Page 70 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
They went point by point. Guard placement. Kian insisted on heavy coverage at both the keep gates and in the village square. “If any fool wants to cause trouble tomorrow, they’ll see steel before they see opportunity,” he said.
Guest arrivals. Tam mentioned a MacKinnon cousin likely to start a brawl if given too much drink. “Keep him near the piper,” Kian said dryly, “and let them drown each other out.”
Food stalls. Kian tapped the parchment. “She’s right about the bread cart. Move it nearer the ale, but not so close that every drunk with crumbs on his shirt ends up in a fistfight.”
Tam made a note of it, still grinning like he found Kian’s irritation amusing.
The list went on to vendors, contests, livestock pens. It was tedious work, but necessary, and Kian forced himself to take every one of her observations seriously. For all her habit ofoverstepping, she’d kept the clan’s affairs steady in his absence. And, damn her, she’d done it well.
When they finally reached the end of the parchment, Tam asked, “Anything else ye want to change before tomorrow?”
Kian sat back, the chair creaking under his weight. He glanced once more at Scarlett’s script, then folded the sheet in half with a decisive snap. “We’ll keep to the plan,” he said. “Nay last-minute nonsense. If it’s nae already fixed or moved, it stays where it is. The less chaos before tomorrow, the better.”
Tam nodded and moved toward the desk to take the parchment, but Kian kept it in his hand. “I’ll tell her meself,” he said, tucking it under a ledger.
“Suit yerself,” Tam said, and started toward the door.
Kian leaned back again, gaze drifting to the fire.
He’d been doing this long enough to know that festivals weren’t about joy. They were about control. Keeping crowds from boiling over, keeping people fed and entertained enough to forget old grudges for one day. And this one, with half the Highlands coming through his gates, would be no different.
Kian tapped the folded parchment against his knee. He’d speak to Scarlett about it before the festival. To make sure they’re on the same page.
The latch on the door clicked, and Kian looked up, expecting Tam to have returned with another question.
It wasn’tjustTam.
Speakin’ of the devil herself…
Scarlett stepped into the study with Tam right behind her, as if he was being dragged there. There was a faint chill of the night clinging to her cheeks, her hair slightly wind-tossed under the weight of her cloak. Behind her, the corridor lamp caught the edge of her smile, a smile that was more business than warmth.
“Ye’re still here,” she said, eyes flicking from Kian to Tam. “Good. I was hoping I wouldnae have to track ye down.”
Tam slid past her with a nod, “M’lady.”
Kian kept his voice neutral. “Ye’ve been out.”
Alone.He thought and rolled his eyes.
Scarlett strode further into the room, unfastening her cloak with brisk fingers. “Aye. I took two of the guards down to the village with me. We walked the festival route again. Talked to the vendors, checked the staging, and assessed the games area.” She laid the folded cloak over the back of a chair. “I’ve a few adjustments to propose, and the men are waiting in the courtyard for yer answers so they can ride back and relay it tonight.”
Tam straightened but smiled knowing that Kian had just said ‘no last-minute changes’. He pulled a small scrap of parchment and a stub of charcoal from his pocket. “I’ll take notes.”
Kian’s gaze narrowed. “Ye’ve just come from the village? At this hour?”
Scarlett didn’t flinch. “It’s easier to see how the light will fall for the evening events if ye’re actuallytherein theevening. The bonfire staging is too far south. The crowd will bottleneck when folk try to pass between it and the archery range. Moving it twenty feet north will open the lane.”
Kian leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “And what else?”
She began pacing slowly in front of the hearth, ticking points off on her fingers. “The livestock pen needs reinforcing. There’s a gap in the fencing that the blacksmith’s pig nearly escaped through today. Would be a disaster. The ale vendors are too close to the children’s games. That’s an invitation for trouble. And…” She hesitated, glancing at Tam, then back at Kian. “The musicians need a platform, nae just the flat earth. If it rains, it’ll be a mire.”
Tam scribbled each note dutifully, that stupid smile smeared across his face.
Arse.
Kian studied her while she spoke. She was animated, her voice carrying the same firm certainty she’d used in her written list. But there was also a subtle shift in her manner tonight. It was less the commanding tone of someone handing down orders, more so the careful measure of someone presenting a case.
“Anythin’ else?” he asked.
