Page 12 of A Highland Bride Disciplined (Scottish Daddies #2)
His mouth curled just slightly. “Because I will. I’m perfectly capable. In fact, I’d be happy to show ye what a carin’ husband I can be.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If ye so much as reach for a spoon, I’ll brain ye with it.”
“Then eat, woman.”
She glared at him. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, picked up the spoon and dipped it into the broth.
The first sip was divine.
She hated that she groaned aloud. Hated even more the way his brow lifted in amusement at the sound.
Saints above, save me — it’s so good...
The broth was salty and thick, laced with pepper. She tore off a piece of oatcake and dipped it, savoring the way it softened and broke apart in her mouth. The cheese was sharp and perfect, and the egg tasted like heaven, warm and simple and rich.
Kian said nothing as she ate. Just watched her, that same unreadable look on his face.
She didn’t stop until the bowl was empty and the oatcake reduced to crumbs. Her stomach no longer roared in protest. It purred like a contented cat.
She wiped her mouth with the napkin, then looked up at him.
“Well?” she said, trying not to sound like she cared.
He rose to his feet. “Good.”
She blinked. “Good?”
He nodded once. “Come to the study.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
Her first instinct was to argue. Reflexive. But then she looked at him again. Not angry. Not stern. Just solid. Like stone warmed in the sun. Still unreadable, still maddening, but anchored.
She stood slowly. “Fine,” she said, the word was clipped clean.
He turned, unfazed, and started toward the hall.
Scarlett followed, her fingers brushing the back of the chair as she passed it. For once, her limbs didn’t feel like sacks of flour.
The fire had died low in the hearth by the time they reached the study.
Kian moved with quiet purpose, his boots thudding softly against the floorboards as he crossed to the sideboard. Without asking, he uncorked the bottle of whiskey and poured two generous fingers into a pair of heavy glasses. The scent of smoke and peat wafted into the air.
Scarlett lingered in the doorway, arms folded, unsure of what this was meant to be.
Was this an interrogation? A peace offering?
He held one glass toward her. She took it slowly, her fingers brushing the rim just as his hand released it. He gestured for her to take a seat in the sofa behind her, and she did, and he leaned against the edge of the desk across from her.
“Tell me,” he started simply.
She blinked. “Tell ye what?”
“What happened. The day the bairn arrived. Tell me everything.”
Scarlett hesitated. Her fingers curled tighter around the glass. “Why?”
“Because I need to ken if we missed somethin’. If there’s a name we overlooked, or a mark on the babe’s wrappin’, or a whisper from a servant we ignored. Anythin’ that might lead us to who left her.”
Ah… so that was what he wanted. Still hunting. Still chasing shadows. Still thinking this was all temporary.
She took a sip of the whiskey. It burned her tongue, then her throat, and then pooled in her chest.
“She was found at the doorstep,” Scarlett said after a moment. “Mid mornin’, though the bairn was probably there around dawn. One of the kitchen girls was out fetchin’ water. Heard cryin’. She thought it was a cat at first.”
Kian said nothing, only watched her.
“She was bundled in a decent blanket. Wool. Nothin’ fancy, but clean. Warm. There was a note. Ye’ve read it.”
“I want to hear how it all unfolded. From ye.”
So she told him what happened, from her perspective, which ended up being very little. Scarlett kept her voice even, factual, like reciting the weather.
When she finished, Kian nodded once, then swirled the whiskey in his glass.
“She’s someone’s daughter,” he said. “We owe it to her, and them, to find out who she belongs to.”
Scarlett’s jaw tightened. “Even if they daenae want her?”
“We cannae just assume that.”
“Can we nae?” She stepped forward, setting her glass down on the desk with a soft thunk. “Kian, the note made it plain. They couldnae keep her. They wouldnae keep her. That’s nae confusion or panic speakin’. That’s a choice. A painful one, aye, but still a choice.”
“Or desperation,” he countered. “Poverty. Fear. Maybe they’re young. Maybe they’ve got nothin’. If it’s coin they need, I can help. I’ve done worse things with clan gold.”
“And if ye give her back, and they’re nay more ready for her than they were six days ago?” Scarlett asked coldly. “What then? What if she ends up in a worse place? What if she’s —?”
Her voice caught. She looked away.
Kian exhaled through his nose. “Then we’ll deal with it. But we have to try. That is the right thing to do.”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because that part of her was already too deeply invested to speak with reason.
Kian’s voice was gentler this time. “I ken she’s grown on ye.”
“She’s more than grown,” Scarlett snapped. “She’s nestled herself into every bloody crevice of me heart, like a weed with petals. And I daenae want to pull her out just because it might make some faceless person feel better about their mistake.”
He looked at her then. Really looked at her. And something shifted in his face. His mouth parted slightly, like he’d thought to speak and lost the words.
Then, quietly, he said, “ Ye’re afraid.”
Scarlett bristled. “I am nae.”
“Yes, ye are.”
She lifted her chin. “And what if I am? Am I nae allowed that?”
“That’s nae what I meant.”
“Then what did ye mean?”
Kian took a breath, like he was choosing his next words very carefully. “Ye’re actin’ like I’m here to take her from ye.”
“Are ye nae?”
“I want answers. I want clarity. But if they’re unfit, truly unfit, then that’s somethin’ else. But I willnae make a decision blind.”
Scarlett stood furiously, “Do ye think I cannae raise her?”
He blinked.
“I’ve done everything but feed her meself. Every nappie. I’ve managed her cries, her coos, her sleep, her gas, her every shiver and need. I’ve kept her alive. And loved her.” Her voice cracked on that last word, and she hated it.
Still, she pressed on. “So, tell me true, Kian. Do ye think I’m nae good enough?”
He looked furious now, but not at her. At the question.
“What are ye on about? What is this insecurity? Ye’re in over yer head, Scarlett. Ye said yerself ye arenae thinkin’ clearly where the bairn is involved,” he growled.
Scarlett’s hand curled into a fist. “Elise! Her name is Elise!”
She choked on the words. Her eyes burned.
Kian stepped forward.
She didn’t move.
His voice was low, like gravel and thunder.
“I never doubted ye . Nae once. Ye took that child and made her safe. Anyone, even I, can see that. I’m nae blind.
But I’ve spent years makin’ decisions with other men’s lives in me hands.
I cannae and willnae raise that child unless I’m sure it truly is the right thing to do. ”
She could barely breathe.
Their whiskey-lined anger twisted in the silence.
And then the space between them cracked like a dam giving way.
He lunged forward and grabbed her.
She grabbed him back.
Their mouths collided with all the fury they had both pent up. It was wild, reckless, and inevitable. She barely registered the thud of the stone wall behind her as the pressed her against it.
Kian’s hands were everywhere at once. Gripping her face, her waist, the curve of her hip. It was as though the eight months apart had made him forget how he had left her, and now he was desperate to learn every inch.
She kissed him out of spite, teeth scraping his lip.
He kissed her like a man unraveling. But still, he didn’t stop.
His lips moved against hers in a fevered rhythm, and she let him.
Her fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer until his body pinned hers fully to the wall. His thigh pressed between hers and she felt herself melt into him.
They were both caught between need and fury.
He smelled like sin, and it made her knees weak. The grip he had on her waist moved to her thighs as he flexed his arms and lifted her so that her legs could wrap around his hips.
And in that endless, burning moment, there was no keep. No clan. No crying child or cruel memory.
Just his mouth on hers, and the quiet, broken ache of two people who’d been starving for each other.