Page 2 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
“Lady Crawford,” he said, low and formal.
Her full title. Not Scarlett. Not even a polite compliment.
A man of warmth and passion, then.
“Laird Crawford,” she returned, lifting her chin. “Or shall I call ye husband now?”
His brow arched, and something flickered behind his eyes. It might’ve been amusement.
Or judgment.
“We’ll leave shortly,” he said, and turned toward the waiting horses.
Just like that.
Scarlett stared after him, stunned. “Shortly? We’ve barely eaten.”
“He’s eager to show ye yer new home,” Astrid offered hastily.
Scarlett rounded on her mother. “He’s eager to claim me and have an heir, ye mean?”
Astrid reached again for her wrist, but Scarlett sidestepped the touch.
She looked around the wedding grounds, at the flower-draped arch that meant nothing now, the MacLennan and Crawford colors twisted together like they were trying to suffocate her. She hadn’t wanted this life. But she’d agreed for the safety of the clan, and mostly for her sisters.
And yet the man who was supposed to lead her into it hadn’t even had the decency tolookat her.
Her fingers clenched at her sides.
“Well,” she said under her breath, turning her eyes once more to the retreating figure of her husband. “If he thinks I’ll make this easy for him, he’s in for a rude wakening.”
She lifted her skirts and followed him, shoulders back, heart pounding, fury a thin wire running through her veins.
Kian Murray’s footsteps were measured and heavy. Each one thudded like a war drum against the stone path. He stopped in front of her without a word, casting a long shadow over her satin skirts.
“Ready?” He stated simply more so than asked.
That was it. No greeting. No compliment. Not even a nod to her appearance, though Effie had spent two hours curling her unruly hair and tucking in the wilder strands. Her crown of strawberry-blonde was pinned high, her green eyes outlined in kohl, and the dress she wore was hand-stitched from MacLennan silk that glimmered like morning dew.
And still, he looked at her like a reluctant farmer surveying a poorly bred mule.
Scarlett stiffened, then forced herself to smile. “Time, is it? Could we nae stay a day or two longer? Ye’ve nae even met me sisters properly.”
Her voice was softer than she’d meant it to be, and it startled her just how small she came off. She had intended to be amiable… not pitiful.Damn.
For all his silence, this was her husband now. Her life. She ought to try, at least. If he’d only see how likable and charming she was, and would be as a partner, perhaps they could begin on steady ground.
“I daenae need to meet yer sisters, Scarlett,” he said, brown eyes flat. “We’re wed. The formalities are done.”
Her heart lurched.A formality?
She swallowed it down, lifting her chin, painting steel over the soft ache.
“Well,” she said, bitterness returning to her tongue, “that’s a pity. Ye’d he liked them better than me.”
Effie made a scandalized noise behind her. Scarlett wished she had the gall to do the same.
Kian glanced toward the waiting horses, where his man-at-arms adjusted the saddle cinch with a grim frown. “We ride.”
