Page 88 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
He’d meant only to steady her, to shoulder the grief she carried so fiercely alone. But when she tipped her face up to him, tear-streaked and trembling, something broke loose inside his chest. Before he thought better of it, his mouth found hers.
It wasn’t like the other times. This kiss was quiet and careful. His lips brushed hers with reverence rather than hunger, as though afraid she might vanish if he pressed too hard.
Scarlett gasped softly against him, her fingers curling into his tunic, but she didn’t pull away. Instead she leaned in, returning the kiss with equal gentleness, her mouth warm and tentative. He tasted salt from her tears, felt the fragile shudder in her body as she breathed him in.
It undid him.
For once, there was no fight between them, no barbs on their tongues. Just the unspoken truth lingering in the press of lips and the fragile tether of their breaths mingling.
When at last he pulled back, it was only to rest his chin atop her hair, breathing hard as though he’d just fought a battle. Scarlett didn’t move, and that was answer enough.
He gathered her hand then, and led her to the opposite side of the room where they collapsed onto the bed together, clothes and all. No hunger driving them, no desperate hands clawing for more. Just her pressed close to his side, her head pillowed on his chest, her breath warming the fabric of his shirt.
Kian wrapped an arm around her and let the silence settle. He thought she’d drift first, but it was his own eyes that grew heavy, his body too weary from the journey, from the weight of news he’d carried home, from the kiss that had hollowed him out. Sleep took him before he could think twice.
Dawn crept pale through the shutters. Kian woke to the unfamiliar weight of another body tangled with his. Scarlett’s hair tickled his chin, strawberry strands mussed from sleep, her hand still fisted lightly in his shirt.
For one wild, reckless moment, he let himself imagine this as it might be if things were different. Waking like this every morning. A wife who trusted him enough to sleep in his arms. A bairn crying from the cradle by the hearth, theirs and no one else’s.
His chest ached with the thought.
Scarlett stirred, blinking blearily before lifting her head. The instant she realized where she was, he saw it in her eyes. The shift. The walls going back up.
She pulled back a little, clearing her throat. “That… what happened between us the other night… and last night.”
Images of her naked body writhing under his flashed across his mind like the crack of a whip. “Aye?”
“Ye distracted me from me own crazed thoughts. Thank ye for comforting me. I dinnae ken that…that… would have been so —” she cut herself off. “Anyway, thank ye.”
Kian’s jaw tightened.Is that what it was? Comfort?
The words landed sharper than he wanted them to. He forced his expression blank, though something raw burned in his chest. Sure, he played at her tenderness to bring her to heel, but comfort? The last thing he wanted to do that night was comfort her.And last night? Last night was… what was it?
It was duty. Or so he told himself.
“A husband’s duty is to take care of his wife.”
“Aye,duty,” Scarlett said and smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She slipped off the bed, smoothing her skirts as if to erase the evidence of where she’d been.
Kian lay still, watching her go, the scent of her hair still lingering on his skin, the warmth of her body already fading from the mattress beside him.
He turned his face toward the window, jaw clenched, and told himself he could live with it. The marriage of convenience that he’d always wished to have. He’d lived with worse, after all.
But God help him, the lie tasted bitterer than any truth he’d ever swallowed.
17
The nursery door was ajar when she walked by, a sliver of warmth spilling out. Inside, Scarlett found Elise swaddled and fussing in Effie’s arms while the new nursemaid hummed low in the background, adjusting a basket of linens by the fire.
Effie’s cheeks were pink with the effort of rocking and cooing. “Och, milady, she’s a sprightly one this morn. Kicked off her blanket twice already!”
The nursemaid gave a polite bob of her head. Efficient and calm. Every movement she made was quiet and competent, as if she had been born to mind children. Effie, on the other hand, looked like she was juggling an eel.
Scarlett tried to smile but it faltered. Her chest was still heavy with yesterday’s truth. Elise’s mother, gone. Nieve. The face of the girl on the roadside haunted her even now. Scarlett couldn’t push it away, no matter how she tried.
She crossed the room, bent, and pressed a kiss to Elise’s warm crown. The baby’s little fist stretched open as though to grasp her chin, then curled back into Effie’s sleeve. Scarlett lingered, letting herself breathe in that innocent scent, before stepping back.
“I’ll return shortly,” she murmured, her voice too even. “See to her bath in the meantime.”
