Page 116 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
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. Heheard 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. Elisewould 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.
24
The parchment lay heavy in Kian’s hand, though it weighed less than a breath. He’d read and reread the words he’d scrawled, sealing his decision in ink before his resolve could waver.
The rider before him shifted in the dim courtyard, a lad barely old enough to grow a beard. His pony stamped and snorted in the dawn chill, as though it too sensed the unease of the errand.
“Ye’ll ride swift,” Kian ordered, folding the parchment and pressing his seal deep into the wax. “Straight for the McTavish camp, if they’ve set one near. Else to the village. Ye’ll give this into Roderick Hendry’s hand, and nae another’s. Ye’ll say I invite him here under a banner o’ truce at sunset. Alone, or with one guard. If he brings more, we shut the gate.”
The boy swallowed hard but nodded, gripping the case tight. “Aye, m’laird.”
Kian clapped his shoulder once, firm. “Go.”
The lad wheeled the pony, hooves clattering against the cobbles, and in a moment horse and rider disappeared down the misting road, swallowed by heather and shadow.
Kian stood a long while, jaw set, watching the empty space where they had gone. Tam’s words echoed in his skull —If it is blood.He shook them off. He could not afford hesitation now.
When he entered the solar, the three men he had called to awaited him. Tam by the hearth, arms folded, Hamish with the stern patience of an elder, and Campbell, restless bulk filling the chair as though it might splinter under him.
Kian shut the door behind him and didn’t waste time. “I’ve sent for Roderick Hendry under the banner o’ truce. He’ll be here by nightfall. When he comes, I’ll hand him the bairn.”
Tam’s visible eye snapped up, sharp as a hawk’s. “The bairn heclaimsis his,” he said evenly.
Hamish said nothing at first. His silence pressed heavy.
Campbell’s mouth curled, half a sneer, half a smirk. “So, we roll our bellies up and show him soft,” he muttered. “After he strutted bold into yer wife’s chambers.”
“He’ll nae strut there again,” Kian said, voice iron. “But aye, I’ll give him what he’s come for. We cannae bind a child to us by steel and spite. Blood calls to blood.”
Tam’s jaw worked. “If itisblood,” he repeated.
Kian met his gaze. “We’ve nay proof it isnae.”
At last Hamish leaned forward, his age-lined hands clasped. “I’ll say me piece plain. Roderick Hendry’s a lad who’s never seen a true battle. If he’s here under the banner o’ truce, ye take it and send him away. An ounce of peace now is worth a barrel of blood later.”
Campbell snorted. “Or we strike first, settle it clean. Men in me glen are hungry for a fight. Better that, than handin’ over what’s ours like milk to a babe.” His expression softened, barely. “Though I’ll grant ye, Crawford. Ye’ve done well. The walls stand stronger, the men move like one, the granaries smell o’ plenty. Be a pity to break it all for a McTavish pup that cannae keep his breeches tied.”
