Page 35 of A Highland Bride Disciplined (Scottish Daddies #2)

T he great hall roared with voices. Laughter from Campbell’s booming tone, the shriller chatter of Skylar with one of the younger lairds’ wives, and the endless shuffle of servants carrying trenchers and pitchers up and down the length of the table.

Scarlett tried to keep her smile fixed as she sat near the head, Elise cradled drowsily in her arms, but she felt as worn as the rushes beneath her shoes.

Two days of constant company. Two days of feasts…

of hounds baying in the yard, men clamoring for sport and women gossiping at every turn.

Crawford Keep had not seen this much bustle since her wedding night, and though she ought to be proud of how smoothly it all ran.

Morag and Effie and all of the others darting about with practiced efficiency, the servants never once dropping a dish.

She was exhausted.

Elise shifted against her chest, small fists pressing into her gown.

Her health had improved since her light cough the day before, but she still tired quickly.

Scarlett brushed her lips to the baby’s head, guilt tugging at her heart.

If she was weary, what must Elise feel, surrounded by so much noise and light?

She glanced down the table. Kian was speaking low with Campbell, his dark head bent, one large hand wrapped loosely around a tankard. The sight of him being so calm, assured, and seemingly untouched by the chaos sent a stab of envy through her.

Did he not feel the same bone-deep fatigue? Did all lairds thrive beneath this constant demand?

A hand brushed her arm. “Lady Crawford, another trencher?” a maid whispered.

Scarlett startled. “Nay, thank ye. I’ve had enough.”

The girl curtsied and slipped away. Scarlett exhaled. She was glad when Elise’s eyes fluttered shut, granting her at least the illusion of peace.

That illusion shattered a moment later when her mother’s voice carried across the table.

“Scarlett, dear, ye’re pale. Are ye sure the bairn ought to be up so late?”

Dozens of eyes turned toward her. Scarlett swallowed the sharp retort on her tongue. Astrid would never change, not even in front of half the Highlands.

Before she could answer, another voice cut through, unmistakably Kian’s. “She’s fine, Astrid.”

Scarlett’s eyes snapped to him. His gaze met hers briefly, unreadable, before he turned back to Campbell as though nothing had been said. But something in her chest loosened at his simple defense.

The night wore on. When finally the company dispersed to their chambers, Scarlett carried Elise back to the nursery, her limbs heavy as stone.

Effie bustled in behind her, chattering about how grand the feast had been.

Scarlett smiled faintly, but her eyes strayed to the baby sleeping in the cradle.

Elise slept soundly, lips parted, her little chest rising and falling with a steadiness Scarlett envied.

She brushed a finger down Elise’s cheek. “Rest, me heart,” she whispered.

“Scarlett.”

The deep rumble of her husband’s voice made her turn. Kian stood in the doorway, shoulders filling the frame, his expression unreadable.

“What is it?” she asked softly, instinctively lowering her voice as though Elise might wake.

He stepped in, closing the door behind him. For a heartbeat he only watched her, then his eyes shifted to the cradle. “Effie,” he said quietly, “will ye sit with the babe?”

Effie blinked, surprised. “Aye, m’laird.” She bobbed a quick curtsy, though her eyes flicked curiously between them. Scarlett opened her mouth to protest, but Kian moved closer.

“I’ll nae keep her long,” he promised, voice pitched low.

Scarlett hesitated, then pressed a kiss to Elise’s temple before rising. Effie slipped onto the chair by the cradle, already humming some cheerful tune.

Kian’s hand brushed Scarlett’s elbow, guiding her out into the corridor. His touch was gentle, but it sent a ripple of awareness through her tired body. “Kian,” she murmured, half-annoyed, half-curious. “Where are ye takin’ me?”

“Ye’ll see.”

She followed as he led her through the dim halls, out into the cool night air. The sky overhead shimmered with stars, the moon bright enough to silver the stones of the keep. Scarlett tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders, suddenly conscious of the quiet after so many hours of noise.

They walked toward the stables. A pair of horses stood ready, reins looped loosely around the posts. Scarlett stopped short. “Ye mean for us to ride? At this hour?”

His mouth curved not in a smile, not exactly, but something close. “At this hour. It will be quick.”

Scarlett’s brow furrowed. Her body ached with weariness, but curiosity pricked through it. “And Elise?”

“I spoke wi’ Effie before supper. She’s confident she can manage a few hours. Ye’ve nae left Elise’s side since the festival. She’ll be safe.”

Scarlett’s throat tightened. The thought of leaving Elise, even for a moment, pulled against every instinct. But Kian’s gaze was steady, unwavering.

“Trust me,” he said quietly.

She hated how easily those two words unraveled her. For months she had led this clan, doubted every man’s loyalty, and fought for every scrap of respect. And yet, when Kian said trust me , something inside her wanted to yield.

Scarlett drew herself tall. “Very well,” she said, though her voice wavered more than she liked.

“Can we just take one?” she asked, her voice was more pleading in tone than she anticipated, but the exhaustion was truly starting to take over.

Kian smiled and mounted first before offering her a hand. She swung up behind him, skirts rustling against the saddle, her palms flattening against his broad back. The warmth of him seeped through wool and leather, steady and solid.

They rode in silence, hooves thudding softly against the earth.

The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and distant heather.

Scarlett found herself relaxing despite the tight knot of worry in her chest. Elise would be fine.

Effie was capable. For once, Scarlett allowed herself to lean into the moment, into the man guiding her away from the noise and duty of the keep.

After some time, she whispered against his shoulder, “Where are ye takin’ me, Kian Murray?”

He glanced back, and in the moonlight his eyes glinted with something she couldn’t name. “Somewhere that’s only ours.”

Scarlett’s heart stumbled in her chest. Only ours?

She tightened her hold around his waist, curiosity winning over hesitation.

The sunset ride ended at a quiet loch nestled between two low ridges, the waters black as ink save for the pale shimmer of stars scattered across its surface.

Scarlett drew in a breath, the sharp scent of pine mixing with the faint sweetness of late heather blooming near the banks.

It was breathtaking that she almost forgot the weight pressing against her chest.

Almost.

Kian swung down easily, boots crunching against the damp earth.

He held up his hands to steady her as she dismounted.

Scarlett hesitated, her palms still tingling from where they had clutched the breadth of his waist. When she slipped down, her skirts brushed his thigh, and for a heartbeat she thought he might not release her.

But then he stepped back, gesturing toward a patch of grass where a blanket was already spread, a basket set neatly atop it.

She blinked. “Ye prepared this?”

“Aye.” His voice was quiet, unreadable. “I thought ye might need somethin’ that was just for us.”

Scarlett’s heart gave a traitorous lurch. She forced a smirk, trying to cover it. “And here I thought ye had nay talent for surprises.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. It was more a shadow of a smile than the thing itself, and he crouched to open the basket.

Inside lay sweet bannocks wrapped in cloth, a wheel of soft cheese, apples polished near to shining, and a flask of whisky that caught the moonlight on its rim.

He poured her a measure first, then one for himself.

They sat side by side, the loch rippling faintly with the night breeze. Scarlett let the whisky burn her throat, though her eyes strayed again and again to the man beside her.

It was contrary, she knew, to let herself soften. But the effort he’d made, the thought behind it. She couldn’t deny that it settled something in her, at least for the moment.

“Effie will manage Elise?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

“She’ll manage,” Kian said, firm. “And if she doesnae, Morag’s shadow looms large enough to keep her on task.”

Scarlett huffed a laugh, imagining the indomitable housekeeper glaring over Effie’s shoulder. Still, her fingers curled into the wool of her skirts. She hated how her body longed for the baby, even when Elise wasn’t in her arms.

Kian poured another measure. His gaze fixed on the loch. For a long time, silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortable, not entirely, but charged with something Scarlett couldn’t name.

Then he spoke. “I brought ye here because I needed to say somethin’.”

Scarlett stiffened, setting her cup aside. “What sort of somethin’?”

“About me. About… us.”

Her stomach twisted. She thought of Nieve’s letter, of Elise’s soft weight in her arms, of all the things left unsaid between them. “Go on, then.”

Kian didn’t look at her at first. His eyes stayed on the loch, his jaw working as though he were chewing through iron.

“When I was a lad, after my father drank away near everything we had, I swore I’d never let another man’s weakness destroy this clan.

I rebuilt Crawford with my own hands, with Tam at my side.

I learned to plan, to command, to control every breath, every grain, every sword arm. ”

Scarlett said nothing. She only listened, her chest tight.