Chapter 15
Davina woke that morning with a sense of purpose, or at least she tried to convince herself of it.
Two days of uneasy peace had passed since the night in the solar.
She and Baird moved around one another with a strange new gentleness, as though both were afraid of brushing against something too tender, too recently exposed.
He had kept his promise. He had not pressed her. He had been courteous, even warm, in his own quiet way, but still careful.
And she… she did not know quite what to do with that. So, she turned her attention to something she did understand: the garden.
By midmorning she found herself descending the outer steps, with her skirts gathered lightly in one hand. The day held the first whispers of spring, shy but pleasant. It made her heart stir with a faint sort of hope.
She crossed the courtyard and headed toward the worn stone gate leading to the garden.
Children darted toward her as she passed, waving and calling greetings, no doubt remembering the mud-soaked chaos she and the laird had been dragged into days earlier.
Davina smiled back, though her cheeks warmed at the memory.
She found two of the gardeners kneeling beside a row of battered winter shrubs, pruning back dead branches. They rose the moment she approached, wiping their hands on their aprons.
“Good day, me lady,” Gregor greeted her.
“Good day,” Davina replied warmly. “I came tae see whether the supplies I requested last week have arrived. The seed trays, the spades, and the new pots, did they come in from the village yet?”
Ian and Gregor exchanged an uncomfortable look.
Davina’s smile faded. “Is something wrong?”
Gregor cleared his throat. “The items are ready tae be fetched, aye. But… we cannae bring them in until the laird approves the request.”
“They’re still waiting fer his signature, me lady,” Ian added, shifting his weight. “Until then, ye’re welcome tae use whatever is already here, but we cannae purchase new stock.”
Davina blinked, feeling surprise wash through her. “Oh, I see.”
Her stomach tightened not in anger, but in confusion.
She knew Baird had seen the request. Surely he had.
She had put it directly into the pile Ailis delivered to his desk every morning.
And he had not objected when he came upon her in the garden before.
He had even helped her. So why had he not approved this?
Was he reluctant? Was he merely busy? Had she… overstepped?
She forced a small smile, though her cheeks felt stiff. “Thank ye. I appreciate the clarification.”
The men bowed their heads respectfully and returned to their work, leaving Davina standing among the wild tangle of weeds and half-restored flowerbeds. The garden suddenly felt large, half-alive, and full of things reaching for spring but unsure how to bloom… much like herself.
She slowly moved to the old stone bench near the wall and sat, smoothing her skirts absentmindedly. A knot formed in her chest that she hadn’t expected. It was disappointment mixed with something softer and far more bewildering.
She wanted to believe Baird had simply forgotten. But some part of her feared it meant he regretted the strides they had made, and that he wished for distance again.
Davina pressed her fingers lightly to her temple.
“Dinnae be foolish,” she whispered to herself. “He has more burdens than any one man should.”
And yet… not signing the request felt like a small door closing.
“I will speak with him,” she thought, though her stomach fluttered with nerves at the very thought.
Because every time she approached Baird now, her heart behaved with an absurd and unruly lack of decorum.
Suddenly, Davina rose from the stone bench, feeling determination settling over her.
If she hesitated now, she would lose her nerve entirely.
She crossed the courtyard and stepped back into the keep.
Her footsteps echoed softly along the corridor as she approached Baird’s study, the place he buried himself whenever the weight of the clan grew too heavy to bear.
She paused at the door only long enough to draw a steadying breath. Then, she knocked.
“Come in,” Baird’s voice called in the tone he used when deep in matters of command.
Davina opened the door. Baird was standing beside the long table, with a map unrolled across it. Kenny was with him, pointing to something along the southern border. Both men looked up the moment she entered.
Davina felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She had not expected Kenny to be present. Still, she held her ground.
“Forgive the intrusion,” she said, though her voice carried more steel than apology. “But we need tae speak.”
Baird’s brows lowered slightly. “Can it nae wait, Davina?”
“Nay.” She lifted her chin. “It cannae.”
A flicker of surprise crossed both men’s faces. Davina rarely used that commanding tone and Baird did not appear to like it. His jaw tightened, just faintly. But before he could answer, Kenny stepped back from the table.
“I’ll give ye the room,” he said simply.
Baird glanced at him, with irritation and restraint mixing in the furrow between his brows. “Kenny—”
Kenny only shook his head lightly. “This seems… important.” His eyes flicked to Davina and softened in understanding. “Me laird.”
With a respectful nod to them both, he headed for the door, slipping past Davina with a quiet me lady before pulling it closed behind him.
Silence dropped like a stone. Baird exhaled once and turned fully toward her. His eyes settled on her face.
“What is it, Davina?” he asked in a tone that was neither unkind, nor warm.
Davina clasped her hands before her to stop them from fidgeting.
“The gardeners told me this morning,” she began carefully, “that the request fer supplies I submitted… has nae been approved.”
He frowned at her words. Still, she took a step closer.
“And I would like tae ken why.”
Baird’s expression barely shifted, save for the faint tightening at the corner of his jaw. “I saw them,” he said. “I meant tae sign off, but I’ve had matters of greater urgency tae attend tae.”
Davina blinked. “Greater urgency?”
“Aye.” His tone cooled. “The borders. The thefts. The Council. A dozen things that cannae wait.”
He didn’t mention his brother’s death or finding out how he died, but she knew that this was also a part of it. She could understand things of greater importance. What she could not understand was him turning away from her for no apparent reason. After all it was just a signature.
“I ken that,” she agreed.
She hesitated as she watched the tension settle across his shoulders.
That was the weight of duties he never voiced, only carried.
Her eyes glanced at the writing table crowded with documents, maps and sealed letters, all demanding something from him.
He was too burdened, but perhaps, she could ease that burden, if only a little.
“What if I help ye?”
His brows rose as though she had suggested climbing onto the battlements and shouting at the wind. “Help me?”
“Aye,” she nodded, stepping closer. “If ye have so many matters that press upon ye, then let me shoulder one or two beside ye. Ye need the time, and I need the garden. If I help, we can finish sooner, and then we can go tae the town together. The supplies are ready and waiting.”
He only stared at her for a long time. He seemed to be caught off guard.
“Davina,” he began wearily, “this is clan business. Some of it is nae—”
“Then tell me what I can help with,” she interrupted gently. “And I will. Then afterward, we can have the hours we need.”
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and sighed, more quietly this time.
“There are correspondence piles that need sorting,” he admitted reluctantly. “Reports from the outlying farms, notices from the Council. Half of it is rubbish, and the other half is important, and I have nae had a moment tae separate them.”
She smiled, feeling relieved. “That I can dae.”
He blinked at her. “Ye’re certain?”
“Aye,” she confirmed. “Let me help, Baird, please.”
He stepped aside from his great table not to dismiss her, but to welcome her into the space he guarded most fiercely, which was his work.
“Very well,” he nodded. “Come.”
Davina moved to the table. Papers were stacked in uneven piles, some sealed, some half-folded, and some creased at the edges by handling. She began picking through them with a practiced eye, gleaned from years of helping manage her father’s household accounts.
“This is a supply request fer fencing,” she murmured, flipping open a letter. “The steward should review this first, aye?”
Baird nodded, watching her more closely than the papers. “Aye.”
She proceeded to set that one aside, then swiftly divided the others: council matters, clan matters and trade matters.
Baird’s shoulders eased inch by inch as the chaos diminished under her hands.
When she hesitated over a torn, mud-stained notice, he leaned in, close enough that she felt the warmth of his presence.
“That one is urgent,” he told her, reaching beside her. “Keep it.”
She did. Their hands brushed, but neither commented on it.
Within twenty minutes, the mountain of correspondence had transformed into a clear order, starting from urgent, to pending and finally to irrelevant. Baird stared at the final arrangement as though she had performed sorcery.
“Saints,” he muttered. “I’ve been fighting with that heap fer days.”
Davina smiled. “Sometimes, all ye need is a different pair of hands and eyes.”
A slow exhale left him as he watched her. She did not expect him to thank her, so she was surprised he did.
“Thank ye, Davina,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I suppose now I have fewer excuses.”
She tilted her head playfully. “Excuses?”
“Fer nae signing yer request,” he confessed. He reached for the paper atop the nearest pile. “And fer delaying the trip.”
Davina steadied her breath as he dipped his pen and scrawled his signature across the bottom of the page with decisive strokes. When he set the pen down, he met her gaze.
“Shall we go, then?”
A warmth fluttered through her chest. “Aye. I shall only be a minute,” she added quickly, heading toward the door, where she stopped in the doorway. “Wait fer me outside?”
He smiled and only nodded. That smile made her blush, so she hastily disappeared before he noticed it. Although she knew that he noticed everything.