“Off with the gown, me lady,” Ailis said kindly. “I’ll make sure it is seen tae.”
Davina hesitated, then nodded. The fabric slipped away like the weight of the day itself. When she finally stepped into the bath, the warmth nearly undid her. She let out a sound between a sigh and a sob.
“There now,” Ailis murmured, setting a cup beside the tub. “Drink this. It’s chamomile and mint. It’s supposed tae calm the heart.”
Davina took the cup with trembling hands. The tea was sweet, and it steadied her breath. For the first time since the morning, her thoughts slowed.
Ailis sat nearby, folding a cloth with deft fingers. “It’s a cruel thing, what happened,” she said softly. “Nay one should have tae stand through a wedding and a death in the same breath.”
Davina swallowed. “I can hardly make sense of it. He was alive one moment… gone the next.”
Ailis nodded, with eyes full of quiet understanding. “The healer’s looking intae it, but what’s done is done. All ye can dae now is take care of yerself.”
“I’m nae certain how,” Davina admitted. “I scarcely ken who I am anymore.”
“Ye’re Lady Kincaid,” Ailis said simply. “And from what I’ve seen already, a braver lady than most.”
Davina’s throat tightened. “Ye’re kind tae say so.”
“I only say the truth, me lady.”
They shared a small, tentative smile. The sound of the fire crackling filled the silence that followed. It was gentle and comforting. When Davina finally rose from the bath, her skin was flushed from the heat and her mind felt clearer. She found clean garments laid out beside the bed: a soft wool gown in deep blue, a shawl to match, and a comb resting beside the mirror.
“Did the laird ask ye tae bring these as well?” she asked, running her fingers over the fabric.
Ailis smiled faintly. “He did. He said ye should have something warm and proper fer the feast.”
Davina paused, taken aback again. She had thought him cold, all iron and command, but perhaps beneath that armor there was some consideration.
“Thank ye, Ailis,” she said softly.
“Rest a bit before ye go down,” the maid advised, gathering the used linens. “And if ye need anything, just call fer me.”
When she was gone, Davina sat down by the fire, with a tea cup in hand and the scent of lavender still hanging in the air. The shock of the day lingered, but the warmth in the room, which was the result of his small, unexpected gesture, softened its edge.
Maybe Baird Kincaid wasn’t heartless after all.
CHAPTER FOUR
“This is madness, me laird!”
The words struck the air before Baird had even crossed the threshold of the council chamber. Five men stood waiting around the long oak table, their faces drawn tight with outrage and disbelief.
“Aye,” another said, pounding a fist against the arm of his chair. “Marrying a lass who’s nae even highborn enough tae hold a seat at this table? The Kincaids will be a jest in every hall from here tae the Isles!”
Baird closed the door behind him with deliberate calm. The sound of it latching was sharp enough to still the room. He strode to the head of the table, resting both hands flat upon the worn surface.
“Ye’ve all had yer say,” he said quietly. “Now ye’ll listen tae reason.”
The silence that followed was heavy.
“What would ye have preferred?” Baird asked, eyeing each man in turn. “That I leave the lass widowed before she’d even wed? That I shame her kin in front of half of the Highlands, dishonor an agreement me braither swore tae uphold? That our own clan come out of this, looking fearful and on the brink of destruction? Nay.”
One of the elders shifted uncomfortably. “With respect, me laird, she’s nae a laird’s daughter. A Fletcher’s niece at best, and hardly fit tae rule beside ye.”
Baird’s voice sharpened. “Fit enough tae save ye from hunger.”
That silenced them for a sharp breath. He straightened, and as he continued, his tone hardened to steel. “Ye ken well our coffers are near empty. The Sinclairs cut off the western routes two months past, and there’s nay trader fool enough tae risk their blades. Our stores of wheat will barely see us through the next month, never mind winter.”
