Chapter 14
Baird stood in the middle of his study long after Davina’s footsteps had faded down the corridor. The air still held the faintest trace of her warmth and something so soft he had no right to breathe in.
He dragged a shaking hand through his hair.
“Fool,” he muttered. “Bloody. Damn. Fool.”
He turned toward the tray she had brought him. It sat on the edge of his writing table untouched. The venison was still steaming faintly, the bread felt warm beneath the napkin, and the broth was fragrant with herbs.
She had come to care for him. And he had kissed her. Then, he had shoved her away with words sharp enough to slice her heart open.
He pressed both palms flat against the desk, bowing his head. “What have ye done?”
She ran. She didn’t walk… she ran, as though the very sight of him hurt her.
And it did. He’d seen it the moment his damned tongue declared the kiss a mistake. He had watched the light in her eyes flicker and fall.
The truth was far uglier. It hadn’t been a mistake. That was exactly the problem.
He had wanted her with a fierceness he couldn’t name. It was a wanting that burned through guilt and duty and grief; a wanting that felt like betrayal even now, when his brother had barely been laid in the ground.
“Malcolm,” he whispered. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”
He reached for the edge of the table and lowered himself slowly into the chair, rubbing at the ache behind his eyes.
He tried to eat. He truly tried. He broke the bread in half, stared at the soft white beneath the crust, lifted it toward his mouth, then set it down again.
He couldn’t swallow a bite. The guilt was a stone lodged in his throat.
He needed a distraction, anything that didn’t involve thinking of Davina’s trembling breath or the shock in her eyes when he pushed her away.
So, he turned toward the scattered parchments on his desk, notes from the healer, guard rotations, the ledger of who had access to meals served to Malcolm in his final weeks.
He grabbed a quill, muttering under his breath. “Think! Use yer damn head.”
Who had served Malcolm? Who had brought him his wine, his bread, his broth?
His thoughts spilled out in jagged fragments.
“Brian brings wine from the kitchens and sometimes food, but he’s been with me since we were lads…
Maisey sees tae the hall… she could have placed anything at his setting without drawing notice…
Filib oversees the council table arrangements, there is access…
even Ailis, and all the other maids, servants, guards… ”
He stopped himself with a violent shake of his head.
“Nay,” he growled. “This way leads tae madness.”
Because the truth was there were too many possibilities. There were too many trusted hands, familiar faces, people who had served the Kincaid household for years. If he pointed a finger without proof, he could create rifts in the clan that would spill blood before winter.
“We’re surrounded,” he said quietly, staring at the ink-stained parchment. “Surrounded by ghosts and shadows.”
Every name he examined had a weakness and also, an opportunity. And he had proof for none.
His quill slipped from his fingers, skittering across the parchment. He pressed both hands into his hair, with his elbows braced on the writing table.
“Damn ye,” he breathed.
Only, he wasn’t sure if it was to the poisoner, to himself, or to fate. He hadn’t only failed Malcolm in life. He was failing him in death, too. He couldn’t find his murderer, and now, he dreamed of lying with the woman who was meant for his brother.
A quill rolled from the desk and hit the floor with a dull clatter, jolting Baird from the haze of guilt that had settled around him like smoke. He blinked, staring at the lantern. Its flame had burned dangerously low, casting long, tired shadows across the room. It was very late.
He let out a slow breath, pushing himself to his feet. His body protested. It was stiff from hours hunched over unanswered questions, but he ignored it. His thoughts had circled themselves into knots. He needed rest, or at least the attempt of it. He left the cold supper where it sat.
Baird made his way to the chambers he shared with Davina, who was yet another weight, and another reminder of everything he had done wrong that night.
He reached the door only to find that it was dark inside. He stepped in carefully, feeling his heart lurching in a way he despised.
“Davina?”
Silence answered him. He frowned, looking about the room. The bed was neatly turned down, the fire was low but warm, and her shawl was missing from its hook. She hadn’t returned. Or she had… and had left again.
A coil of concern tightened in his chest.
He told himself she was safe. The guards would have seen her pass.
The keep was secure at night. She was strong, capable, not prone to wandering without reason.
And still, he looked for her, fully aware of the fact that they had a traitor in their midst, making even his home a dangerous place. He had to find her.
The corridor was empty. However, there were places in the keep she favored.
The solar.
He walked there quietly, unwilling to draw attention, but also unwilling to disturb her if she needed solitude after what he had done. The closer he got, the more he heard faint sounds drifting down the corridor, weaving a soft, distant thread of music.
It was neither lively, nor bright. It was gentle and melancholic, and it forced him to stop just short of the doorway.
He could see her clearly.
Davina was sitting by the window, with moonlight brushing pale silver across her hair. The harp rested lightly against her shoulder, and her fingers were moving over the strings with a delicacy that made his chest ache. The melody was soft, filled with longing and regret.
He didn’t enter.
He just stood outside the solar, with his back against the stone wall, unseen by her, but close enough to hear every note. He closed his eyes, letting the music seep into him.
She was hurting. He could hear it in every chord. And he knew that he was the culprit. So he remained hidden, listening to the woman he should not want, the woman he had wounded, the woman who played like her heart was breaking.
As the last note lingered in the air, Baird stepped inside.
“That was beautiful,” he said softly.
Davina startled and turned toward him. “Oh, me laird… I didnae hear ye come in.”
“Aye, I gathered.” He forced a faint smile. “Or ye might have stopped playing sooner and that would’ve been a shame.”
Her blush deepened. She dipped her head. “Thank ye.”
He took a careful step closer, as though approaching a skittish bird. “It’s late, and I… I am a man with many regrets,” he said gently. “I am sorry, Davina. Will ye come back tae our chamber?”
She hesitated. He saw it immediately, that brief flicker of conflict in her eyes and the tightening of her fingers on the harp’s frame. What if merely saying he was sorry changed nothing?
“Davina,” he murmured. “I ken I am nae the… easiest man tae get along with. But I also ken when someone is troubled. Ye can tell me anything. Although…” He paused, searching her face. “I can guess what’s weighing on ye.”
She looked away, twisting a fold of her gown. “I… I dinnae understand the way I feel around ye.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “It frightens me.”
He moved a step closer, leaving only a few feet between them, so that he was close enough to see the faint tremble in her hands, yet far enough not to corner her.
“How dae ye feel?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head. “I dinnae ken how tae say it.”
He lifted a hand, but didn’t touch her, letting it hover just a moment at his side. “Then let me try,” he said as his voice vibrated in the quiet room. “And ye tell me if I’m wrong.”
Her breath caught.
“Dae ye feel,” he began slowly, “that yer whole body goes warm when I’m near? That heat rushes up yer neck and tae yer cheeks before ye even ken it?”
Davina’s cheeks flushed a deeper red. He liked that response.
He stepped a little closer, not once looking away from her eyes. “Dae ye feel yer stomach twist… like a thousand butterflies battering their wings all at once?”
Her fingers clutched her gown. His own touched the back of her hand with just his fingertips. His touch made her shiver. When she didn’t pull back, he let his hand drift higher, brushing the fabric of her sleeve where her arm met her shoulder.
“And yer breath…” His thumb rested lightly against her shoulder. “Daes it come too quick? Like ye cannae quite catch it when I stand too close?”
Her lips parted on a soft, unsteady exhale, which was exactly the answer he expected. Baird swallowed, the sight undoing him.
He lifted his hand again, this time more slowly and almost reverently, and touched the curve of her neck with the back of his fingers.
“Dae ye feel tingles across yer skin,” he whispered, “when I dae this?”
A flush bloomed down her throat. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.
Finally, he cupped her cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed the faint heat there.
“And when I look at ye like this,” he murmured, holding her gaze, “daes it make ye blush… and look away… because the sensation is too strong tae bear?”
Davina’s eyes dropped instantly. Everything was exactly as he described.
She wasn’t pulling away. She wasn’t afraid of him. She was simply overwhelmed and honest enough to show it. That honesty undid him more than the fiercest kiss ever could.
He let his hand slide slowly from her cheek, not wanting the moment to fracture too sharply. Her fingers trailed after his for half a heartbeat before falling gently back to her side.
He stepped back, not far, just enough to ease the trembling he felt in her shoulders. “I ken I’ve pushed ye,” he admitted. “Too much, at times. More than ye were ready fer.”
Her brow knitted faintly, as though she hadn’t expected him to say it.
He continued, choosing each word with care.
“Ye’ve been thrown intae a life ye didnae choose, with a husband ye barely ken, in a castle full of troubles that are nae yer making.
” He shook his head, inhaling deeply. “And on top of that, I’ve been a storm ye’ve had tae weather, with me anger, grief, bad temper…
mixed with moments I should’ve been wiser about. ”
A shadow passed through her eyes, but she didn’t look away.
Baird softened his voice further. “I’m nae going tae force ye tae understand yer feelings before ye’re ready.” He swallowed, as the words felt rough in his throat. “I’ll give ye time, Davina, as much as ye need.”
Her eyelashes fluttered, but she seemed to be trembling less.
“I promise ye,” he said gently, “I willnae pressure ye. Nae intae words, nae intae closeness, nae intae anything. Ye have me promise.”
He held out a hand not to pull her close, but simply to offer steady presence. For the first time that night, she placed her hand in his without trembling, and she allowed him to lead her back to their chamber.
“Come,” he said quietly.
She nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and together they left the solar. Neither spoke as they walked the dim corridor. Baird kept his pace slow, not wanting her to feel hurried, not wanting to disturb the fragile calm settling over them.
At their chamber door, she hesitated for a heartbeat. He gently squeezed her hand before letting go.
“Nay expectations,” he murmured. “Only rest.”
She gave a small nod.
Inside, the fire had burned down to glowing embers.
He moved to add a few logs, coaxing the warmth back into the room.
Davina slipped past him and he stepped aside as she undressed behind the screen, careful to give her space.
He heard the soft rustle of fabric, and then the faint sound of her hanging her gown.
When she emerged with her hair falling loose down her back, he looked away out of sheer discipline.
He changed quickly himself, extinguishing a lantern on the table before moving toward the bed.
Davina had already climbed in, lying on the far-right side. She curled slightly toward the edge. Baird circled to the left, climbing in slowly so the mattress barely shifted. They lay in silence, and he knew that she was awake. He could tell by the slight catches in her breath.
He thought of touching her hand. He thought of saying something more. But then he remembered his promise. So, he stayed still.
“Goodnight, Davina,” he said softly.
After a moment, her voice answered. “Goodnight, Baird.”
He closed his eyes. For the first time since Malcolm’s death, sleep did not feel like an enemy. And for the first time since their marriage, he did not feel quite so alone in the bed they shared.