Page 89 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
Effie nodded brightly, though her smile wobbled with uncertainty. “Aye, m’lady.”
Back in her chamber, Scarlett found a steaming tub waiting. Effie must have stoked the fire before dawn. The steam curled against the air, sweetened faintly with rosemary sprigs.
Scarlett loosened her gown and let it fall, slipping into the water with a sigh. The warmth should have eased her, but her body felt like stone. She dipped beneath the surface, holding there until her lungs burned, before coming up and dragging her hair back from her face.
Her mind circled the same jagged thoughts.
Nieve had trusted them. Had written that letter with trembling hands, believing Scarlett and Kian would do what she could not.
Scarlett pressed her palms over her eyes. The ifs piled high until they crushed her. And beneath them all lurked something darker. A new fear.
From the first night Elise had been laid in her arms, a quiet voice had whispered:Ye’re nae meant for this. Ye’ve nay milk, nay training, nay right.The voice had only grown louder since.
She was Lady Crawford, but could she be a mother? Nieve had carried Elise in her womb, and had given birth to her. What claim did Scarlett have, truly, save for chance and circumstance?
What if I failed her? What if Elise grew up wanting something Scarlett could never give? What if I am only ever a pale imitation of what a maither should be?
The thoughts hollowed her out. She sank lower in the water, letting the heat lick her skin until it stung.
The clang of steel rang sharp in the morning air. Kian’s blade met Tam’s with a crack that reverberated up his arm. He twisted, drove forward, but Tam was quicker than he looked, pivoting on his heel and slamming the flat of his sword against Kian’s guard.
“Ye’re swingin’ like a man possessed,” Tam grunted, eyes narrowing. Sweat already darkened the collar of his tunic.
“Better than brooding in a chair,” Kian snapped, shoving him back a pace and circling.
The training yard was still damp with dew, the sun only just cresting the far ridge. The walls of Crawford Keep threw longshadows across the packed dirt, and the air bit sharp with cold. A handful of guards had gathered near the fence, pretending not to watch, but Kian ignored them. He needed the fight. He needed the sting of muscle, the burn of his lungs. Anything but the memory of Scarlett’s tears, the way her shoulders had crumpled under the weight of that cursed letter.
Tam swung again. Kian ducked, drove his shoulder into the man’s ribs, and they grappled, blades forgotten for the moment. The thud of their boots on the dirt echoed against the stone.
“Yer wife’ll nae thank ye if ye break yer back before breakfast,” Tam wheezed, shoving him off.
“She’ll nae thank me anyway,” Kian muttered, stooping for his sword.
Tam straightened slowly, wiping his forearm across his brow. “So that’s what this is, eh? Ye’re wearin’ yerself out ‘cause Scarlett wept.”
Kian froze, jaw clenching. His grip on the hilt tightened until the leather creaked. “She’s nae weak,” he ground out.
“I dinnae say she was.” Tam tilted his head, studying him with that infuriating calm. “I said she wept. And ye dinnae ken what to do wi’ it.”
Kian’s stomach knotted. He charged forward, steel flashing, and Tam barely raised his guard in time. They clashed, locked hilts, sweat dripping from their brows.
“It’s nae the tears,” Kian hissed, forcing Tam back. “It’s what they mean. She blames herself. Thinks she could’ve saved that lass. Thinks she’ll fail the bairn.”
“And ye?” Tam pushed back hard, their blades screeching. “What do ye think?”
The question cut sharper than any steel. Kian wrenched free, striking again, his movements wild enough to draw a startled glance from one of the guards on the rail. He didn’t answer. Not when every time he closed his eyes he saw Scarlett’s face as she whispered Nieve’s name, broken as if her heart had split down the middle.
Tam parried, then deliberately dropped his blade into the dirt. Kian stumbled a half-step, caught off guard, and Tam’s fist thudded into his chest hard enough to knock the breath from him.
“Bloody hell, Tam!”
“Yer fighting like a madman,” Tam said flatly. He bent, retrieved his blade, and rested it against his shoulder. “And that truth is simple. Ye cannae mend what’s already broken. The lass is dead. But the ones left still need ye.”
Kian stood heaving, chest rising and falling like bellows. The sting of the blow throbbed in his ribs, but the words cut deeper.
“She says she’ll nae let Elise go,” Kian admitted at last, low, rough. “That she’ll fight me if I try. And God help me, Tam, when she said it, I believed her.”
Tam’s mouth twitched, something like amusement sparking in his good eye. “Aye. Scarlett’s got more steel in her than half the men out here.”
