Page 31 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
A soft knock came at the door, and Scarlett sat up quickly, heart leaping, but it was only Morag returning with Elise bundled neatly against her chest.
“The bairn is fed. Drifted off again on our way back here,” Morag said, her voice unusually quiet.
Scarlett stood and took the baby from her arms. The bairn let out a puff of air that smelled like milk and sleep, then tucked her cheek against Scarlett’s collarbone.
“Thank ye,” she murmured.
Morag nodded, lingering for a moment as if she wanted to say more. Then she sniffed once and turned on her heel, muttering something about dust in the corridor.
Effie stood and stretched. “Well. That’s one of us that got a nap today.”
Scarlett smiled faintly. Elise smelled like milk and honey now, all warm and clean and impossibly soft.
Effie peeked at the baby’s sleeping face. “She looks safe.”
Scarlett looked down. Elise’s tiny hand was resting over her heart, like she knew exactly where she belonged.
“Aye,” Scarlett whispered. “She is.”
They sat down together again, more gently this time. Scarlett adjusted the baby in her arms and let her gaze wander to thewindow, where the fading light of the day cast golden shadows across the stone floor.
Effie sighed. “So what now?”
Scarlett shook her head. “Now? We keep her warm. We keep her fed. And we wait.”
“For what?”
Scarlett didn’t answer right away, but in her heart she knew.
She was waiting to see if the man who had returned to the keep would stay as her husband, or vanish again, leaving her to raise this child and this clan alone.
Again.
6
The wailing started up just after midnight.
Kian opened one eye and stared at the wooden beams above his bed, waiting to see if the sound would stop on its own.
It didn’t.
The child cried like her lungs had been lit on fire, shrill and aching. No rhythm to it. No pause for breath. Just relentless noise cutting through the thick stone walls of Crawford Keep like a blade.
With a groan, he swung his legs off the bed and shoved his feet into his boots, not bothering to lace them. The floor was cold. So was the air. His patience was colder still.
Three nights since his return, and already he was regretting not throwing that damned letter into the hearth.
The nursery door was ajar when he reached it, faint candlelight spilling through the crack. The crying had stopped, replaced by a low, soothing hum. Scarlett’s voice.
He pushed the door open slowly, letting it creak just enough to announce himself.
She stood by the cradle, holding the bairn against her chest. Her hair was loose, falling around her shoulders in waves of burnished copper. Her robe was hastily knotted, the neckline tugged askew as if Elise had tried to climb inside it for warmth.
He opened his mouth.
She turned her head sharply, eyes catching his, and pressed a finger to her lips.
“Shhh,” she whispered. “I just got her to sleep.”
