Page 53 of A Highland Bride Disciplined

He smirked. “Shocking.”

Scarlett considered. “I once tried to marry off one of me dolls to the smallest goat in the stables so they would bring him into the Keep for the winter. Claimed he had fine bone structure and better manners than the Earl’s son.”

Kian choked on his wine.

Scarlett grinned at the sight, suddenly ten years lighter. “Me sisters still bring it up anytime we pass a field.”

“Saints help the goat,” he muttered, wiping his mouth. “What happened to him?”

“Found true love behind the chicken coop. They eloped.”

That earned a small, genuine laugh from him.

Scarlett let it warm her.

For a time, they just spoke. Of nothing serious. Of turnip harvests and missing chickens and the peculiarities of the castle cook who swore by crushed garlic and flannel shirts.

But when the plates were cleared and the wine glasses refilled, Kian leaned forward with that familiar glint in his eyes.

And then, just like that, the spell was broken.

“We’ll host the Michaelmas Festival in a fortnight,” he said.

Scarlett blinked, caught off guard by the return to formality. “Will we now?”

“Aye. The villagers expect it, and the clan needs somethin’ to lift morale.”

“Ye ken about the clan’s morale? Ye’ve naught been back a week.”

“I ken me clan. Daenae forget that.”

“Well, then, by all means… I agree.” Her tone matched his, all brisk and sharp-edged. “There’ll be new tables needed. Effie’s broken two.”

“Christ above! How can ye stand the girl’s incompetence?”

“She is me maid, and I’ll do with her as I see fit. I’ll thank ye to remember that before passing judgement or sentence.”

“Fine then. The tables. Tam’s arranged for the carpenters to come and take inventory anyway. They’ll get it sorted.”

“We’ll need a brewer. If ye want them merry, better start now.”

“I’ve spoken to MacKinnon. He’ll send his best barrels… and our own whiskey. Though, Effie isnae allowed to touch a drop.”

Scarlett allowed a begrudging smile. “Wise.”

“It needs to be perfect. That’s all me… correctionourpeople ken since I’ve been their laird.”

“Of course.”

Their banter turned quick, efficient. Ideas volleyed back and forth like stones across a pond. Scarlett suggested hanging lanterns across the courtyard. Kian countered with hiring a piper instead of trusting their usual wailing fiddler.

When they agreed to double the meat order and have Morag oversee the feast directly, he finally sat back.

“Well?” he asked. “Anythin’ else?”

She hesitated.

Because now she realized something painful.