Davina spluttered. “I didnaeforget?—”
“Good,” he said amusedly.
“Ye,” she muttered, glaring up at him, “are impossible.”
He smiled outright this time. He couldn’t help it. “Aye. And ye married me.”
She looked as though she wanted to argue that point as well, but instead she pressed her lips together and lifted her chin. “Let’s go on this tour, then.”
Baird offered his arm. “As me lady commands.”
She hesitated only a fraction before slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. It was a touch too light, as though she feared leaning too much on him, but it was enough.
More than enough.
The corridors of Kincaid Castle stretched warmly before them, lit by torches that cast soft gold against stone. Davina tried to focus on the architecture, on the tapestries, onanythingthat wasn’t the man at her side, who also seemed far too aware of her presence.
Baird kept their pace unhurried, as though he meant to give her room to breathe. Which would have been a kindness if the closeness of his body didn’t make breathing its own challenge.
He glanced down at her. “Tell me, Davina… what is it ye enjoy? Music? Stitching? Books?”
She blinked at him, surprised he cared to ask.
“I enjoy music very much,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “Me maither taught me tae play the harp and the clàrsach. And I’ve always found comfort in gardening, in helping things grow.”
Baird hummed thoughtfully, turning down a quieter passage. “Music and gardens.” A small, sly smile tugged at his mouth. “I should have kent ye’d favor something stubborn. Plants dae as they please, nay matter how ye coax them.”
She gave him a quick, affronted look. “Are ye suggesting I’m stubborn?”
“I’m nae suggesting anything,” he pointed out with a flicker of playfulness. “I’m saying it plainly.”
Davina narrowed her eyes. “Ye truly are impossible.”
“That seems tae be yer favorite word fer me taenight,” he said mildly. “Should I take it as endearment?”
She nearly tripped over her own feet. “Absolutely nae.”
His quiet laugh echoed warmly through the hall. Before she could come up with a sharper retort, he paused before a large wooden door and pushed it open.
“This,” he said, guiding her through, “is the solar. The warmest room in the keep.”
Davina stepped in and the moment she did so, her breath caught at the sight. The solar was bathed in the soft glow of candles. A hearth crackled beside a row of cushioned benches, and the windows were draped with soft woolen hangings that gave the room a gentler feel than any she’d seen yet.
And there, nestled right in the center, was a harp. It was a most beautiful instrument, tall with polished oak and strings that gleamed like spun gold.
She touched the frame lightly, feeling the warmth of the wood under her fingers. “It’s lovely,” she whispered.
Baird watched her with an expression she couldn’t read. “It belonged tae me maither,” he said quietly. “She played often. She said music made the walls less cold.”
Davina’s heart tightened. “May I?”
“Aye,” he said. “I brought ye here so ye could.”
She seated herself and let her fingers glide over the strings. The first notes were soft and hesitant, but then they became fuller and clearer, as she fell into the rhythm. She played a simple melody her mother used to hum in the mornings. The sound filled the room, tender and fragile, and she forgot for a momentthat she was not in her own home but in a stranger’s fortress, a stranger who was now her husband.
“Ye play beautifully,” he said when the last note faded.
Davina looked up sharply. She hadn’t realized how close he’d stepped. He was now standing just behind her shoulder, with one hand braced against the harp’s pillar as though drawn unconsciously nearer.
