Page 69 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
Scarlett tilted her head, letting her gaze flick over him slowly. “I apologize if I caused ye worry,” she said, the sincerity in her tone undercut by the faintest curl of her lips.
He frowned. “If?”
She lifted her chin. “But ItoldMorag. So truly, this is a matter between ye and yer housekeeper.”
For a heartbeat, silence stretched taut between them.
Then Kian let out a sharp huff of breath that might have been a laugh, or might have been the prelude to a lecture. Before he could decide which, she stepped past him, her skirts brushing his thigh as she headed for the keep’s main doors.
He caught her arm. His grip wasn’t hard, but it was enough to halt her. “Scarlett.”
She looked back, brows lifted.
“Ye’re nae untouchable,” he said quietly, his voice dropping into that dangerous timbre that made her stomach flip. “Remember that.”
Her own voice softened, though the challenge in it didn’t fade. “Neither are ye, Kian.”
For the span of three heartbeats, they just looked at each other. His eyes sharp, hers warm and steady before she smiled, slow and knowing, and pulled free.
“Now, if ye’ll excuse me,” she murmured, “I have a bath that’s callin’ me name.”
She swept inside and called out over her shoulder, “Oh, and I’ll be takin’ me supper on a tray in me chambers.”
13
The fire in the study was down to embers, hissing now and then as sap spat from the logs. The air smelled faintly of smoke and parchment ink. Kian sat behind the wide oak desk. His elbows planted on either side of a single sheet of parchment that was more densely packed with notes than anything he’d written himself. Scarlett’s hand was unmistakable. It was tidy with a few showy curls where her wrist had flicked at the end of a word, fast and smug. Just as her letters had been.
He read through the list again, jaw tight.
Three trestle tables are cracked clean through near the south end of the village square is unfit for holding barrels.
The blue awning at the butcher’s stall hangs low enough to knock a bonnet clean off. Raise it or replace it.
Bread cart too far from ale vendors. Shift position to ease foot traffic and prevent spillage.
He paused halfway down the parchment, scowling at a smudge.
Three stalls need — nay, wait — “Three stalls need new canvas,” he muttered out loud, wiped at the tea smudge, then read on.
Scarlett was irritatingly thorough. He could almost hear her voice rattling these off, smug as a cat with a catch.
Tam was leaning against the wall near the hearth, arms crossed, watching him read. “That all from Scarlett?”
Kian didn’t look up. “Aye.”
“She’s got a good eye,” Tam said, but there was a smile tucked into his beard that Kian decided not to address.
“She’s got opinions,” Kian muttered.
Tam shrugged. “Mayhap that’s why the villagers like her,” Tam said, rubbing the back of his neck like he’d immediately just realized he’d said too much.
Kian ignored that and scanned further down. “Says here the piper we hired for the festival was three cups in before midday yesterday. Can we not find a sober man who can play a chanter?”
Tam chuckled. “If ye want sober, ye’ll get one that plays like a strangled goose. If ye want decent music, ye’ll get one that’s already got a good drink in him.”
“Christ.” Kian pushed the parchment away and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “All right — make sure the man’s watched. If he can stand and play, he stays. If he falls over, I’ll toss him in the horse trough myself.”
“Aye.” Tam shifted his stance, readying the next item.
