Page 3 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
Scarlett’s pulse skipped. “I just thought ye might like to spend a night wi’ yer wife, under her faither’s roof. Show her some kindness before draggin’ her away to a place she’s never kent.”
He turned his gaze back to her, and again she felt that strange twist in her belly. His stare was unreadable, but not empty. No, something moved behind his eyes. He was thinking. Judging. Weighing.
And somehow, she knew she wouldn’t like the verdict.
“Nay,” he said with finality. “We ride for Crawford Keep.”
Scarlett clenched her jaw and bowed. “As ye wish, husband.”
The word tasted like ash.
But then he offered his arm.
She hesitated just a moment too long, and then set her hand lightly on his sleeve. It was hard beneath her fingers, all lean muscle and rigid tension. He didn’t look at her as they moved through the thinning crowd. No waves. No goodbyes.
Effie scurried behind with her bag, whispering something under her breath that Scarlett couldn’t quite catch.
Tam Gallagher, Kian’s man-at-arms, stood by the horses. He wore a patch over one eye and a scowl that looked permanent. His thick arms were crossed, and a sword hung heavy at his hip.
“Yer lady wife,” Kian said flatly.
Tam gave a grunt of acknowledgment, though his one good eye gave her a once-over that wasn’t unkind. “M’lady.”
Scarlett nodded stiffly.
They mounted and rode in silence.
The MacLennan banners vanished behind them within minutes, swallowed by the curve of the hills. Scarlett’s heart ached with every hoofbeat. She hadn’t expected to behappy, no. But she hadn’t imagined feeling so utterly disposable.
The further they rode, the more her discomfort grew. Her new husband said nothing, offered no reassurances, asked no questions. The man was a slab of stone, carved into the shape of a Laird. Handsome, yes, unreasonably so, but colder than the Highland lochs in winter.
His jaw flexed as he rode, the muscle tight near his ear. She hated that her eyes lingered there. Hated that she noticed how his coat clung to his shoulders, or how the wind tousled his dark hair just so. He looked like a storm barely held at bay.
And I am expected to live with him?
Scarlett exhaled hard through her nose.
Another hour passed before her patience snapped.
“So. Ye’ve nothin’ to say, then?” she asked, loud enough to carry over the hooves.
He looked over at her, one brow lifting.
“Yer poor bride,” she went on, unable to help herself, “torn from her home and kin wi’ nae so much as a question whether she’d prefer to eat before bein’ hauled across the hills. Is it always so brisk, or d’ye just nae care what yer shiny new trophy thinks?”
Kian tugged the reins to slow his horse just a touch. The grin that pulled at his lips was slow, wicked.
“Trophy?” he repeated, turning fully to face her.
Scarlett’s cheeks flushed. She hadn’t meant to say that part aloud.
“Aye,” she muttered, chin high. “I meantme. But I’d wager the title suits, nay? Pretty enough to hang on yer arm but nae worth a real conversation.”
His eyes swept over her too slowly and the grin widened just enough to make her stomach twist.
“Yer me wife,” he said at last. “Nay one speaks ill of her. Nae even herself.”
That wasn’t what she expected.
