Page 62 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
“Shhh,” he muttered, attempting a softer approach. “Enough now. Ye’re fine.”
Nothing. And still Scarlett didn’t move at all.Is she dead?He half-joked with himself before his eyes watched her chest rise and fall.Good.
“All right, lass, I’ll nae tell ye again. Stop this nonsense,” he ordered, as if a bairn might understand or care about orders.
She screamed harder, the wail vibrating straight through his sternum. Warmth spread across his chest, but not from her body heat, but the damp seeping into his shirt. The bairn was crying so hard she’d wet his tunic with her tears.
Kian’s jaw tightened. He began patting her back while he bounced, but the levy in his patience gave way.
“That’s enough, Elise!” he hissed through his teeth, low but sharp.
The sound seemed to ignite her. She drew another gulp of air and wailed with renewed force.
Christ.
He turned toward the nursery with long, determined strides, putting the thick door and a hallway between the child and Scarlett’s sleeping form. The last thing he needed was his wife waking to see him bested by a creature the size of a sack of meal.
Inside the nursery, the fire burned low, its dim orange glow pooling against the stone. He began pacing in front of it, the weight of the child oddly grounding in his arms, even as her noise battered his ears.
Then, unbidden, a memory surfaced. His mother’s voice. A quiet lilt in the dark, the sound that had once been safety itself. He began to hum before he realized it, the half-forgotten melody vibrating in his chest.
The bairn’s cries faltered.
Kian’s lips shaped the words, low and rough, almost a growl, “Sleep now, little one, the moon’s on the rise. Yer bed’s made of heather, yer dreams’ full of skies…”
Her sobs dwindled to hiccups. Tiny, damp fingers curled into his tunic. Her eyes, still shining, locked on his face.
“Aye,” he murmured, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth. “At least ye’ve taste.”
He kept going, reciting verse after verse until the tiny lashes began to lower, her body growing heavier in his arms. Therhythm of her breathing slowed, each exhale a little sigh against his chest.
When she was limp with sleep again, he crossed to the cradle, set her down, and tucked the blanket snug around her.
For a moment, he stood there longer than necessary. The firelight caught on the fine gold of her hair, the pale pink curve of her cheek.
Look how small she is. How defenseless. How absurd that someone had just… left her. Who does that?
He told himself it didn’t matter. That her fate wasn’t his to decide. That she was only here until her parents were found.
And yet…
Kian reached down, tugging the blanket a little tighter around her. He’d seen men fall asleep in camp on nights like this and wake stiff and cold in the morning. Elise wasn’t going to wake cold. Not while she was inhiskeep.
He straightened, then rolling his shoulders back as he heard the softest shift coming from behind him. Alert, the peaceful silence still lingered like a weight in the air.
Scarlett.
She was leaning lightly against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smile curving her lips. Not a smirk, not one of her sharp-edged grins, but something softer.
Kian felt heat rise to his neck, and his mouth hardened into a frown before he even thought about it.
She tilted her head. “Sweet moment, that.”
He brushed past her without comment. “Ye were asleep.”
She fell into step behind him, voice lilting. “Aye, and ye were being quite sweet, husband. Holding her like —”
“I was keeping her quiet,” he cut in, striding past her and down the corridor toward his study.
