Page 15 of A Highland Bride Disciplined (Scottish Daddies #2)

But if he kept looking at her like he had earlier, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle her or kiss her again, well, then she might let him try.

She stepped back into the room and found him waiting still. His arms were folded, his broad frame backlit by the hallway torches.

He glanced up at her approach.

“Ready?” he asked.

Scarlett tilted her chin. “Born ready.”

“Let’s see if that’s true.” He held out an arm, surprisingly formal.

She considered ignoring it. But something about the way he waited, a man raised on honor, made her reach out and take it after all.

And with that, they walked together toward dinner.

The private dining hall was quieter than Scarlett expected. Just the hush of candle flames, the scrape of porcelain, and the distant sound of the keep settling for the night.

Kian held the door open for her like a proper gentleman, though his eyes were still too sharp for comfort. Always watching. Always measuring.

She took her seat anyway.

Two covered dishes awaited them on the long table which had been kept warm through the delay. Scarlett smoothed her skirts as Kian took the seat opposite her.

The silence stretched like drawn string between them.

It was Kian who broke it. “I asked Morag to prepare something simpler tonight. I dinnae want to waste a full feast if ye were goin’ to disappear again.”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “I was waitin’ on Effie. That wasn’t disappearin’. That was out of me hands.”

He huffed. “Ye’re always ready with an excuse.”

“And ye’re always ready with a lecture. That’s the difference between us.”

A servant entered to uncover the food, setting out wine and fresh bread, then vanished as quickly as she came. Scarlett eyed the spread. Tonight it was a roast fowl, fresh greens, warm turnip mash, and a tart that looked shockingly good for something baked without her supervision.

They began eating in silence, but it didn’t last.

Kian surprised her. “Tell me what ye were like as a child?”

Scarlett looked up, blinking. “What?”

“Ye heard me.”

She hesitated, chewing slowly. “Bossy.”

He smirked. “Shocking.”

Scarlett considered. “I once tried to marry off one of me dolls to the smallest goat in the stables so they would bring him into the Keep for the winter. Claimed he had fine bone structure and better manners than the Earl’s son.”

Kian choked on his wine.

Scarlett grinned at the sight, suddenly ten years lighter. “Me sisters still bring it up anytime we pass a field.”

“Saints help the goat,” he muttered, wiping his mouth. “What happened to him?”

“Found true love behind the chicken coop. They eloped.”

That earned a small, genuine laugh from him.

Scarlett let it warm her.

For a time, they just spoke. Of nothing serious. Of turnip harvests and missing chickens and the peculiarities of the castle cook who swore by crushed garlic and flannel shirts.

But when the plates were cleared and the wine glasses refilled, Kian leaned forward with that familiar glint in his eyes.

And then, just like that, the spell was broken.

“We’ll host the Michaelmas Festival in a fortnight,” he said.

Scarlett blinked, caught off guard by the return to formality. “Will we now?”

“Aye. The villagers expect it, and the clan needs somethin’ to lift morale.”

“Ye ken about the clan’s morale? Ye’ve naught been back a week.”

“I ken me clan. Daenae forget that.”

“Well, then, by all means… I agree.” Her tone matched his, all brisk and sharp-edged. “There’ll be new tables needed. Effie’s broken two.”

“Christ above! How can ye stand the girl’s incompetence?”

“She is me maid, and I’ll do with her as I see fit. I’ll thank ye to remember that before passing judgement or sentence.”

“Fine then. The tables. Tam’s arranged for the carpenters to come and take inventory anyway. They’ll get it sorted.”

“We’ll need a brewer. If ye want them merry, better start now.”

“I’ve spoken to MacKinnon. He’ll send his best barrels… and our own whiskey. Though, Effie isnae allowed to touch a drop.”

Scarlett allowed a begrudging smile. “Wise.”

“It needs to be perfect. That’s all me… correction our people ken since I’ve been their laird.”

“Of course.”

Their banter turned quick, efficient. Ideas volleyed back and forth like stones across a pond. Scarlett suggested hanging lanterns across the courtyard. Kian countered with hiring a piper instead of trusting their usual wailing fiddler.

When they agreed to double the meat order and have Morag oversee the feast directly, he finally sat back.

“Well?” he asked. “Anythin’ else?”

She hesitated.

Because now she realized something painful.

She had asked nothing of him. Not once.

Not about his childhood. Not how his journey had gone. Not how he had slept. Not how he’d fared in the city, if his business had been successful, or if the letters she’d sent had helped or hurt.

And he had noticed. She could see it in the careful way he was waiting.

“No,” she said quietly. Stubbornly.

Kian tilted his head.

But before he could respond, the door opened, and Tam entered with his usual silent tread. He walked over to the opposite side of the table from her, and whispered something in Kian’s ear which he nodded to quickly.

Tam straightened and both looked toward her silently.

Scarlett startled. “Aye?”

Kian stood. “I must away, Scarlett. Tam can escort ye back. Or… wherever ye plan to go now that the bairn is bein’ watched.”

Tam gave a polite nod. “Library’s been lit. If m’lady prefers to read.”

Scarlett stared at both of them.

And still, she hadn’t asked him a single thing about himself. She wouldn’t even be able to guess which his favorite room in the keep might have been. The hem of her skirts was twisted into an impossible spiral, and her knuckles whitened around it in an almost painfully tight grip.

Still Kian didn’t move, but something about his expression had shifted.

He was more guarded than before. Which only served to confuse Scarlett.

They were just having a pleasant dinner, and though she realized he knew more about her than she knew about him, it was still pleasant…

but now it was as if she was a stranger again.

Scarlett shook her head slowly. “No. Thank ye, Tam. I’ll go back to me chambers.”

Tam offered his arm, but Scarlett stepped past it.

Kian didn’t speak.

She didn’t look at him as she passed.

But the sting of her own selfishness throbbed in her chest like a bruise pressed too hard.

As she walked through the halls, the wine warm in her belly and her thoughts colder than she wanted to admit, Scarlett pressed a hand to her ribs.

Am I cross with him still? Is that why I refuse to learn more about him? But the kiss…

In the quiet of her chamber, she sat at the window, staring out into the dark.

And for the first time in days, Elise’s absence didn’t fill her with peace.

It filled her with questions.

About what kind of wife she was.

And what kind of woman she might become if she couldn’t learn to ask, and listen, and let go of fear and pride.

What kind of mother she might be in the future…

Tam leaned an elbow against the back of the chair next to him.

Kian looked up from the drink in his chalice that he’d been studying after Scarlett had left the dining hall. “Well? Tell me there’s news worth yer noise.”

Tam leaned in, already shaking his head like a man delivering the worst tidings. “There’s always news, m’laird. It’s the worth of it that’s questionable.”

Kian groaned and pressed himself to standing. “Let’s hear it.”

Tam clasped his hands behind his back, and the two men started toward the study. “First matter is old Mrs. Cuthbert’s geese have gone missin’ again. She swears it’s the McGivern lads, but they say it was the wind.”

Kian stared. “The wind?”

“Aye. Claims a gust carried them over the loch.”

Kian pinched the bridge of his nose. “And?”

“And they’re offerin’ to return any goose that lands in their yard… for a small handling fee.”

“Bloody opportunists.” Kian exhaled through his teeth. “Tell Mrs. Cuthbert if she catches them at it again, she has me leave to set her rake where the sun doesnae shine. I dinnae miss these clan matters in the slightest when I was away.”

Tam let himself chuckle deeply in chest before continuing. “Second matter is old MacTavish wants to build a second privy. Says the first one’s haunted.”

Kian blinked. “Haunted?”

“By an ole woman he apparently wronged last winter. A spirit, he says.”

Kian sat back in his chair. “Did he provide any proof?”

“Nay, but he looked quite afeared for himself.”

Kian waved a hand. “Fine. I’m guessing it’s in addition to that old garden, then? Crossin’ over into Byrd’s property?”

“Precisely.”

“Tell him to build it if he pays for it himself. I’ll approve it, and Byrd can deal with it, but I’ll nae fund superstition.”

Tam gave a sharp nod, clearly enjoying himself. “Third matter is from the weaver’s wife. She says her husband’s been flirtin’ with the barmaid at The Drover’s Pub, and she’s asked if the laird might ‘speak to him like a man.’”

Kian’s brows shot up. “Does she think I’ve nothin’ better to do than play nursemaid to jealous wives?”

Tam’s grin widened. “I told her as much. She asked me to pass on that she’ll be prayin’ for ye to find better manners.”

Kian muttered something in Gaelic that made Tam chuckle. “Any actual matters of worth today, or have ye just come to rot me brain?”

Tam’s expression darkened as both men entered the study. “Aye. There’s one. Had a letter from my man up North, Duncan Ross.”

Kian stepped inside the room and let the door close behind him. His response was delayed as he sauntered over to the whiskey, poured both men a glass, and handed one to Tam before sitting down on the large sofa.

“Duncan?”

“Aye, sent ‘im word to look into a lass travelling on her own who might have been with child…”

“And?” He said finally.

“He’s on his way back from the north reaches. Says he heard somethin’ about… the bairn.”

Kian’s jaw tightened. “Elise.”

Tam nodded. “Could be somethin’ that solves the, uh, problem.”

Problem .

The word lodged in Kian’s chest like a splinter. His stomach twisted, heat flaring behind his ribs.

Aye, Elise was a problem. The bairn was an uninvited responsibility, a disruption, a living reminder that me life was nay longer me own to arrange as I pleased.

But what he couldn’t reconcile was, when Tam said it aloud, it made him want to knock the man flat. It was nothin’. Just sense. Facts. And yet…

Kian forced his voice flat. “What did he say exactly ?”

“Only that he’d explain in person. Dinnae want to commit the details to paper.”

Tam leaned a hip against the desk. “Could be he’s found the maither. Could be it’s a false trail. But if it’s true —”

“We’ll ken soon enough,” Kian cut in, perhaps more sharply than necessary.

Tam studied him. “Ye seem riled.”

Kian arched a brow. “Do I?”

“Aye. Like ye’ve been sleepin’ in yer boots and someone just lit the bed on fire.” Tam’s gaze flicked to the whiskey decanter and then back. “Ye need to take the edge off.”

Kian’s eyes narrowed. “If yer implyin’—”

“Oh aye, I’m implyin’,” Tam said, with the bluntness only he could get away with. “And I’m talkin’ about the lass ye call a wife, nae the drink.”

Kian’s lips curved into something between a smirk and a warning. “Careful, Gallagher. That’s dangerous territory. I’d hate to see ye assigned to privy duty beside James.”

Tam grinned faintly. “Fair enough.”

Still, Kian walked back over to the decanter and poured two fingers of whiskey.

They drank in companionable silence for a moment.

Then Kian set his glass down. “Michaelmas Festival — ye’ve seen to the musicians?”

Tam nodded. “Aye. Pipers from Glenrothes. And I’ve warned them if they start the reels too early, Morag’ll have their heads.”

“What about the carpenters for the tables?”

“Two confirmed.”

Kian groaned. “Hire a sober one, in case Cam shows up drunk again. And tell Effie she’s barred from any cider barrels until the guests are gone.”

Tam snorted. “That might take more men than we’ve got.”

Kian scribbled a note in the margin of his planning sheet, but the words blurred.

His mind wasn’t on carpenters or pipers.

It was back in Scarlett’s chamber, her laugh soft in her throat as Elise’s tiny fingers tangled in her gown.

Back at the way she’d smirked when he’d held the bairn like she was spun sugar.

Problem? Me eye.

He forced his attention back to Tam. “Lanterns?”

“Morag’s got them. Already polished. Said she’ll hang ye from the gate herself if ye interfere.”

Kian almost smiled at that. Almost. “Then I’ll leave her to it.”

They worked through the list, Kian giving crisp orders and Tam jotting them down.

But half the time, Kian had no memory of what he’d just said.

His mind kept wandering, tracing the curve of Scarlett’s smile, the sound of Elise’s laugh, and the unsettling warmth that had lodged somewhere in his chest.