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Kian forced his voice flat. “What did he sayexactly?”

“Only that he’d explain in person. Dinnae want to commit the details to paper.”

Tam leaned a hip against the desk. “Could be he’s found the maither. Could be it’s a false trail. But if it’s true —”

“We’ll ken soon enough,” Kian cut in, perhaps more sharply than necessary.

Tam studied him. “Ye seem riled.”

Kian arched a brow. “Do I?”

“Aye. Like ye’ve been sleepin’ in yer boots and someone just lit the bed on fire.” Tam’s gaze flicked to the whiskey decanter and then back. “Ye need to take the edge off.”

Kian’s eyes narrowed. “If yer implyin’—”

“Oh aye, I’m implyin’,” Tam said, with the bluntness only he could get away with. “And I’m talkin’ about the lass ye call a wife, nae the drink.”

Kian’s lips curved into something between a smirk and a warning. “Careful, Gallagher. That’s dangerous territory. I’d hate to see ye assigned to privy duty beside James.”

Tam grinned faintly. “Fair enough.”

Still, Kian walked back over to the decanter and poured two fingers of whiskey.

They drank in companionable silence for a moment.

Then Kian set his glass down. “Michaelmas Festival — ye’ve seen to the musicians?”

Tam nodded. “Aye. Pipers from Glenrothes. And I’ve warned them if they start the reels too early, Morag’ll have their heads.”

“What about the carpenters for the tables?”

“Two confirmed.”

Kian groaned. “Hire a sober one, in case Cam shows up drunk again. And tell Effie she’s barred from any cider barrels until the guests are gone.”

Tam snorted. “That might take more men than we’ve got.”

Kian scribbled a note in the margin of his planning sheet, but the words blurred. His mind wasn’t on carpenters or pipers. It was back in Scarlett’s chamber, her laugh soft in her throat as Elise’s tiny fingers tangled in her gown. Back at the way she’d smirked when he’d held the bairn like she was spun sugar.

Problem? Me eye.

He forced his attention back to Tam. “Lanterns?”

“Morag’s got them. Already polished. Said she’ll hang ye from the gate herself if ye interfere.”

Kian almost smiled at that. Almost. “Then I’ll leave her to it.”

They worked through the list, Kian giving crisp orders and Tam jotting them down. But half the time, Kian had no memory of what he’d just said. His mind kept wandering, tracing the curve of Scarlett’s smile, the sound of Elise’s laugh, and the unsettling warmth that had lodged somewhere in his chest.

10

Scarlett folded her arms, studying the nursemaid candidate before her. “Tell me, Màiri, what would ye do if the bairn woke in the night wi’ a fever?”

Màiri didn’t flinch. Her dark eyes were steady, voice calm but certain. “First, I’d strip away the heavy blankets. A bairn needs warmth, aye, but nae to smother. I’d cool her brow wi’ a damp cloth, and if her skin burned still, I’d steep a willow bark tea for ye or the healer to dose her gentle. I’d hold her close, but upright, so her chest could ease its burden. And I’d hum quiet-like. Bairns ken the rhythm of a heartbeat better than any tonic.”

Scarlett blinked. “Ye’ve tended fevers before?”

Màiri inclined her head. “I raised my three brothers when our mam passed. Two near died o’ the winter ague, but I nursed them through. A bairn needs more than herbs, m’lady. She needs steady hands and a soul that willnae falter.”