Page 10 of A Highland Bride Disciplined (Scottish Daddies #2)

T he wailing started up just after midnight.

Kian opened one eye and stared at the wooden beams above his bed, waiting to see if the sound would stop on its own.

It didn’t.

The child cried like her lungs had been lit on fire, shrill and aching. No rhythm to it. No pause for breath. Just relentless noise cutting through the thick stone walls of Crawford Keep like a blade.

With a groan, he swung his legs off the bed and shoved his feet into his boots, not bothering to lace them. The floor was cold. So was the air. His patience was colder still.

Three nights since his return, and already he was regretting not throwing that damned letter into the hearth.

The nursery door was ajar when he reached it, faint candlelight spilling through the crack. The crying had stopped, replaced by a low, soothing hum. Scarlett’s voice.

He pushed the door open slowly, letting it creak just enough to announce himself.

She stood by the cradle, holding the bairn against her chest. Her hair was loose, falling around her shoulders in waves of burnished copper. Her robe was hastily knotted, the neckline tugged askew as if Elise had tried to climb inside it for warmth.

He opened his mouth.

She turned her head sharply, eyes catching his, and pressed a finger to her lips.

“Shhh,” she whispered. “I just got her to sleep.”

He blinked.

He, Laird of Crawford, had just been shushed like a misbehaving stable boy.

The nerve of this infuriating woman.

His teeth grit together as he stepped inside, careful not to let the door bang shut behind him. “Ye’ve nay right,” he began, voice low but hard.

“Hush, Kian! Christ above,” she hissed again, shooting him a look that could peel paint.

His spine straightened. “Ye enjoy orderin’ folk around, do ye?”

She adjusted the baby slightly, not even looking at him. “Only when they deserve it.”

He stepped closer. “Oh, I deserve it now, do I?”

Scarlett simply moved toward the cradle without another word. Elise stirred but didn’t cry. Her tiny face scrunched up, then relaxed again.

Both of them froze.

Scarlett shot him a glare over her shoulder. “See what ye’ve done.”

“I havenae done anything. She was wailin’ when I got here.”

“She was already back to sleep.”

“She is still asleep.”

Scarlett rocked the baby gently in her arms. “Barely.”

Kian kept his voice tight. “Why did ye not send for the nursemaid?”

“Gone back to the village for the night.”

“One of the staff, then.”

“She only quiets for me wi’out the nursemaid… me and Morag. But mostly me. I’m caring for her.”

That irritated him more than it should have. Of course she quieted for Scarlett. She was warm and soft and smelled like lavender. Even he had trouble staying annoyed in her presence. But this was someone else’s job, and his wife was wearing herself thin.

He moved to stand beside her. The fire in the hearth was low, casting soft orange light across her face.

She looked exhausted. There were clear, dark smudges under her eyes, her lips were slightly chapped like she was parched, and her hair was a bit tangled, but none of it dulled the curve of her mouth or the quiet glow in her cheeks.

He swallowed hard.

Scarlett laid the baby down in the cradle with practiced ease, her hands gentle, her movements smooth. Elise stirred once, then let out a sigh and settled again.

They both stared down at her in silence, as if any noise might undo the miracle of sleep.

Scarlett’s voice came a moment later, low and sharp. “If ye’ve come to complain, best do it wi’out wakin’ her.”

“I wasnae complainin’.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

They stood there, barely breathing. So close he could feel the warmth from her body bleeding into his.

Kian’s gaze dropped to her lips.

She was biting the lower one, thoughtful, maybe tense. Then, slowly, she released it and wet it with her tongue.

His stomach clenched.

His mind, so sharp with strategy and figures and control, failed him entirely.

It would be so easy. One step. One breath. One hand at her waist and his mouth on hers.

Shut her up.

Claim her.

Remind her she was still his, no matter how many ledgers she balanced or orders she barked.

Scarlett looked up at him then, as if she felt the turn in the air.

Their eyes locked.

He saw her throat move with a swallow. Saw her lips part, just slightly. Her breath grazed his chin, and hers caught as if she’d only just realized how close they stood.

She was about to say or do something.

He couldn’t let her.

Couldn’t let himself.

Kian cleared his throat and stepped back half a pace. “Ye’ve a way with her,” he said, forcing the words out. “The child.”

Scarlett blinked once. The spell broke.

He gestured to the cradle. “Ye seem to ken what she needs.”

Scarlett folded her arms, defensive. “I’ve been the only one botherin’ to learn . It doesnae come natural.”

Kian ignored that jab. “That kind of calm… it doesnae come easy. Not wi’ infants. I’ve seen grown men fall apart at the sound of a baby cryin’.”

She raised a brow. “Are ye includin’ yerself in that?”

He yawned, feigning indifference. “I’ve not cried yet, have I?”

“Ye’ve growled plenty.”

“It’s in me nature.”

Her mouth twitched. “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

He nearly smiled. Nearly.

But his hands were still clenched at his sides, his pulse hammering behind his ribs.

Christ, I want to take her right here and now. Her and that sinful tongue…

He wanted to bend her back against the wall and kiss her until she stopped challenging him. Until she forgot every cruel thing he’d done. Until she melted.

But instead, he stepped away from her and said, “The fire’s dyin’. I’ll throw another log on.”

He needed anything to do with his hands besides reaching for her. And he felt her eyes follow him the whole way across the room, burning a hole in his tunic.

Scarlett hadn’t moved from the cradle, arms crossed beneath her chest, one bare foot half-tucked under the other. The firelight brushed across her in warm gold, casting her features in soft shadow and making her look damnably like she belonged in this room, in this role, more than he ever had.

Kian forced himself to look at the baby instead.

Elise was sleeping, limbs splayed like a tiny drunkard, the blanket tucked neatly beneath her but not covering her.

He frowned. “Ye should cover her.”

Scarlett didn’t even glance at him. “She’ll kick it off.”

“She’ll get cold.”

“She sleeps warm.”

Kian arched a brow. “How in God’s name would ye ken that?”

“Because I’ve been the one watchin’ her. Cuddlin’ her. Learnin’ her.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Well. If ye’d prefer she catch her death.”

Scarlett turned slowly, eyes flashing. “And if ye’d prefer to smother her wi’ a blanket, feel free to try.”

Kian held her gaze. “I’ll have ye ken I’ve seen more than a few bairns in me time.”

“Oh, aye?” she snapped. “Where? In brothels and taverns while ye were gallivantin’ across the country for eight bloody months?”

Kian’s spine straightened. “I was in Edinburgh for business.”

“Oh, aye, business .”

He hadn’t expected that to sting. But it did.

Scarlett’s eyes were sharp as ever, but there was something frayed beneath them. Something raw. She wasn’t just angry. She was tired. She was disappointed. And that pierced him deeper than any blade has.

Kian’s voice came rougher than intended, “I bartered our clan’s future with men who’d sell us for a dram.

Every day was a fight. Every word a risk.

I daenae regret it, so I’ll thank ye kindly for this being the last time ye throw it at me head.

” He stepped closer, voice lowering, “I ken how much ye’ve done for this clan in me absence, and if I havenae said it yet, I’ll say it now clearly, Thank ye, Scarlett. ”

Her shoulders sank a fraction, though her chin lifted stubbornly.

But Kian didn’t stop there. His eyes traced her face, lingering on the curve of her mouth.

“Ken this, lass — ye may run the keep, and ye may fight me at every turn, but daenae mistake me gratitude for weakness.” His hand flexed at his side, aching to touch her but refusing. “I’ll always claim what’s mine.”

Scarlett’s pulse fluttered in her throat, though she gave a scoff that rang hollow. She stepped away from the cradle with deliberate, practiced grace.

“Well, since ye’re feelin’ so generous, we do need to hire a new nursemaid. The one we’ve got is with child herself.”

He blinked. “The nursemaid’s pregnant?”

“Aye. Two months on, by the healer’s guess. She’ll be slow soon, and I willnae have Elise neglected.”

Kian raked a hand through his hair. “Of course she is,” he muttered. “It’s a cursed plague, I swear.”

“To some,” she said through gritted teeth.

He ignored the jab. “Fine. I’ll send word to the steward. He’ll put out the call and vet a few candidates. Ye can choose from there.”

Scarlett looked him over, expression unreadable. “I can choose?”

“Aye,” he said, more curtly than he meant to. “If I’ve learned anything since walkin’ back into this damned keep, it’s that ye’ll do what ye like regardless of what I say.”

She tilted her head. “That’s the smartest thing ye’ve said all night.”

Kian’s jaw flexed.

It was infuriating. Everything about her was infuriating. The way she challenged him. The way she never yielded. The way her voice dripped with scorn and certainty.

And still he wanted her.

Not just the feel of her. Not just her mouth or her skin or her thighs, though he’d thought of all of it, too often, but the fire. The fight. The way she met him blow for blow, never breaking, never bending.

He’d never wanted anyone like this. It wasn’t desire. It was possession. Obsession.

He wasn’t sure he liked it.

He certainly couldn’t control it.

And that, more than anything, angered him.

Scarlett’s words about the nursemaid still hung in the air sharply.

In two strides he was in front of her. His hand caught her chin, tilting her face up to his. Her lips parted on a startled breath, and he felt the shiver run through her.

“Ye’ll nae mock me, Scarlett,” he growled. “Daenae think I’ll stand here and be dismissed like a servant.”

Her green eyes flashed defiantly. “Then what will ye do, Kian?” she whispered, like a dare, though her voice trembled.

For a heartbeat, he nearly showed her. Nearly crushed his mouth to hers, claimed her the way his body screamed for. He could taste the heat of her breath.

But Elise had shifted in her sleep, her hand curled tight into a fist beside her cheek.

He took a breath. “I’ll get her what she needs.”

Kian tried not to look at Scarlett’s mouth again, and he failed.

Scarlett’s upper lip had curled slightly as if he’d just presented her with a dead fish.

“Is that nae what ye wished to hear?”

“That’s just it, Kian. Ye’re just sayin’ what I wish to hear and nae what ye ken damn well is right.”

“Christ,” he muttered, pacing the length of the nursery. His boots moved soundless, his chest rattled.

Scarlett’s voice followed him, deceptively calm. “Are ye plannin’ to stride a hole in the floor, or is that just how ye process emotion?”

Kian’s brow ticked. “I was tryin’ nae to say somethin’ I’ll regret.”

“Oh, daenae hold back on me account. I’d hate for ye to bottle up all that brooding rage.”

He turned, slowly. “And ye ? Ye’ve done nothin’ but snipe since I walked through the gates.”

“Forgive me if I’m nae weepin’ with joy to see the man who abandoned his wife on her wedding night waltz back in like he owns the place.”

Kian stepped closer, “I do own the place, Scarlett. It’s mine.”

They were nose to nose now. The cradle sat quiet between them, the only barrier to the heat pulsing from every word.

“I just — I hated…” Scarlett started to say, but the words seemingly stuck in her throat.

Me. She hates me.

“I just hated wonderin’ if ye were ever comin’ back…”

They stood in the flickering firelight, both breathing hard, both too stubborn to be the first to look away.

And still, God help him, he wanted her.

His gaze dropped again to the lips that had just spat fury, to the column of her throat, to the way her robe had shifted once more, exposing a pale sliver of collarbone.

She noticed. Of course she did.

Scarlett arched a brow, as if daring him to cross the line they both stood toeing.

He didn’t.

Instead, he straightened.

Barely.

“Ye said ye wouldnae raise the bairn alone,” he said. “So let’s be clear.”

Scarlett waited.

“I’ll provide what she needs,” he went on. “Food. Care. A nursemaid. And if any harm comes to her, I’ll take the head off whoever’s responsible. That includes ye. ”

Her jaw tightened. “Duly noted.”

He crossed his arms. “And she’ll have a proper education. None of this folklore shite Effie’s been fillin’ her head with.”

“At six months old?”

“It starts early.”

Scarlett smirked. “Next ye’ll be sayin’ ye want her readin’ the clan records by age two.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Three. I’ll be reasonable.”

“Ye? Reasonable?” She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Now that’s the jest of the night.”

They stared at each other again.

Only this time, the air didn’t feel sharp. It felt thick. Tangled. Like threads of something they couldn’t name looping tighter around them with every breath.

Kian swallowed. “For her.”

“Aye,” Scarlett said, voice quiet now. “For her.”

They didn’t smile. There was no softening. But something in the room settled , like a ceasefire declared under duress.

Then, without meaning to, his eyes dropped again.

Her lips. Always her damned lips.

Scarlett noticed.

And suddenly, they weren’t just standing too close. They were both leaning in, closing the space between them.

He didn’t even realize it until he could see the flecks of green in her irises. Until he could feel the warmth of her skin through the space between them. Until she tilted her chin just enough that the distance between them became dangerous.

Her gaze flicked to his mouth.

He whispered her name under his breath like a curse.

The caress of her lips was less than a breath away, but she stepped back. Not abruptly. Not rudely. Just deliberately.

Her eyes were unreadable now. Guarded.

She adjusted the tie of her robe and smoothed her palm down the fabric like she needed the movement to remind herself of where she stood.

“I’m goin’ to bed,” she said simply.

Kian didn’t answer. He couldn’t trust himself to.

Scarlett turned toward the door, her steps quiet, sure. At the threshold, she paused, but didn’t look back.

“I’ll leave the fire for ye,” she said. “In case ye find yerself wakin’ again.”

And then she was gone.

Kian stood alone in the nursery, the fire crackling low, the cradle creaking softly as Elise shifted in her sleep.

He stared at the spot where Scarlett had stood, her warmth still lingering in the air and clinging to his lungs like smoke.

He exhaled.

Long. Slow.

“Leave the fire in here, or…” he muttered.

He didn’t have the answer. Only the echo of her voice in his head, and the soft imprint of her almost-kiss still tingling at the edge of his mouth.