Page 22 of A Highland Bride Disciplined (Scottish Daddies #2)

T he fire in the study was down to embers, hissing now and then as sap spat from the logs.

The air smelled faintly of smoke and parchment ink.

Kian sat behind the wide oak desk. His elbows planted on either side of a single sheet of parchment that was more densely packed with notes than anything he’d written himself.

Scarlett’s hand was unmistakable. It was tidy with a few showy curls where her wrist had flicked at the end of a word, fast and smug. Just as her letters had been.

He read through the list again, jaw tight.

Three trestle tables are cracked clean through near the south end of the village square is unfit for holding barrels.

The blue awning at the butcher’s stall hangs low enough to knock a bonnet clean off. Raise it or replace it.

Bread cart too far from ale vendors. Shift position to ease foot traffic and prevent spillage.

He paused halfway down the parchment, scowling at a smudge.

Three stalls need — nay, wait — “ Three stalls need new canvas,” he muttered out loud, wiped at the tea smudge, then read on.

Scarlett was irritatingly thorough. He could almost hear her voice rattling these off, smug as a cat with a catch.

Tam was leaning against the wall near the hearth, arms crossed, watching him read. “That all from Scarlett?”

Kian didn’t look up. “Aye.”

“She’s got a good eye,” Tam said, but there was a smile tucked into his beard that Kian decided not to address.

“She’s got opinions,” Kian muttered.

Tam shrugged. “Mayhap that’s why the villagers like her,” Tam said, rubbing the back of his neck like he’d immediately just realized he’d said too much.

Kian ignored that and scanned further down. “Says here the piper we hired for the festival was three cups in before midday yesterday. Can we not find a sober man who can play a chanter?”

Tam chuckled. “If ye want sober, ye’ll get one that plays like a strangled goose. If ye want decent music, ye’ll get one that’s already got a good drink in him.”

“Christ.” Kian pushed the parchment away and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “All right — make sure the man’s watched. If he can stand and play, he stays. If he falls over, I’ll toss him in the horse trough myself.”

“Aye.” Tam shifted his stance, readying the next item.

They went point by point. Guard placement. Kian insisted on heavy coverage at both the keep gates and in the village square. “If any fool wants to cause trouble tomorrow, they’ll see steel before they see opportunity,” he said.

Guest arrivals. Tam mentioned a MacKinnon cousin likely to start a brawl if given too much drink. “Keep him near the piper,” Kian said dryly, “and let them drown each other out.”

Food stalls. Kian tapped the parchment. “She’s right about the bread cart. Move it nearer the ale, but not so close that every drunk with crumbs on his shirt ends up in a fistfight.”

Tam made a note of it, still grinning like he found Kian’s irritation amusing.

The list went on to vendors, contests, livestock pens. It was tedious work, but necessary, and Kian forced himself to take every one of her observations seriously. For all her habit of overstepping, she’d kept the clan’s affairs steady in his absence. And, damn her, she’d done it well.

When they finally reached the end of the parchment, Tam asked, “Anything else ye want to change before tomorrow?”

Kian sat back, the chair creaking under his weight.

He glanced once more at Scarlett’s script, then folded the sheet in half with a decisive snap.

“We’ll keep to the plan,” he said. “Nay last-minute nonsense. If it’s nae already fixed or moved, it stays where it is.

The less chaos before tomorrow, the better. ”

Tam nodded and moved toward the desk to take the parchment, but Kian kept it in his hand. “I’ll tell her meself,” he said, tucking it under a ledger.

“Suit yerself,” Tam said, and started toward the door.

Kian leaned back again, gaze drifting to the fire.

He’d been doing this long enough to know that festivals weren’t about joy. They were about control. Keeping crowds from boiling over, keeping people fed and entertained enough to forget old grudges for one day. And this one, with half the Highlands coming through his gates, would be no different.

Kian tapped the folded parchment against his knee. He’d speak to Scarlett about it before the festival. To make sure they’re on the same page.

The latch on the door clicked, and Kian looked up, expecting Tam to have returned with another question.

It wasn’t just Tam.

Speakin’ of the devil herself…

Scarlett stepped into the study with Tam right behind her, as if he was being dragged there.

There was a faint chill of the night clinging to her cheeks, her hair slightly wind-tossed under the weight of her cloak.

Behind her, the corridor lamp caught the edge of her smile, a smile that was more business than warmth.

“Ye’re still here,” she said, eyes flicking from Kian to Tam. “Good. I was hoping I wouldnae have to track ye down.”

Tam slid past her with a nod, “M’lady.”

Kian kept his voice neutral. “Ye’ve been out.”

Alone. He thought and rolled his eyes.

Scarlett strode further into the room, unfastening her cloak with brisk fingers.

“Aye. I took two of the guards down to the village with me. We walked the festival route again. Talked to the vendors, checked the staging, and assessed the games area.” She laid the folded cloak over the back of a chair.

“I’ve a few adjustments to propose, and the men are waiting in the courtyard for yer answers so they can ride back and relay it tonight. ”

Tam straightened but smiled knowing that Kian had just said ‘no last-minute changes’. He pulled a small scrap of parchment and a stub of charcoal from his pocket. “I’ll take notes.”

Kian’s gaze narrowed. “Ye’ve just come from the village? At this hour?”

Scarlett didn’t flinch. “It’s easier to see how the light will fall for the evening events if ye’re actually there in the evening .

The bonfire staging is too far south. The crowd will bottleneck when folk try to pass between it and the archery range.

Moving it twenty feet north will open the lane. ”

Kian leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “And what else?”

She began pacing slowly in front of the hearth, ticking points off on her fingers.

“The livestock pen needs reinforcing. There’s a gap in the fencing that the blacksmith’s pig nearly escaped through today.

Would be a disaster. The ale vendors are too close to the children’s games.

That’s an invitation for trouble. And…” She hesitated, glancing at Tam, then back at Kian.

“The musicians need a platform, nae just the flat earth. If it rains, it’ll be a mire. ”

Tam scribbled each note dutifully, that stupid smile smeared across his face.

Arse.

Kian studied her while she spoke. She was animated, her voice carrying the same firm certainty she’d used in her written list. But there was also a subtle shift in her manner tonight.

It was less the commanding tone of someone handing down orders, more so the careful measure of someone presenting a case.

“Anythin’ else?” he asked.

Her lips twitched, like she might have been about to make a quip, but she settled for, “I’ve more, aye. But those are the most pressing if ye want the festival to run without a hitch.”

“And ye’ve told the villagers ye’d speak to me?”

She met his gaze without hesitation. “Aye. Every one of them.”

“Good,” Kian said finally, the word slow, deliberate. “Then they’ll get their answers from me .”

Scarlett inclined her head. “That’s the plan.”

Tam coughed discreetly. “Do ye want me to fetch the guards in now for the reply, or…?”

Kian shook his head. “Nae yet. We’ll go through this list together first. Might as well take care of it all at once.”

Scarlett crossed to the edge of his desk and placed her hands on the polished wood, leaning forward just slightly. “Then let’s get to it.”

There was something in the way she looked at him just then that sent a spark down his spine. It was like she was daring him, but also not.

Tam’s presence kept him from answering that look the way he wanted to, so he reached for the folded parchment she’d given him yesterday instead.

“All right,” he said, flipping it open. “Ye want the bonfire moved twenty feet north. Tam, how quickly can the men do it?”

“Two hours’ work in the morning,” Tam replied without looking up from his scratch notes. “Less if the ground’s not frozen too deep.”

“Do it,” Kian said, and made a mark beside the note. “The pen for the blacksmith’s pig. Let’s get Cam involved with it before the beast ends up roasting itself before the feast.”

Scarlett’s mouth curved. “He’s a fine pig. Would be a shame to lose him to poor planning.”

Kian gave her a look, half warning, half amused. “Ale vendors?”

She leaned her hip against the desk. “Move them nearer the bread carts, aye. I ken ye already told Tam that yesterday, but now I’m telling ye it’s even more necessary.”

Tam snorted softly and kept writing.

Kian tilted his head toward her. “And the musicians’ platform?”

Scarlett straightened. “It will keep their instruments from warping if the ground’s damp. And they’ll be visible. Folk gather where they can see.”

Kian considered her for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine. Tam, have it built before noon.”

There was a strange quiet after that. Tam scratched a last note, Scarlett watched Kian with a glimmer of satisfaction, and Kian sat there, feeling the heat from the fire and the weight of her gaze both pressing at him in equal measure.

Kian set the parchment down, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “That’s everything?”

Scarlett tipped her head. “For now.”