Calmly.
The only reason he had slept calmly was because she was there, because her presence quieted the nightmare he’d never once spoken aloud. But calm sleep was something he didn’t deserve. Not when Maither’s face still haunted the dark, and not when Malcolm’s death hung like iron around his neck.
And certainly not because of a comfort he had no right to take from Davina.
He swung his legs off the bed abruptly. “We should leave.”
Davina seemed startled by the sudden shift, and there was confusion flickering across her face. “Oh, I… yes, of course.”
He stood and began gathering their things too sharply. He needed anything to keep his hands busy or to avoid the warmth in her eyes. His mood had soured like milk left too long, and he knew it, but he couldn’t tame it.
“Baird?” she tried again, softer this time. “Did I… say something wrong?”
“Nay.” His tone came out colder than he intended. “We dinnae have the luxury of lingering. We need tae be heading home.”
She looked at him for a moment that felt longer than eternity. Her lips were pressed together in a way that hinted at hurt. But she said nothing more. She simply gathered her own things with quiet, careful movements.
Her silence made something twist inside him. But he hardened himself. Better she think him distant than look too closely at a man who usually slept sweating and shaking because of ghosts she didn’t know about.
When they stepped out of the room and into the tavern hallway, Davina followed him without complaint, though her steps were slower. This time, she didn’t even try to keep up with him. Baird forced himself not to look back.
Distance is safer.
Outside the tavern, puddles pooled between the cobblestones, and villagers hurried about, with their voices rising in distress. The moment they spotted Baird, a cluster of townsfolk rushed toward him.
“Me laird!” one of the older men called. “The storm flooded the east store!”
“Aye,” another added anxiously. “We’re trying tae move what we can, but the barrels are soaked through and we cannae lift them fast enough.”
“Some of the sacks have burst,” a woman said, wringing her apron. “We’re losing grain.”
Baird’s jaw clenched. Of all the catastrophes they couldn’t afford, this was among the worst.
“I’ll go now,” he said, already signaling to his guards. “Where are the stores that still stand dry?”
“North side of the square,” the villager replied. “We’ve been carrying what we can, but it’s nae enough.”
Baird nodded sharply, then turned to Davina.
“I’ll organize fer ye tae go back tae the castle with Davis and Ewan,” he said. “I’ll take the rest of the men and deal with this here.”
Davina’s eyes widened first in surprise, then in defiance. “Nay.”
His head snapped toward her, and even the guards seemed to shift uneasily at her refusal. “Nay?”
“I’m nae going back,” she said plainly.
“Ye are.” His voice hardened, partly from worry, partly from the lingering frustration of the morning.
She stepped closer. It seemed that every time he looked into those beautiful eyes, he found more reasons to be furious… with fate, with her, withhimself.
“Me place,” she said steadily, “is by me husband’s side.”
Her voice was soft, but it hit him like a blow. The villagers glanced between them, looking awkward and uncertain.
Baird opened his mouth, then closed it. What argument could he give to that? What right did he have to command her away when she had just claimed allegiance to him in the one way that stripped all resistance?
He searched that lovely, defiant face of hers. She wasn’t being reckless or dramatic for the sake of making a scene. That was unlike her. She was simply choosing him, choosing to stand with him. In all honesty, he wasn’t certain whether that filled him with pride or terror.
