Page 18 of A Highland Bride Disciplined (Scottish Daddies #2)

A lone. Again.

Kian’s knuckles whitened as he stared down the empty chair across from him.

He had waited nearly a full half hour. The servants, well-trained enough to say nothing, had begun clearing away the soup course without a single glance in his direction.

He was Laird of this keep, for God’s sake. The least his wife could do was join him for a meal.

Irritation simmered low and steady. Still, he picked up his knife and ate the roast, every bite chewed with the deliberate patience of a man refusing to be baited.

He finished the greens. Took a long swallow of whiskey.

If she thought she could rattle him by ignoring the dinner table, she’d find out how stubborn a Murray could be.

When the plates were cleared, he told the kitchen staff to bring him a tray. Not for himself. For her .

If Scarlett was too busy, or too stubborn, to come down, then she’d eat in her chamber. But she’d bloody well eat.

He loaded the tray himself, ignoring the startled looks from the serving girls. Bread, cheese, the better half of the roast, a small bowl of greens, a cup of broth.

“Let her try to claim I hadnae fed her… maker her choke on the lie…” he grumbled, clattering utensils on the tray, and a cloth napkin.

By the time he climbed the winding stair, the handle of the tray pressing a dent into his palm, his mood was sharp enough to cut glass. He knocked once at her chamber door.

No answer.

When he pushed it open, the firelight washed over the scene. Scarlett lay curled, one arm wrapped tight around the bundle, as if she meant to guard it even in her sleep. Elise, nestled into the crook of her arm, her tiny chest rising and falling with soft, even breaths.

Kian set the tray down on a table without a sound. He’d meant only to wake Scarlett and tell her to eat. Instead, his gaze went to the bairn.

She shouldnae be sleeping in the bed. She’d roll right off one night in her exhaustion, and take the bairn with her.

He leaned down and, with more care than he’d ever afforded anything, slid his hands under the blanket and lifted Elise.

She woke instantly.

At first, her eyes widened, blinking up at him. There was a slight twitch in her cheek next, and her little bottom lip started quivering. Then her eyes slammed shut, and her chest began to heave like a bellows. She made a perfect ‘O’ with her mouth fully agape. The soundlessness was unnerving.

Kian’s own breath snagged. What the —

Then she dragged in a desperate, rattling gulp of air. Then two. Then three. Her tiny ribcage shuddering against his forearm. He’d never seen such a small body strain so hard just to breathe. Panic flickered hot and sudden in his chest.

“All right, lass, steady on —”

His eye flitted over to Scarlett who hadn’t moved an inch, and he rolled his eyes. To think the lass could be hurt or somethin’…

The scream came then. It was shrill and piercing enough to rattle the glass in the windows. He flinched instinctively and clamped her closer, his palm cradling the back of her head as he buried her face against his tunic to muffle the noise.

She didn’t like that either. She twisted and writhed weakly against him, her cries turning ragged and furious. He tried bouncing her, the awkward, uneven sway he’d seen Scarlett do, but it was like trying to soothe a thunderstorm with a spoon.

“Shhh,” he muttered, attempting a softer approach. “Enough now. Ye’re fine.”

Nothing. And still Scarlett didn’t move at all. Is she dead? He half-joked with himself before his eyes watched her chest rise and fall. Good.

“All right, lass, I’ll nae tell ye again. Stop this nonsense,” he ordered, as if a bairn might understand or care about orders.

She screamed harder, the wail vibrating straight through his sternum. Warmth spread across his chest, but not from her body heat, but the damp seeping into his shirt. The bairn was crying so hard she’d wet his tunic with her tears.

Kian’s jaw tightened. He began patting her back while he bounced, but the levy in his patience gave way.

“That’s enough, Elise!” he hissed through his teeth, low but sharp.

The sound seemed to ignite her. She drew another gulp of air and wailed with renewed force.

Christ .

He turned toward the nursery with long, determined strides, putting the thick door and a hallway between the child and Scarlett’s sleeping form. The last thing he needed was his wife waking to see him bested by a creature the size of a sack of meal.

Inside the nursery, the fire burned low, its dim orange glow pooling against the stone. He began pacing in front of it, the weight of the child oddly grounding in his arms, even as her noise battered his ears.

Then, unbidden, a memory surfaced. His mother’s voice. A quiet lilt in the dark, the sound that had once been safety itself. He began to hum before he realized it, the half-forgotten melody vibrating in his chest.

The bairn’s cries faltered.

Kian’s lips shaped the words, low and rough, almost a growl, “Sleep now, little one, the moon’s on the rise. Yer bed’s made of heather, yer dreams’ full of skies…”

Her sobs dwindled to hiccups. Tiny, damp fingers curled into his tunic. Her eyes, still shining, locked on his face.

“Aye,” he murmured, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth. “At least ye’ve taste.”

He kept going, reciting verse after verse until the tiny lashes began to lower, her body growing heavier in his arms. The rhythm of her breathing slowed, each exhale a little sigh against his chest.

When she was limp with sleep again, he crossed to the cradle, set her down, and tucked the blanket snug around her.

For a moment, he stood there longer than necessary. The firelight caught on the fine gold of her hair, the pale pink curve of her cheek.

Look how small she is. How defenseless. How absurd that someone had just… left her. Who does that?

He told himself it didn’t matter. That her fate wasn’t his to decide. That she was only here until her parents were found.

And yet…

Kian reached down, tugging the blanket a little tighter around her. He’d seen men fall asleep in camp on nights like this and wake stiff and cold in the morning. Elise wasn’t going to wake cold. Not while she was in his keep.

He straightened, then rolling his shoulders back as he heard the softest shift coming from behind him. Alert, the peaceful silence still lingered like a weight in the air.

Scarlett.

She was leaning lightly against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smile curving her lips. Not a smirk, not one of her sharp-edged grins, but something softer.

Kian felt heat rise to his neck, and his mouth hardened into a frown before he even thought about it.

She tilted her head. “Sweet moment, that.”

He brushed past her without comment. “Ye were asleep.”

She fell into step behind him, voice lilting. “Aye, and ye were being quite sweet, husband. Holding her like —”

“I was keeping her quiet,” he cut in, striding past her and down the corridor toward his study.

Need space.

Scarlett’s tone turned teasing. “Aye, quiet by way of cuddling. I’d wager she liked it.”

He grunted, not about to give her the satisfaction of a reply.

“Ye’ve a softer touch than I thought,” she went on, relentless. “Might suit ye to hold her more often.”

I’ll show ye soft touch, lass, daenae push me.

The humor was thick in her voice as she continued teasing. “I was just merely pointing out what I saw, Kian… and heard.”

They reached the study door, and he pushed it open, stepping inside. Of course, she followed. He turned, meaning to send her on her way, but she was still smiling at him.

“I dinnae wish to wake ye,” he said finally, the words slipping out before he could decide whether they sounded foolish.

“I came up to bring ye food because ye have an impeccable way of taking care of everyone else buy yerself, and ye ken how I feel about that. Saw the bairn nearly smashed, and was forced to save her from suffocatin’ under ye. Then she wouldnae go back to sleep.”

That smile of hers shifted. Something in her eyes flickered.

Is she surprised? Good.

He stepped toward her, closing the distance until the air between them seemed suddenly thin.

Her pulse fluttered quickly at her neck.

Kian noticed.

And God help him, he liked it.

“Ye’re quick to tease,” he murmured, “but slow to thank.”

“For what?” she asked, lifting her chin, but her voice didn’t have its usual bite.

“For helping ye. Takin’ care of ye. Anythin’ ever ,” he said simply, holding her gaze.

“That’s hardly —”

“Oh, but it is ,” he interrupted, his tone deliberate, steady. “I helped keep ye alive, and ye’ve been ungrateful about it.”

Scarlett gave a little scoff, though it came out weaker than she likely intended. “Ungrateful? I’ve been —”

“Ungrateful,” he repeated, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smirk he kept tightly reined in. “Ye should be thanking me.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a faint flush creeping up her neck. “I’ve nay intention —”

“Say it,” he pressed, letting the tease into his voice while keeping his expression deadly serious. “Thank me.”

Scarlett’s lips parted, but no words came. Her eyes darted to his mouth and back. He wondered if she even realized she’d done it.

Her fluster was… interesting. She’d fought him tooth and nail over every word, every decision since he’d returned, but here he could see the fissures forming.

She stepped back half a pace, but he followed, not letting the space widen.

Kian dropped his voice lower. “It’s nae hard, lass. Two words. Then ye can go back to mocking me.”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes, trying for defiance, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her, twitching upward just enough to make his blood run hotter.

“Why would I thank ye?” she asked, but softer now, the edge blunted.

He leaned in just slightly, watching her pupils widen. “Because I’ve been feedin’ ye when ye cannae be bothered to feed yerself, and I kept the bairn from wakin’ the whole keep.”