Page 16 of Married to the Scarred Highlander (Unwanted Highland Wives #4)

16

C iaran left the door ajar, knowing she would be in at any moment.

The room was beyond quiet, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Ciaran looked over at the worktable, making sure everything she needed was there, when he heard the door swing open.

He turned at the sound of the shorter, more excited steps running in his direction.

She brought Fraser?

A soft laugh escaped his lips as the red-haired boy clamored around the chair, his feet thudding against the floor, and leaped toward him. Ciaran caught him easily, lifting him with one arm as if he weighed the same as a loaf of bread before lowering him onto his lap.

“How did ye sleep, laddie?” he asked.

The child started babbling as if he understood the question.

“More than me, then? Aye?” Ciaran asked again, nodding his head before letting the child relax into his arms.

The boy let out a humph and leaned against his torso, gripping his tunic.

“Sorry,” Laura said breathlessly, stepping around the chairs. “I just havenae seen him since yesterday morning. I wanted to spend some time with him before I go down to the surgery today.”

Ciaran studied her for a long moment, then gave a slight nod. “Of course, that’s alright,” he said, his arm tightening around the boy’s back.

Laura worked in silence, carefully smoothing herbal paste and salve over the raw, red skin. She threw the old bandages into the fire and replaced them with new ones. Both sets of eyes watched her intently, tracking her every movement until she leaned back and wiped her hands on a cloth.

Her eyes swept over the room, landing on his desk, before she looked back at him.

“Would ye mind if I wrote that letter to me sister here ? I dinnae have the materials in me rooms yet, and I used what was in the surgery for the lists that I gave to Henry.”

Ciaran’s eyes tightened slightly, but he gave a tight nod. “Aye, sure. Ye can use the desk.”

Before she rose, his gaze landed on her mouth. Her perfect lips fell open slightly as she licked them and leaned closer to him. He watched her cautiously, gripping the boy more tightly as her focus shifted from him to the boy on his lap.

“Would ye like to help Ma write a letter?”

The boy perked up instantly, clapping his tiny hands together in excitement. “Ma!”

Laura grinned, pulling him out of Ciaran’s arms before she stood. She set him on the desk moments later. His chubby fingers trailed across a blank piece of parchment while she twirled the quill in her fingers, the feathered tip tickling his nose.

“Here,” she whispered, pointing to the inkpot. “We’ll start by grabbin’ this and dip—dip—dip…”

Ciaran watched them intently as Laura continued to give Fraser quiet instructions and the boy followed easily. Her voice was soft, as it had been when she was consoling the boy the day before. The love and care in her voice wrapped around him like a warm blanket.

A knock at the door pulled him from the quiet moment.

“Enter,” he said loudly.

He watched as Kenna, the nursemaid, stepped inside and gave a small, apologetic smile.

“Forgive me, Laura, but me bairns have been beggin’ for Fraser to come up to the Bairns’ Keep and play with ’em.”

Fraser squealed in delight. “Keep ‘enna. Keep! Keep!” he said quickly, his little limbs flailing to reach the woman.

Ciaran watched Laura set the boy down and let him run toward the nursemaid, his excitement plain… and infectious.

As the boy reached the nursemaid, Ciaran heard Laura mutter, “Already forgettin’ about his maither.”

The sentiment tugged at his lips as he nodded at Kenna with approval.

He felt a foreign warmth bloom in his chest as he tracked the growing distance between the boy and Kenna, who were leaving the study, and Laura, who swiped at her face while writing her letter.

The room shrank as he slowly realized they were alone, again.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he looked at her. She stood at the desk as if it were hers and he was the guest. The thought made him want to smile, but he held back.

“Last night,” was all that he said. His traitorous heart pounded against his ribs.

“Ye did nothin’ wrong, Ciaran. Nothin’ I didnae want to happen.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth.

“But I’ve been manipulated by men—lairds—before, and I dinnae trust them. Any of them.”

Ciaran felt his features tighten with the anger that was very quickly taking over his calm demeanor, but she merely continued writing her letter, oblivious.

“Ye asked me about Fraser’s faither,” she said as she set the quill down and folded the paper, before expertly pressing a wax seal onto the page. His seal.

“Aye?”

“Laird Orkney.”

Ciaran was stunned into silence. He had known of Clan Orkney, of course, but he had never heard stories of the Laird.

She picked up the quill and traced the lines on her face with the feathered tip. “His parting gift to me after he tossed me away for a new distraction. The funny thing is, that woman is now me sister-in-law.”

His hair stood on end.

What?

“Dinnae fash, she doesnae even ken what happened. Her husband—me braither—kens some of it, so perhaps he shared something with her. Though none of them kens about Fraser. None of them kens about the scar either.”

She gave a humorless laugh, and then the silence took over the room with deathly malice.

Ciaran spoke, his voice dangerously menacing. “What happened to him?”

“Adam killed him.”

Silence.

“I regret that it wasnae me.”

Laura stilled, blinking at him before taking on a completely new tone as she twisted in the chair to fully face him.

“Ye’re regrettin’ that ye didnae get to kill a man for me, Laird MacAitken?”

The muscles in his neck strained to keep his control in check.

“Aye, and I’ll have to thank yer braither, should I ever meet him.”

“Nae sure when that will be. Perhaps soon, though,” she said, her fingers grazing the letter.

“Ye wrote to yer sister, tellin’ her that ye are here. Why?”

“Because this is the first time in a very very long time that I’ve felt… safe.”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and blood surged into the crevices of his body that he had only just tamed last night. A light flickered in her eyes, as if she was beckoning him to approach her. Teasing him with her eyes. Begging him without using any words.

This woman was mischievous. Bold…alive. And he wanted to taste her again. Needed to?—

A rap at the large wooden door sliced through the tension in the room like a butter knife.

Henry stepped in, his expression grim. “Caerbraoch and Inverwick’s leaders are here to speak with ye.”

“Christ.” Ciaran turned, looking out the window at the grey sky. “Now?”

“It’s urgent, Me Laird,” was all Henry said.

Ciaran ran his hand through his hair once more. His eyes landed on Laura, and a flash of desire passed between them.

I need to get out of here before I take her on that very desk… and let Henry watch.

Ciaran stood wordlessly, his gaze sharpening as it met his man-at-arms’ again. Both men nodded, and he strode out of the room.

The two men fell into step with one another easily. The sound of their booted steps echoed off the stone floor and walls.

“What is it?” Ciaran asked, feeling the man’s hesitation.

“Ye shouldnae be entertainin’ a healer as ye have been. She isnae even from our clan.”

Ciaran remained unchanged in his features, his tone, and his step. He felt a fire building inside him.

“What I do is none of yer business, Henry.”

Henry huffed. “I just thought ye would claim her and be done wit’ her. But this ?”

Ciaran barely reined in his anger at the Henry’s response, but the two men kept pace with each other as they headed to the main staircase.

Henry spoke again, clearly uncomfortable with the silence. “She’s already been through a lot.”

“ Ye brought her to me ,” Ciaran said. “I ne’er asked ye to.”

“To help ye, nae to—nae to condemn her to…” Henry trailed off, and the unspoken words hung between them, plain as the nose on his face.

… live with a monster.

Ciaran saw red. “Leave. I dinnae need ye in this meeting,” he said through gritted teeth before he turned and entered the receiving rooms alone.