Page 95 of A Highland Bride Disciplined

“Ye’d nae get far,” Scarlett teased, handing Elise over. “Nae with Campbell and his army o’ worriers.”

Campbell puffed up. “I am nay worrier. I am vigilant.”

Ollie planted himself between Mabel and the world, arms spread wide, a pint-sized shield. “No one touch me mam.”

Connor copied him, just slower.

“Good men,” Kian said, solemn. “Keep her safe.” He glanced at Campbell. “Trainin’s taken.”

“On account o’ the lad who put a frog in her slipper,” Campbell muttered. “Never again.”

Before Kian could reply, the second horn sounded. The MacLennans arrived like a traveling story. Hamish, large as legend, Astrid like a painted saint with sharp opinions, and Skylar already half out of the carriage before it stopped.

“Daughter,” Hamish rumbled, arms open.

Scarlett slid to him carefully around the baby now nestled against Mabel’s shoulder. “Da.”

Astrid’s gaze snagged on Elise as a magpie finds silver. “Well,” she said, voice gone soft despite herself. “And who is this wee angel?” She kissed Scarlett’s cheek, then studied the child again with a calculating affection. “Pretty as butter. But, Scarlett, d’ye mean to?—”

“She’s called Elise,” Scarlett said, quiet, pride threaded through. “And aye, Maither, wedomean to.”

Skylar, all unruly braid and boots, leaned close to the bairn and cooed, then poked Scarlett’s side. “Tell me everything. Start with the scandal. There’s always a scandal.”

Hamish clasped Kian’s forearm. “Laird.” He gave a weighty, approving nod. “Keep looks strong.”

“It’s holdin’,” Kian said. “We’ll keep it so.”

Astrid finally turned fully to him, smile polished. “Laird Crawford. We’re grateful for yer hospitality.” Her eyes slid back to Scarlett with a mother’s merciless aim. “And perhaps soon we’ll be grateful for a grandbairn or two o’ yerownas well.”

Kian felt heat climb his spine. A dozen answers leapt to his tongue, most of them unfit for a Sunday. He opened his mouth.

Scarlett’s hand brushed his sleeve, just a whisper of touch, and she stepped forward with the kind of poise that always made him feel both proud and dangerously undone. “Maither,” she said pleasantly, “if ye’d like another bairn underfoot, I’ll speak wi’ the Almighty about His calendar — see if He’d like yer counsel.”

Skylar snorted. Campbell coughed a laugh into his fist. Astrid’s brows flew up, then settled with a thin smile that saidtouche´… for now.

Kian shut his mouth.Doesnae need me at all,he thought, not certain if the realization irritated or charmed him. Both, likely.

They moved to the long board beneath the gallery. The midday meal ran hearty and loud. It was venison pasties, collops in gravy, bannocks and butter, carrots glazed till they shone. Morag hovered like a warship keeping order, keys singing. Kian took the head, Scarlett to his right, Mabel and the boys close so Campbell could count their breaths between bites.

The hall hummed. Kian watched more than he spoke, filing faces, weighing moods. Elise passed from arm to arm with indifferent serenity, accepting adoration as her due. When she fussed, Scarlett had her back in a heartbeat, her cheek to the bairn’s soft crown, a sway he knew now by feel. He didn’t realize he’d gone quiet, simply watching, until Tam nudged his boot under the table.

“Eat,” Tam muttered. “Yer starin’ like the wolf the lad promised.”

“Mind yer own business,” Kian said without heat, and reached for a bannock.

Across the board, Skylar had Scarlett cornered between platters. Kian caught snatches.

Mabel, wiser and very pregnant, simply watched Scarlett with a small, knowing smile that saidI ken what it is to be pulled toward a man.When Scarlett described the late-night dealings with the crying bairn, the almost-kiss in the nursery turned into something chaste by the shape of her mouth, Mabel’s eyes warmed further.

“And ye?” Mabel asked gently. “How’s yer heart?”

Scarlett busied herself with Elise’s ribbon. “Occupational,” she said. “Beats. Mostly in rhythm.”

“Mm,” Mabel hummed, not fooled.

At Kian’s left, Hamish leaned in. “So, ye’re hostin’ half the Highlands for a hunt,” he said, good humor under the gravel.

“Only the useful half,” Kian returned. “And only long enough to eat my meat and tell me their secrets.”