that chamber below her: to his council, she was worth exactly what her marriage could secure, and nothing more.

He said I wasnae his prisoner. He said the choice was mine. And the whole while his own council sits in that chamber deciding how tae make certain I choose the way that suits the clan.

She didn't stay to hear the rest of it. She was already moving fast, down the gallery stair and along the corridor toward his study, her fury outpacing any careful plan for what she'd say when she reached him. Right now there was only the hot, climbing certainty that she'd been made a fool of again–softer this time, prettier, but a fool all the same.

She found him at his table, the same as every evening, and didn't wait for him to look up.

"Ye told me I was free tae choose," she said.

He set down his quill immediately, something in her voice bringing him fully upright. "Neilina⁠—"

"I heard yer council. Baird and some others, in the small chamber, discussing how best tae see me managed intae staying, since ye've been too great a fool tae secure it yerself." Her voice was climbing and she let it, because level hadn't served her with Cailleach and it wasn't going to fare any better here. "Duty, they called it. As though I'm a debt tae be collected."

"That isnae⁠—"

"Ye stood on yer battlements and told me what happens inside the Accord was ours tae decide. Ye walked me through yer gates and told me tae take whichever horse I liked." Her hands were shaking now, she noticed distantly, and didn't try to still them. "And the whole while, yer council sits belowstairs deciding how tae keep me here regardless of whatever fine words ye've been feeding me tae make it easier tae swallow."

"I've nae hand in what my council says when I'm nae in the room."

"Ye've every hand in it. Ye're their laird. If they believed for one moment ye truly meant tae let me go, they'd nae be sitting there plotting how tae stop it—they'd have accepted it, same as they accepted everything else ye've told them since I arrived." She was breathing too fast, her chest too tight, and beneath the fury sat something else, something that hurt considerably worse than anger did. "Was any of it true. The gates. The horse. The battlements, and everything ye told me there. Or was it only ever meant tae buy my trust long enough that I'd stop looking for the door."

"Neilina, that isnae fair⁠—"

"Naething about the last week has been fair," she said, "and I'm done pretending otherwise tae make either of us feel better about it."

"If ye'll only let me explain what was actually said⁠—"

"I willnae." She was already turning, already moving for the door, because she could feel the other thing rising now beneath the anger. She felt the humiliating, traitorous urge to cry, and she'd be damned before she let him see that on top of everything else. "I've heard quite enough explaining from quite enough men this week tae last me the rest of my life."

She left him standing there, quill forgotten, and didn't look back to see what was on his face, because whatever it was, she didn't trust herself not to soften at the sight of it, and she needed, right now, to hold onto being right.

The bath had been Elspeth's idea, offered gently once she'd seen the state of Neilina's face on returning from the study, and Neilina had accepted it gratefully, because hot water and the small, ordinary business of getting ready for dinner gave her something to do with her hands that wasn't shaking with residual fury.

"Ye're quiet tonight, my lady," Elspeth said, working a comb gently through the wet ends of Neilina's hair where it hung loose over the tub's edge.

"I dinnae ken what tae believe of him anymore." Neilina watched the steam curl up off the water, her knees drawn up, arms wrapped loose around them. "He says one thing with his mouth and his whole household seems tae be working toward another entirely. I cannae tell any longer which of it is true."

"He's a laird, my lady, nae a saint." Elspeth's voice was gentle, but there was a plain, unhurried honesty in it that Neilina had come to trust more than she trusted most things in this keep. "His council will always want what serves the clan. That disnae mean he wants the same, only that he cannae fully silence them from wanting it."

"That's a fine distinction ye're all so fond of drawing in this household."

"Mmm." Elspeth set the comb aside, rose, brushing off her apron. "I'll fetch the gown ye favored for dinner, I left it in the linen press down the hall. I'll nae be but a moment."

The door clicked shut behind her, and Neilina let her head fall back against the tub's rim, closing her eyes, the water still warm enough to ease some of the tightness between her shoulders, her mind still turning over Baird's voice through the gallery floor.

A woman raised on duty understands duty.

I understand it better than any of them credit me for. I simply willnae be managed intae it and called grateful for the managing.

The door opened again, and she didn't open her eyes immediately, assuming Elspeth had returned. "That was quick⁠—"

She stopped.

Marcas stood just inside the door, one hand still on the latch, entirely frozen in the doorway. For one long, suspended moment neither of them moved at all—she too startled to reach for anything, he too startled, apparently, to remember how doors worked.