Page 18 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
And even took a corner too tightly, and shoulder-checked the stone wall that bit back painfully, but that didn’t deter her.
In the study, she went straight to the desk, and whipped a piece of parchment from the drawer, slamming it atop the wood.
The quill scratched furiously as she began to write.
Laird Crawford,
If ye have even a shred of decency beneath that cold, brooding brow of yers, ye’ll return at once. This is not a request. I’ve spent eight months waiting. I’ll wait no longer.
Lady Scarlett
She signed it with a hard, final stroke, then sealed the letter before the ink was dry.
Effie lingered at the doorway, brows lifted.
Scarlett looked up, green eyes blazing toward Effie’s quiet, lingering figure in the doorway.
“Find a rider. Tell him to ride like hell. And if me husband asks why I’ve dared command him,” she said, waving the letter angrily. “Tell him that absence forfeits authority, and that he is expected withimmediacy.”
Kian broke the red wax seal with his thumb, smearing a streak of ink where it hadn’t fully dried. His brow furrowed. The courier had handed it over like it held a royal decree.
The handwriting was unmistakable. Bold. Tilted. No frills.
He read the first line.
By the third, he was smiling.
By the last, he was laughing. A menacingly low and dark sound.
If ye have even a shred of decency beneath that cold, brooding brow of yers…
God, she was still furious. Good.
He leaned back in his chair, folding the letter once and tapping the edge against his knee. She didn’t once ask for him to come home before, or even ask when he was due to return, but now…. Shecommandedhim.
And she thought she could command me without consequence?
His smile flattened. He turned to stare out the window of the Edinburgh townhouse where he’d set up temporary quarters. It overlooked slate roofs and the grey ribbon of the Water of Leith. The city was loud, bustling, full of distractions.
And yet, for weeks now, he’d found himself distracted only by thoughts of her.
He hadn’t expected her to last long at the keep. Not with its harsh winters and long silences. But from what little word he’d had, from her letters but mostly secondhand, Scarlett Murray had turned Crawford Keep inside out and made it stand at attention.
She’d made a place for herself without him.
Now she wanted him back. But not for affection. Not for longing. No, she needed something. Something urgent enough to make her drop the pretense of courtesy.
He stood and crossed the room, pulling on his coat.
“She needs remindin’,” he muttered, half to himself, “of who gives the orders in this marriage.”
He wouldn’t send word.
He wouldn’t write back.
He would ride.
And when he returned to Crawford Keep, Lady Scarlett Crawford would learn that commanding a man like him came with a price.
