Page 99 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
Roderick smiled smoothly. “Ah, here he told me he would so ye might be able to help me out.”
Kian’s gaze remained neutral, even though he could see Campbell’s grip tightening around his reins.. “Speak plainly, then. I’ll see if I can afford to offer some resources to yer cause.”
Roderick shrugged, all careless grace. “I’ve been havin’ a terrible time lookin’ for someone. None of me men have been successful. Mayhap yer man, Tam, is it?”
“Aye, Tam.”
“Mayhap Tam can assist. Heard he was good at findin’ people.”
“Sure, I have a few men who might be able to help. Depends on the target as to who I’d lend ye.”
“Thank ye, Kian. Och, just a lad from the northern isles who we caught smugglin’ out our stores earlier this year. I mean to collect on the coin he’s promised us.”
Kian let his eyes drop over Campbell, who had eased his grip significantly.Good.
“Aye, Duncan Ross will be yer man. I’ll speak to him after the hunt and make introductions later on.”
“Thank ye, kindly, Kian. I’ll make sure me faither gets the word as well. Will put his mind at ease.”
The horns sounded again, and deer flushed ahead. The dogs surged, the party quickened. Roderick kicked his horse forward, laughing, calling back over his shoulder, “Let’s see if Crawford and Muir arrows are as sharp as McTavish’s, lads!”
Kian and Campbell both laughed and urged their steeds after the man. “In yer dreams,” Campbell hollered, bow knocked and aimed true.
Kian would let them fight it out this round. There would be several other chances that morning to make a kill.
20
The great hall roared with voices. Laughter from Campbell’s booming tone, the shriller chatter of Skylar with one of the younger lairds’ wives, and the endless shuffle of servants carrying trenchers and pitchers up and down the length of the table. Scarlett tried to keep her smile fixed as she sat near the head, Elise cradled drowsily in her arms, but she felt as worn as the rushes beneath her shoes.
Two days of constant company. Two days of feasts… of hounds baying in the yard, men clamoring for sport and women gossiping at every turn. Crawford Keep had not seen this much bustle since her wedding night, and though she ought to be proud of how smoothly it all ran. Morag and Effie and all of the others darting about with practiced efficiency, the servants never once dropping a dish.
She was exhausted.
Elise shifted against her chest, small fists pressing into her gown. Her health had improved since her light cough the daybefore, but she still tired quickly. Scarlett brushed her lips to the baby’s head, guilt tugging at her heart. If she was weary, what must Elise feel, surrounded by so much noise and light?
She glanced down the table. Kian was speaking low with Campbell, his dark head bent, one large hand wrapped loosely around a tankard. The sight of him being so calm, assured, and seemingly untouched by the chaos sent a stab of envy through her.
Did he not feel the same bone-deep fatigue? Did all lairds thrive beneath this constant demand?
A hand brushed her arm. “Lady Crawford, another trencher?” a maid whispered.
Scarlett startled. “Nay, thank ye. I’ve had enough.”
The girl curtsied and slipped away. Scarlett exhaled. She was glad when Elise’s eyes fluttered shut, granting her at least the illusion of peace.
That illusion shattered a moment later when her mother’s voice carried across the table.
“Scarlett, dear, ye’re pale. Are ye sure the bairn ought to be up so late?”
Dozens of eyes turned toward her. Scarlett swallowed the sharp retort on her tongue. Astrid would never change, not even in front of half the Highlands.
Before she could answer, another voice cut through, unmistakably Kian’s. “She’s fine, Astrid.”
Scarlett’s eyes snapped to him. His gaze met hers briefly, unreadable, before he turned back to Campbell as though nothing had been said. But something in her chest loosened at his simple defense.
The night wore on. When finally the company dispersed to their chambers, Scarlett carried Elise back to the nursery, her limbs heavy as stone. Effie bustled in behind her, chattering about how grand the feast had been. Scarlett smiled faintly, but her eyes strayed to the baby sleeping in the cradle. Elise slept soundly, lips parted, her little chest rising and falling with a steadiness Scarlett envied.
She brushed a finger down Elise’s cheek. “Rest, me heart,” she whispered.
