Chapter 16
Baird still wasn’t entirely sure how Davina had managed it.
He walked beside her down the winding road toward the market square, with the guards trailing a few steps behind. The early sun glinted off the rooftops, warming the cobbles underfoot, and Davina’s elegant yet quick stride matched his own without effort.
He couldn’t believe she’d convinced him to leave his post, his maps, and three urgent letters awaiting his seal.
But then again… it was his own fault.
He’d wanted to go with her the moment she’d said she needed the supplies. He wanted to walk at her side and to see that spark in her eyes when she found exactly what she needed for the garden. He had wanted to go with her long before she’d given him no choice at all.
They reached the edge of the town square as the traders were setting up their morning stalls. The scent of fresh oatcakes drifted in the air, mingling with peat smoke and the sharp tang of early spring. People glanced up, murmured in surprise, then dipped their heads respectfully.
“Me laird!” several people called.
But more voices called to Davina.
“Lady Kincaid!”
“A fine morning tae ye!”
“Bless ye fer coming!”
She greeted every one of them with that gentle, genuine smile that made her whole face brighten.
She paused to help an old woman steady a basket of wool on her hip.
She knelt to speak to two children tugging at her skirts, asking their names and making them giggle.
She thanked a baker who insisted on pressing a small honey cake into her hand for the lady.
Baird watched her, and each interaction pierced him in equal measure.
She was good. Not in the na?ve, soft way that many assumed gentleness to be, but good in the way that truly mattered.
She was present, kind and attentive. She belonged among those people already, as though she had always been meant to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with them.
His clan responded to her as though they’d been waiting for someone like her for years.
And he… he was her husband only because fate had torn Malcom from that world. A familiar weight pressed against his ribs. He swallowed hard against it.
She laughed at something a child said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The sunlight caught the golden hues, warming them like burning honey. The sight stirred something inside him so fiercely he almost had to look away.
She deserved everything a true marriage offered: affection, closeness, the security of knowing she was wanted not out of necessity but choice. Yet every time he felt himself drawn to her, and it was happening more and more, guilt flared like a warning brand.
It should have been Malcolm… Malcolm who walked beside her, Malcolm who the villagers greeted with a smile at her side, Malcolm who would have courted her, cherished her, kissed her without shame or memories of a coffin lowering into the earth.
Instead, it was him.
And the more Davina smiled, the more warmly she spoke to the people, the more naturally she belonged at his side… the sharper the ache grew. He couldn’t let himself take more from her than he already had.
But when Davina turned toward him, holding up a small crate of terracotta pots as though she’d discovered treasure, Baird felt his resolve shake.
“Look!” she said, breathless with delight. “Exactly what I needed. Are they nae perfect?”
He managed a smile. They continued to weave through the bustling market, as Davina drifted from stall to stall with growing enthusiasm. Each vendor seemed more than happy to speak with her, eager to show their goods to the new Lady Kincaid who listened with such genuine interest.
She examined seed packets, knelt to inspect young herbs, and handled bundles of saplings with the care one might give newborn lambs.
At one stall, Davina held up a small cloth pouch. “These are foxglove seeds,” she explained excitedly. “They’ll add height tae the edges of the garden, and the bees adore them.”
Before he could respond, she darted to another table, lifting a pot of trailing ivy. “And these… look how lively they are! They could trail over the stone wall beautifully.”
Her delight was contagious. People turned to smile simply because she was smiling. Baird found himself smiling too, despite the heavy things pressing on his mind.
Davina approached him with an armful of items. He saw seeds, bulbs, and a delicate little rose cutting wrapped in damp cloth.
“I ken exactly where this one will go,” she said with eyes that were gleaming. “Near the fountain. It will climb the trellis once it’s strong enough.”
He raised a brow. “A trellis we dinnae have yet?”
“We will,” she said confidently. “The woodworkers said they could craft something light and simple. I have it all planned.”
He nodded, utterly amused. “So, ye dae.”
They moved on, and she paused at another vendor selling small shrubs. Davina knelt to touch the soil around a lavender plant, inhaling as she rubbed the leaves between her fingers.
“Oh,” she breathed in almost reverently. “This smells like me maither’s garden.”
Baird didn’t know what stunned him more, the softness in her voice, or the way her smile gentled at the memory.
The lavender vendor grinned and tossed two extra seedlings into her basket for the lady’s happiness.
Davina laughed and the sound wrapped itself around Baird, warming places inside him that had been cold for very long.
At last, when she had collected not only the essentials but several items he strongly suspected she’d chosen simply because she couldn’t resist them, Davina turned toward him.
“Well?” she asked slightly breathlessly. “What dae ye think?”
He watched her so bright-eyed and radiant, with her arms full of the future she wanted to build in the long-neglected garden. Her delight made her glow.
“I was asking meself the same thing,” he said, clearing his throat. “But now I’m the one seeking answers. What is yer plan fer this garden?”
Her eyes widened with enthusiasm.
“Oh! I have so many ideas.” She shifted the basket in her arms and launched eagerly into her vision.
“I want tae start by clearing the weeds properly. Every root needs tae be pulled up so it daesnae return. Then, I’ll plant the taller flowers toward the back, beside the wall: foxgloves, lupins, delphiniums. The middle will be filled with herbs like lavender, rosemary, sage.
And near the path, smaller, soft things like violets and chamomile. ”
Her hands moved as she spoke, painting pictures in the air, living diagrams of color and scent and sunlight.
“And the rose cutting,” she added with a quiet smile, “that will climb the trellis near the fountain. A splash of pink among the stone.”
Baird found himself mesmerized not by the plants, but by her, by the way her voice danced as the fire of creation took hold of her. Her delight was beautiful, and it was dangerous.
He swallowed, and words caught in his throat before finally emerging rough-edged and honest.
“I cannae wait tae see it.”
Davina shifted her basket in her arms as her eyes roamed over the lively square with its vendors calling out prices and children weaving between barrels. The breeze lifted her hair, brushing a golden strand across her cheek.
“I love coming intae town,” she confessed. “There’s… life here. So much of it. I could wander these stalls fer hours.”
Baird glanced sideways at her, surprised by how deeply the admission warmed him. “If ye enjoy it, lass, then come as often as ye please.”
She looked up at him. “Truly?”
“Aye.” He held her gaze, letting the sincerity settle there. “Ye’re free tae go wherever ye like, Davina. So long as ye always come back.”
Her lips parted and a faint flush rose to her cheeks. Then, before she could say anything, the sky cracked open with a rolling growl. That was followed by a sudden Highland downpour, harsh and utterly merciless.
Davina gasped as the first sheet of rain slapped across the square. “Oh! That—”
“We need tae get inside!” Baird said, grabbing her hand instinctively.
She seized his fingers without hesitation, clutching her basket to her chest as he dragged her into a full sprint across the cobblestones. Rain hammered them from all sides, soaking them to the bone in seconds, while turning the square into a blur of gray and silver.
Davina’s laughter rang out, bubbling up between her startled squeals.
“Oh heavens, it’s freezing!” she cried, nearly tripping as the water splashed up her skirts.
“Then keep moving!” Baird shouted over the downpour, tightening his grip on her hand.
They sprinted across puddles forming faster than they could dodge them. Davina’s braid came half-loose, as her golden strands whipped behind her while she ran. Her basket thumped wildly with each stride, nearly slipping from her arm.
“Wasnae the tavern nae closer?” she shrieked between laughs.
“It was before ye stopped tae admire every plant in the damned market!” he shot back.
She laughed harder. In fact, she laughed so hard she nearly stumbled again, and Baird steadied her with an arm around her waist before pulling her forward once more. They barreled through the tavern door just as a fresh wave of rain crashed behind them like a waterfall. Inside, the room erupted.
“Saints alive!”
“Quick, bring towels!”
Davina stood dripping on the wooden floor, with water streaming from her hair, her lashes, her sleeves. Every inch of her was soaked. She looked down at herself and burst into another fit of laughter, breathless and glowing.
“Oh dear,” she managed, trying to catch her breath. “I must look ridiculous.”
Baird pushed wet hair off his forehead, and droplets were flinging everywhere.
“Ridiculous?” His voice cracked into a surprised laugh. “Lass, ye look like a half-drowned duck.”
Her jaw dropped in mock outrage. “A duck?”
“A very bonny duck,” he amended quickly, fighting a grin.
She swatted at his arm, sending another spray of water in all directions. “And ye look like a kelpie dragged straight from the loch!”
The tavern roared with laughter.
Davina’s cheeks flushed pink beneath the wet strands clinging to her face, but her smile remained unembarrassed. The fire’s glow caught her eyes, turning them warm and soft, and Baird felt that same, undesirable sensation take hold of him once more.
“Come,” he murmured, guiding her toward the hearth, with his hand gentle at her back. “Before ye freeze solid.”
They settled near the blaze. Davina wrung out her soaked sleeve with a mortified gasp, sending water dripping onto the stone floor.
“Oh heavens,” she whispered. “We’re a spectacle.”
He could only smile at that. Outside, the storm raged. Inside, warmth and laughter wrapped around them like a shared secret. And it occurred to Baird that he could run through a hundred storms with her and never tire of it.