1
“Ye’ll nae ruin this, Scarlett. D’ye hear me?”
Astrid’s voice cut sharp through the tented air, her lips barely parting as she smiled tightly at a passing guest. Her fingers clutched Scarlett’s wrist, her grip deceptively gentle.
Scarlett blinked at her mother, more tired than angry. “Ruinwhat, exactly? The sham ye and Da arranged behind me back?” Her words came out quiet, but dry as dust.
Astrid’s smile didn’t falter, though her nostrils flared. “The alliance, lass. Yer duty. The alliance between MacLennan and Crawford depends onyekeepin’ yer head down and yer mouthshut.”
Scarlett scoffed and pulled her arm free. “I’vedoneme duty. I wore the dress, I spoke the vows, I held his bloody hand atthe altar, though he’d barely look at me. What more d’ye want, Maither? A painted smile and a grateful curtsy?”
Astrid’s teeth clacked softly as she tsked. “He’s a Laird, Scarlett. Ye’re nae a barmaid flirtin’ in the tavern. Behave yerself. There’s power in restraint.”
Restraint?Scarlett swallowed the bitter laugh threatening her throat.
“He’s nae even spoken a full sentence to me. Nae a letter before today, nae a glance durin’ the ceremony. What restraint would ye have me show, exactly? Shall I sit by the hearth like a good lass, knittin’ socks for a stranger who’d rather be in anywhere else?”
Her mother’s lips twitched, ready to retort, but then she froze.
Astrid’s spine stiffened. Her eyes widened just a hair as she reached out, smoothing Scarlett’s already flawless sleeve.
“He’s comin’,” she murmured, barely a breath.
Scarlett turned before she could think better of it.
The air left her lungs.
There he was.
Laird Kian Murray, her brand-new husband. Tall as sin and twice as unforgiving. His dark hair was wind-tossed but neatly tied at his nape, his deep green tartan casting a shadow over the powerful lines of his shoulders. He strode through the crowd with the ease of a man used to command. Some people moved to greet him, but one look sent them scuttling back. He was making straight for her.
Scarlett’s pulse kicked up. She drew her chin up, summoning the chill she’d perfected during ceilidhs and family functions, but it barely held. He hadn’t even said a word, and already her body was betraying her.
She didn’t clearly remember the ceremony because she’d been too dazed and panicked. But one thing stood out like firelight in the dark.
His eyes.
He’d looked at her like he meant to study every inch, then burn her from memory. Not kindly. Not cruelly. Just intensely.
Now those same eyes pinned her again. Light brown, unreadable, and far too intelligent.
She took a step back before she caught herself.
“Nae too late to run,” came a voice from behind her.
Effie. Of course.
Scarlett glanced at her maid, who was pretending to tidy the hem of her gown while watching the Laird approach with open fascination.
“If I bolt, will ye follow with me trunks?” Scarlett muttered.
Effie grinned. “I’ll pack yer nightgown and all.”
“Enough,” Astrid hissed, smoothing her skirts.
The crowd around them began to hush. Even the musicians faltered, their tune stumbling into an awkward end. Scarlett felt the weight of every gaze shift toward her.
She braced herself as Kian stopped before her.