Page 98 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
But Scarlett was nowhere to be seen. He already knew why.
Elise had coughed through the night, no fever, no wheezing, but enough to knot Scarlett’s face with worry until dawn. He’d tried to assure her that bairns were delicate things, aye, but hearty too. She’d only shaken her head, whispering against Elise’s hair like the child might vanish if she dared step away.
So Kian let her be. He would greet their guests, she would guard the nursery, and neither role felt less vital than the other.
“Laird Crawford!” A voice boomed across the yard.
Kian’s gaze flicked to the newcomer, a tall man with polished boots, fine wool doublet, and a smile too smooth for the Highlands. Roderick Hendry, second son of McTavish. His hair caught gold in the sunlight, his mouth practiced charm.
“Apologies that me laird faither and elder braither couldnae attend,” Roderick said with an easy bow. “Affairs o’ the glen, ye ken how it is.”
“Aye,” Kian answered, clasping his arm briefly. “Yer presence honors us nonetheless.”
“Just me, I fear. But perhaps that makes me easier company.” His grin sharpened. “Less politics, more sport.”
Campbell ambled up behind Kian, muttering low, “More humor too, if rumor speaks true.”
Roderick’s eyes flicked to him, but the smile never faltered. “And this must be Laird Muir. I’ve heard yer name in Stirling markets more than once.”
“Hope it wasnae attached to poor ale,” Campbell said.
Roderick laughed too easily. “On the contrary. O’er the legendary Crawford whiskey. Perhaps one day we’ll talk trade, aye? I could see McTavish coin running well through Crawford casks, if ye’re open.”
Kian studied him, weighing tone, measuring glances. “Less politics, aye?”
“Only if ye wish it,” Roderick said coolly. “We’ll speak when the deer are down, or we’ll just drink!”
Kian nodded firmly and clapped the man on his shoulder. “We sport!”
Roderick bellowed and changed the subject, “Tell me, Laird Crawford… is Lady Crawford to join us this morn’?”
Kian’s jaw tightened, though he kept his expression flat. “Lady Crawford has denied us of her presence, to me dismay. Should make for a stronger introduction during luncheon.”
“Of course.” Roderick’s gaze remained playful. “Tales o’ the beauty o’ the Dunlop sisters precede them all.”
Campbell stiffened beside him. “That’s nearin’ on tavern talk, lad. If ye ken what’s good for ye, ye’ll relent.”
Roderick lifted his hands, palms forward. “Och, Thomson, I’d ne’er! I meant nay slight. I only meant to compliment Kian’s choice.” His eyes glittered, studying Kian’s face for the smallest flicker.
Kian paused for only a breath before exhaling into a wide smile. “All is good, man. All is well. Nay offense taken here. Relax, Campbell.”
Campbell remained tight, but Roderick chuckled, bowing his head, grateful for the relief in tension. “Let us hunt, aye?” he bellowed loudly.
Kian turned his horse and signaled to the hunt leader. Moments later the horns called from the trees, breaking the chatter.
Men mounted, dogs barked, and the party rode toward the glen.
The forest swallowed them in shifting light, horses picking careful paths through heather and stone. Campbell kept close to Kian, muttering under his breath about “soft-handed men who’d sell their souls for a sniff o’ profit.”
Roderick, riding just ahead, turned often, his smile plastered like paint. “So tell me, Laird Crawford. How fares yer keep now? Strong walls? Healthy stores?”
Kian’s eyes shifted to assess the man. He rode with a loose grip and an ease across his brow.Mayhap a report back to his faither.
So, he entertained the line of questioning. “The keep stands. The stores hold.”
“Ah.” Roderick tilted his head, feigning innocence. “I’m sure me faither wrote to ye ahead of this hunt. He must have his report.”
Campbell snorted, but Kian just chuckled. “Nay, but it’s nay bother. I have a clan to run meself. I understand.”
