Page 41 of A Highland Bride Disciplined (Scottish Daddies #2)

Kian tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before he left her with one last kiss. It was soft against her brow.

His boots struck the flagstones with that steady rhythm that always seemed to anchor the keep itself. And then he was gone, the latch clicking quietly behind him, as if he hadn’t just torn her world apart.

Scarlett stood frozen, lips still tingling from his touch, heart howling inside her ribs. She turned, slow as if moving through water, and stared at the supper tray between them — cold bread, half-chewed meat, crumbs scattered like the wreck of something once whole.

Her throat burned.

She started pacing, skirts whispering across the stone floor.

One step, then another, her mind looping.

He kissed her like he meant it. Kissed her like he wanted to build a life with her.

And then in the same breath promised her children only as…

compensation. A transaction. For Elise. For a marriage built on duty.

Not for love.

It had never been love… Nor would it ever…

Her hands trembled, fists clenching at her sides. She pressed one to her mouth, biting down against the sob clawing free. “Fool,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “God’s own fool, Scarlett Dunlop — I mean… Scarlett Murray…”

The lump in her throat bulged painfully at her blunder.

And back and forth she walked, as if motion alone could outrun the jagged ache inside her chest. But it chased her.

It grew sharper with the echo of his laughter, every memory of Elise’s little hand curling tight around her finger, every laugh they shared, every soft sigh against her breast, the night they shared.

The thought of letting Elise go, even thought it was what she wanted, nearly buckled her knees.

She stopped in the middle of the room, spine rigid, eyes blazing with tears she refused to shed. Her jaw clenched so tightly it ached. For a moment she thought she might hold it together. She thought she might be strong enough.

And then the wrench in her gut twisted cruelly, and the dam inside her broke.

She gripped the side of the lounge sofa as a sob ripped through her chest, raw and ugly. She clutched her skirts, bent forward until her hair fell fully into her face. The grief poured out of her in waves, unstoppable, shuddering her whole body.

Her cries hollowed into softer, broken sounds, like a child trying to swallow pain. She pressed her sleeve to her mouth, muffling herself until the sobs turned to hiccupping breaths. Her body sagged, emptied.

At last, she dragged herself to straighten, swaying as stood taller. Her eyes burned, lashes heavy with wet. She scrubbed her cheeks with shaking hands, willed her lungs to steady. Quiet. Quiet now.

Scarlett slipped from the library. The corridors dim and cold as she climbed the steps to her chamber. Each step felt heavier than the last. When she finally reached her bed, she collapsed across it fully clothed, curling onto her side.

She had just lost both her child and her husband. The chilling truth of it pierced her very soul, and she pulled the blanket over her shoulder, tucked her knees to her chest, and let the last of her tears bleed into the pillow.

Sleep took her at last, but not gently. She drifted off still aching, still broken, still clutching at the ghost of what she wanted and knew she’d never truly have.

Kian closed the library door behind him, letting the echo fade through the corridor. For the first time in days his chest felt unburdened.

Scarlett had listened where he had not. She had understood when he had not. At least, that was how it seemed.

She’d spoken the words he’d been waiting to hear all along, a marriage of convenience. Guess that clears everything up. Before, he didn’t know how he felt about it all, and now, he only knew that he trusted her.

If that’s what she needs — I’ll give it to her.

She made sense. Scarlett spoke sensibly and honestly.

And when she said that Elise must be given back, and the sharp, restless tension that had gripped his every waking thought loosened enough for him to breathe again.

It shouldn’t have, considering he had just started a war, perhaps, to not give her up, but it was what he had asked for from the moment she was dropped on his doorstep.

Then why does the thought of letting Roderick claim Elise, bring me relief now? Is it that or is it Scarlett?

He climbed the stairwell to his chamber with a stride less rigid than usual. The castle was quiet, the kind of quiet that came only after endless nights of preparation, when men finally dropped into exhausted sleep and even Morag’s keys lay silent on their hooks.

When he pushed open his chamber door, the faint glow of the hearth greeted him, throwing gentle light across the wide bed.

His coat hit the chair. His boots followed, thudding against the floor.

He rubbed the back of his neck, stretched, and for once, didn’t feel that familiar iron weight pressing between his shoulders.

Scarlett would stand by him. And he would stand by her. An alliance.

That thought alone carried him to the edge of the mattress. He sat down, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the fire. That’s what truly brought him relief. All of the confusion from before, and the mixed signals… all of it… cleared up, finally.

And with Elise, he had feared that fickle her heart would blind her to reason where the bairn was concerned, and she had called him out for doing just that.

A chuckle escaped his throat, and he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.

I’m blind to reason where Elise is concerned.

She dinnae say it outright, but she’s right.

Scarlett showed him the light, that evening. That holding on would cost them everything.

Perhaps Roderick does love Elise… I would see to it that everyone would die where they stood if they stood between me and mine.

Relief spread through him like the warmth of whiskey. A quiet, grateful relief that let him unlace his shirt, lie back, and stretch out across the bed with a groan.

For the first time in months, he thought of something other than defense or duty.

He thought of the woman who’d kissed him as if she couldn’t bear not to.

Scarlett. Fierce, unyielding, sharp-tongued Scarlett.

He replayed her laugh from supper, her face lit by firelight, the press of her mouth under his. That kiss had nearly undone him.

God help him, she had undone him.

His eyes slipped closed. Sleep threatened, heavy and welcome. But his mind, traitorous as always, spun one last circle around the babe. Elise.

He saw her small fist clutching Scarlett’s finger, her golden lashes pressed against her cheek as she slept in the cradle. He heard the bubbling laugh she’d given him in the nursery, her tiny body wriggling against his chest when he’d dared to comfort her.

She wasn’t his. He reminded himself of that. She’d never been his. She belonged to the blood that made her, to the father demanding her back. That was the truth. That was the order of things.

And yet… Kian shifted, arm thrown across his eyes. Why, then, does the thought of handing her over still sit like a stone in me gut just now?

Scarlett’s whisper sounded in his head, Do ye think I cannae raise her? Am I nae good enough? Just a stand-in maither?

It gnawed at his newfound certainty because Elise was no longer just an abandoned child. She had become part of this keep, of Scarlett, of him.

He gritted his teeth. This was what came of letting Scarlett close, of letting her warmth tangle with his resolve. She made him hesitate. She made him wonder if surrendering the babe was strength, or cowardice dressed as duty.

The fire popped, spitting sparks against the grate. His eyes fluttered open, then closed again. Sleep pulled harder now, dragging him toward rest he desperately needed.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow he would settle it. He would speak to Tam. He would finalize what must be done. Elise would be given to her blood, just as Scarlett wishes, and just as what’s right, and Crawford would be spared the shadow of war. That was the plan. That had to be the plan.

And still… still, the faintest image clung to him as he drifted under. Scarlett in the nursery, Elise in her arms, both of them looking at him as though he were meant to stand with them, not against.

Kian let sleep take him, grateful for the peace of it, yet with a single, stubborn thought lingering in the quiet dark.

Even though I’ve agreed… perhaps Elise was meant to stay.