Page 21 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
“Then hang me. I’m long overdue for some peace and quiet.”
He bit down on a grin as they turned down the corridor toward his study. It was the only place he knew they wouldn’t be interrupted, and it was apparent that she knew the same.
She stepped inside ahead of him, and he followed, shutting the door behind them.
The warmth of the fire met him first. Then her. She smelled of lavender mixed with smoke and something sharp beneath it, like clove or citrus.
She turned to face him. Her hands still folded neatly in front of her.
Kian studied her. This close, the dark circles beneath her eyes were more pronounced. She looked like she hadn’t slept well in weeks. And still… still, she was the most beautiful thing he’d seen since spring broke the frost.
And already she was looking at him like she meant to win a fight.
He dragged a hand over his jaw. “Right, then. Let’s hear what was so important.”
Scarlett nodded once, slowly.
“Chair,” she said, finally, pointing firmly behind him. “Because this is goin’ to come as a shock.”
He didn’t sit right away.
Instead, he watched her. The calm, business-like way she moved across the study. The way she retrieved something from a locked drawer. It was a simple envelope, but worn at the edges. Her fingers brushed the fold as if debating whether to hand it over.
“Go on, then,” Kian said. “If we’re past pleasantries.”
Scarlett walked back toward him, extending the envelope like it weighed more than it should.
He took it without comment, his brow twitching only slightly when he saw his name written beside hers.
To the Laird and Lady Crawford.
No seal. No return mark. Just the rough scrawl of someone in haste.
He unfolded the note inside.
Scarlett stood unmoving, opposite him. Her arms were crossed, and her emerald eyes were watching not his face, but hisreaction.
Kian read the message to himself once.
Then twice.
He lowered the parchment slowly.
“Is this a jest? What is this?” he asked flatly.
“Do I look like I’m jestin’?” Scarlett replied.
Kian narrowed his eyes at her.
She remained stoic and watching.
He held up the letter, rereading it aloud.
“This is…Elise…? Please care for her as if she were yer own… We cannae keep her… We only ask that the Laird and Lady Crawford show her kindness… She is good. She is loved. She deserves a life better than the one we can give her.”
He looked up slowly. “This letter assumes quite a bit. What did I just read? Is this all?”
“Nay,” Scarlett said, turning toward the door. “There’s more.”
