Page 40 of A Highland Bride Disciplined (Scottish Daddies #2)

S carlett lingered in the nursery long after Elise fell asleep. The lass had one tiny fist curled against her cheek, and the faintest whistle on her lips with each breath. Scarlett bent low, brushed a kiss against that warm cheek, and let her fingers trail across the soft curls.

“Sleep, my wee fierce one,” she whispered. “Sleep while the rest o’ us lose our wits.”

She straightened, her whole body heavy, and made her way down the stairwell.

Each step echoed too loud, too final. She’d watched her sisters depart — Mabel waddling, hand on her swollen belly, Campbell fussing over her like an old hen, Connor and Ollie vowing to protect their mother like knights from a tale.

Skylar had hugged Scarlett so tightly she could still feel her ribs ache.

And her father — even Hamish MacLennan — had begged her to leave.

But she couldn’t. Not when this battle was about Elise.

She found Kian where she knew he’d be. He was pacing the length of the hall, barking instructions at a servant boy with a tray of bolts for the armory. His voice was clipped, his posture iron. He didn’t see her at first. He rarely did anymore, not with his head buried in preparations.

It had been days since Roderick left them in the study. Sleepless nights and terribly long days.

When he finally turned, she stepped into his path. “Kian.”

He stopped, one brow lifting in mild surprise. “Scarlett.”

“Walk wi’ me.” She gestured to the side door that led to the small library.

He hesitated only a moment before following her in.

The library was dim, dust motes drifting in slanting beams of light, shelves groaning with old Crawford tomes. She shut the door behind them. The silence pressed close.

“Ye look tired,” she said, keeping her voice softer than she’d meant to.

He let out a rough chuckle. “Do I? Thought I’d hidden it wi’ my charm.”

She arched a brow. “Charm? I must’ve blinked.”

For a moment, just a moment, it was easy between them. Like no battle loomed. Like no babe’s future hung on the balance.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Have ye eaten today, husband?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Nay, just a few crackers and cheese.”

Scarlett crossed the room, and pulled the door open. A small figure loomed in the shadows. “Did Cookie send ye up as I had asked him to do earlier today? Or are ye here for the laird?”

“Cookie sent me, m’lady.”

“Ah… good. We’ll need a supper tray for two here. Please tell Cookie to bring it promptly.”

“Aye, m’lady,” the lad said and took off in a dead sprint back down the stairs to the kitchens before Scarlett could even close the door again.

“I’m really fine, Scarlett,” Kian said, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“It’s a wife’s duty to care for her husband, Kian,” she said, the irony plain between them. “Ye’ll do well to let me.”

Not a few silent minutes later, as Scarlett continued to feed the hearth, there was a soft knock on the door.

Kian stood, but Scarlett waved him away. “I’ve got it.”

Cookie left for them two plates of turkey legs, a warmed loaf of brown oat bread, a wedge of soft cheese, and pot of honeyed tea.

The large tray clinked softly as Scarlett maneuvered it into the room and set it between them on the low table.

Kian leaned forward in his chair, eyeing it with suspicion. “Is this yer way o’ softenin’ me? Feedin’ me into submission?”

Scarlett smirked and sat down next to him. “If bread and cheese can fell the mighty Laird Crawford, then perhaps I’ve been usin’ the wrong weapons all along.”

He tore a piece of bread, dipped it in honey, and handed it to her. “Eat first, jest later.”

She accepted, brushing his fingers as she took it. “Bossy.”

“Hungry,” he corrected, tearing his own piece.

They ate in quiet for a moment before she broke it. “Ye look better when ye’re nae scowlin’ at ledgers or barkin’ orders at yer men.”

He raised a brow. “And ye look better when ye’re nae frettin’ by yerself in the shadows.”

“I’ve nae ever been by meself these past few days, husband.”

“Save for Morag and Effie?”

“Aye, and Elise and Cookie… and Tam.”

“Good,” he said quickly, shoving another piece of bread into his mouth. “It’s yer keep — well… yers and Morag’s, of course.”

Her lips pressed together, but then curved. “That’s kind of ye to say, in yer brutish way.”

“Aye. I’m kent for me kindness, lass, across the Highlands,” he deadpanned waving dramatically with his turkey leg before gnashing at it ravenously.

Scarlett laughed then, a true laugh, and the sound the tension that surrounded them.

He studied her a long moment, her face warmed by firelight, and her shoulders eased.

“Ye’re tired,” he said.

“So are ye.”

They held each other’s gaze. She reached across, tearing a corner of bread and pressing it into his hand. “Then we’ll be tired together. At least tonight.”

Kian let the silence linger, softer this time, and nodded. “Together.”

Scarlett sat back, her belly pleasantly warm for the first time in days, and let her eyes roam over her husband. He had sauce on the corner of his mouth. She snorted. “Ye look ferocious enough to scare an army, but there’s turkey grease runnin’ down yer chin.”

Kian wiped at it with the back of his hand and only smeared it further. “Satisfied now?”

“Nay. Ye missed it entirely. Saints preserve us, how do ye manage to dress yerself?”

He leaned forward, daring her. “Come wipe it for me, then.”

She narrowed her eyes, but her hand betrayed her, reaching with the corner of her sleeve to brush his jaw. His beard prickled her knuckles, and when she pulled away, his eyes lingered on her like she’d given him more than a scrap of linen.

“Better?” he asked, his voice was low and made her core tighten fiercely.

“Much,” she managed to say, though she felt her cheeks start to warm, so she busied herself cutting the cheese into little wedges. “I’ve half a mind to send Morag after ye in the mornin’. She’d keep ye spotless, though she might drown ye in starch.”

“She’d try,” Kian muttered. “But I’d win.”

Scarlett chuckled, shaking her head. “Ye’d nae win against Morag. Tam doesnae even try, and he’s half a warlord when he’s in his cups.”

That earned the faintest grin from him, quick as lightning, gone before she could grab hold of it. But she saw it. And her heart thumped at the proof that she could still drag a smile out of him.

They ate slower after that. A sip of honeyed tea, a bite of oat bread.

She teased him for tearing hunks like a barbarian, and he teased her for fussing over crumbs on her gown before the meal was over.

Their laughter softened the edges of the night, and for once, the war outside their walls seemed far away.

When the food was gone, Scarlett folded her hands in her lap and turned to him, serious again. “Kian… I need ye to listen. Truly listen. Just this once.”

He leaned back, folding his arms, though his eyes stayed sharp on her. “Go on, then.”

“I daenae wish to give Elise away.” The words tumbled out, bare and raw. “Every hour, I’ve thought on it. Every nap she’s taken in my arms, every time she’s gripped my finger like it’s her only tether. I daenae want to let her go.”

His brows rose, but he said nothing. She pushed on.

“But… I feel like we must. Roderick wants her badly enough to go to war. That can only mean he —”

“— It’s probably neither love nor duty,” Kian cut in, his voice hard.

Scarlett swallowed. “Maybe so. But if keepin’ her here costs us blood, costs this clan after all I’ve… after all we’ve done —”

He let out a rough, almost-laugh. “And ye cannae stop remindin’ me.”

Despite herself, her lips twitched. For a moment, they weren’t enemies, just a man and woman trying to puzzle out an impossible life together.

Her voice wavered, “I never wanted Elise growin’ up wi’ war over her head. She deserves peace. A family. If giving her to Roderick spares her that…”

The silence thickened. She could feel the tremor in her chest, in her hands. To cover it, she whispered, “Perhaps later we’ll have children of our own. Maybe that’ll soften the loss.”

Even as she said it, bile rose in her throat. Elise wasn’t replaceable. Not by any other bairn. The thought was sacrilege, but she forced it out because part of her wanted to soothe him and wanted to find footing where there was none.

Kian’s eyes darkened. His hand lifted, fingers brushing her jaw. Scarlett froze, then leaned into his touch like her body moved without her mind’s authority. He tilted her chin, his thumb grazing her lower lip, and kissed her.

This kiss was different. Not the angry, desperate clashing of before. It was slow at first, sweet, like he meant to drink her in one mouthful at a time. Then deeper, hungrier.

His hand slid to her nape, pulling her flush against him. She melted into it, her fingers gripping his shirtfront, her body betraying her heart. Heat unfurled low in her belly.

Her husband’s kiss. Her husband’s arms. For one fragile moment, she believed they might yet choose each other.

Then he tore back, breath ragged.

“When Roderick comes,” he said, voice iron, “we’ll give him the bairn.”

Her heart split wide open.

She barely managed a nod. “Aye.” The word rasped like broken glass in her throat, but it was what she wanted.

He took her hand, his tone soft but cruel as a blade pressed to skin. “And if it’s children ye want, I’ll give ye that. And this time, I’ll stay out o’ your way.”

Scarlett’s chest constricted. Elise. Her husband. Both slipping away in the same breath.

He kissed her again, sealing the wound he’d just carved. She let him, though her heart screamed. Because she loved him, and because he would never love her the same. And it was all she could do not to sob into his mouth.

“We should go to bed, while we still can,” he offered, and she offered him a tight smile in return before nodding with false emphasis.

“Ye go on ahead. I’m going to just stop by the nursery on me way up.”