Page 65 of Owned by the Scarred Laird

The corner of her mouth moved, gone before it settled into anything. “So it wasnae for me, then.”

“I didnae say that.”

She looked at him properly for the first time since he’d come through the door. He found he had nothing ready for that, and the quiet went on a beat too long before he broke it himself.

“Rest the two days,” he said, rougher than he meant it. “Then we’ll see about the ridin’.”

He was through the door before she could answer, boots loud on the stone.

The granary inspection took him the better part of the morning. A severe problem was developing with the eastern storage bay. Dampness was seeping through the lower foundation stones, not flooding yet, but persistent and steady.

He went through the grain inventory with his steward, his voice flat as they discussed the necessary repointing of the affected masonry wall. He made three sharp decisions, deferred a fourth, and finally emerged into the open courtyard at midday with the logistical problem only partially resolved.

His thoughts remained stuck. They were still lingering in the moment she thanked him. The memory of her bare shoulders at the window burned at the back of his eyes.

He crossed the muddy stones to the training yard.

Tyler was running Duncan through rapid footwork drills. Duncan’s technique had undeniably improved.

Tyler circled the boy, wooden blade loose in his grip. “Feet first, sword second. How many times have I told ye that?”

“Feet first, sword second.” Duncan reset his stance without being told twice.

“Again. Faster.”

Duncan ran the sequence again, quicker this time, and Tyler made a low sound in his throat that might have been approval, if a man were forced to guess at it.

“That’s it?” Duncan asked, breathing hard. “That’s all I get?”

“Ye get a grunt. Ask the Laird for more than that and see how far it gets ye.”

Edward watched the exchange from the iron gate without announcing his presence. The boy’s left shoulder was still dropping too low on the recovery, leaving his flank exposed, but his feet were significantly cleaner than they had been a fortnight ago, and the natural speed was coming.

Tyler’s eyes caught him at the gate. Edward shook his head slightly, a silent command to keep going. Tyler instantly returned his full attention to Duncan, his wooden practice sword whistling through the air without missing a single step.

He stayed for about ten minutes. It was enough time to see what he needed to see, which was that the boy was doing well. That was all he ever required from anyone under his command. He turned and left the yard without saying a word to either of them.

The long afternoon passed in a blur of clan tallies and ledgers. He worked methodically. He ate his bread cold. He did not go near the nursery.

He told himself it was the ledgers keeping him from it. He told himself that right up until the light went out, and after that, he stopped bothering to tell himself anything at all.

Two days. Then she rides, and it stops bein’ me business where she sleeps.

19

Beathag returned to examine her two days later. She retied the final knot in the linen wrapping and smoothed the edge with her thumb, allowing the room to settle back into its usual quiet. The fire softly crackled in the grate. Outside in the stone hallway, the thud of Edward’s footsteps gradually faded down the corridor and disappeared entirely.

Mrs. Donnan had not left the chamber. She remained standing near the frame with her hands folded tightly in front of her, watching Beathag work.

Chloe lowered her foot carefully from the wooden stool, keeping her weight off the joint.

“The Laird came himself,” she said softly. She did not direct the words to either woman in particular, simply placing the quiet observation into the open room.

Mrs. Donnan said nothing, her posture unyielding. Beathag gathered her medical instruments.

“He didnae send Tyler,” Chloe continued, her voice tracking them. “Or a maid. He came here himself and stood there the whole time.”

A thick silence stretched between them. Then Mrs. Donnan spoke, her voice dropping so low it was almost to herself. “Surprisin’, the way he kens how to care for someone. After all the violence he has ken.”