Page 75 of A Highland Bride Disciplined

Scarlett almost laughed at that. Almost. “I’m nae —”

He stepped closer, close enough that the smell of clean wool, leather, and the faintest trace of smoke wrapped around her. “Come now. Unless ye want Tam to find some excuse to drag ye into it.”

Her lips parted to argue, but the sight of him, his eyes dark with a challenge, and his hand outstretched unraveled her resistance.

“Fine.” She slipped her hand into his.

The crowd seemed to part for them as they moved toward the dancing green. A piper struck up a reel, the drum keeping a lively beat, and the couples already in motion clapped as they joined.

Kian’s hand settled at her waist, his palm warm even through the velvet. They stepped into the rhythm, her skirts swaying, his boots moving with the kind of surety that made her suspect he was good at this. Infuriatingly good.

“Ye’re smirking,” she said after a turn.

“Am I.”

“Aye.”

“Mayhap I’m enjoyin’ myself.”

“Or mayhap ye’re pleased that ye’ve managed to manhandle me into doing what ye wanted again.”

His mouth curved into something closer to a grin. “Could be both.”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes but felt the heat rise in her cheeks all the same. The music quickened; they spun with the other couples, the air whipping strands of her hair loose. For a moment she forgot the ache in her chest.

By the time the reel ended, they were both flushed, breath coming faster. The crowd clapped and called for another, but Kian guided her toward one of the long tables set with food.

“Eat,” he said simply, nodding toward a platter of roasted pheasant, bowls of root vegetables glazed with butter, and golden rounds of bannocks.

She arched a brow. “Is that an order, Laird Crawford?”

“If it were, ye’d already be sittin’.”

Her lips twitched again despite herself. “Bossy.”

“Alive,” he countered. “Ye’ll do better at both if ye keep yer strength.”

She let out a quiet huff but took the plate he handed her. Around them, the festival roared on.

And yet, even with the world in motion around her, Scarlett found her gaze drifting back to the keep. To the window she knew belonged to the nursery.

Kian followed her line of sight. “She’s safe,” he said, not unkindly.

Scarlett nodded, though the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen.

Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and the dancing. Hair had loosened in the evening breeze, a few errant strands curling against her neck in a way that made his pulse race.

She caught sight of him and her smile changed. It was still bright, but sharper now, like she’d just remembered who she was smiling at.

He closed the distance between them in a few easy strides. “Enjoyin’ yerself?”

“Aye,” she said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “For once, I’ve nae had to chase after anyone with a ledger or a broom.”

Kian’s mouth quirked. “Give it another hour. Someone’s bound to spill the cider or fight over the last bannock.”

“Ye say that like it’s tradition.”

“It is. Only difference is whether it’s settled wi’ words or fists.” He glanced toward the fiddlers. “Reckon ye’ve one more reel in ye?”