Page 94 of A Highland Bride Disciplined

Hamish’s reply was more measured.The MacLennans shall attend. Expect us on the third day. Your mother insists on bringing Skylar.Scarlett folded the letter carefully, her heart tightening at the thought of Astrid’s scrutiny, but she would not let it sour her anticipation.

By evening, answers from two lairds beyond her kin had arrived, both confirming attendance. One even promised to bring an extra hawk for the sport.

Scarlett wasted no time. She gathered Morag, Effie, and half a dozen servants into the great hall and began to issue orders. Tables to be shifted, rushes laid anew, tapestries dusted. The buttery needed to be stocked with wine and ale, the kitchens readied for feasts, and guest chambers aired after months of quiet.

“Three hogs, no less,” she declared, ticking through lists with the ease she’d honed these past months. “And see to it that the south orchard’s cider is brought up. Campbell will expect it.”

“Aye, m’lady,” Morag replied, though her raised brows suggested she approved more than she admitted.

Scarlett moved through the keep like a spark on dry straw, her energy igniting those around her. Effie darted in her wake with fresh ink and parchment, making notes as Scarlett remembered one detail after another. The servants bustled, the air filled with the scent of baking bread and polish on old wood. Even the guards straightened at the gates when she passed, their murmured greetings tinged with pride.

And yet, beneath the flurry of preparation, Scarlett felt the familiar tug of doubt.Would it be enough? Would they see me as capable, or as a bride too bold, clinging to a child not our own?

That night, when Elise fussed, Scarlett sat awake long after the babe had fallen asleep again, staring into the fire. She thought of Nieve’s letter. Of the way Kian’s jaw had clenched when he admitted the truth. Of how different he had been with her since.

For the first time, she dared hope.

Perhaps this hunt would not only strengthen their clan’s ties. Perhaps it would prove to her and to everyone that she was not simply holding a place until her laird reclaimed it.

That she belonged, and that Elise belonged with her.

“And everyone will ken it soon enough, sweet one,” she murmured into the child’s hair. A small hand drifted up and weaved into her hair possessively.

Everyone.

By the time dawn came, Scarlett rose with a purpose that steadied her more than sleep could. The hunt would be held. Her kin would come. And she, Lady Crawford, would meet them not as a frightened bride, but as mistress of this keep.

19

Horns sounded from the watch, low and cheerful, and the first wagon rolled under the arch just as the mist burned off the hills. Kian stood with Tam at the foot of the steps, hands clasped behind his back, face composed. Inside, the keep buzzed with dogs, boys, Morag’s bark ricocheting off stone, and the kitchen sending up the smell of roasting meat and oat bannocks.

Campbell Thomson swung down from his saddle like a man dropping off a cliff and landing on his feet. “Crawford,” he boomed, clapping Kian’s shoulder hard enough to shift bone. “If yer hunt’s half as fine as yer weather, I’ll forgive ye for that horse ye talked me out of last spring.”

“Ye were about to buy a lame cob from a liar,” Kian said. “I saved yer coin.”

“Aye, and now ye can save me dignity by puttin’ me nearest the deer.”

Behind Campbell, Mabel descended carefully, hand to the swell beneath her cloak. She moved with that wary grace of a woman who’d learned her limits and decided to ignore them anyway. Two small lads flanked her like bodyguards. Ollie, with eyes bright as mischief, and Connor tucked quiet at her side.

“Mind yer step,” Campbell fretted, hands hovering helplessly. “There’s a crack there —”

“I’m with child, nae blind, man,” Mabel said sweetly, rolling her eyes.

Ollie spotted Kian first. “Uncle Campbell says ye keep wolves,” he announced, chin up.

Kian cocked a brow. “Do I?”

“Aye,” Ollie said. “He says ye stare like one.”

Connor peered around his brother and whispered, “Hullo.”

Kian’s mouth twitched. “Hullo yersel’.” He nodded to Mabel. “Lady Muir. Ye look well.”

“Blasphemy,” Mabel said, laughing. “I look like I swallowed a pumpkin. Where’s Scarlett?”

“Right —” Kian started, and then she was there, coming through the doorway with the bairn in her arms, light catching in herhair. Elise made a soft sound, a contented gurgle, and Mabel’s whole face changed.

“Och,” she breathed. “Give her here, if ye trust me nae to bolt.”