“Yes?”
“I am meant tae be thinking.”
“That is precisely why ye should nae,” she replied.
The tune slowed and deepened. Her playing grew more intimate, shaped for him alone, each note placed with care. His breathing evened. One hand lifted slightly, brushing the edge of her skirt. It was not grasping, only resting there as if to reassure himself she was real. She leaned closer as she played, the melody winding around them like a promise neither dared speak aloud.
Then, Baird opened his eyes. For a moment he remained as he was, staring up at the ceiling, as though uncertain whether to disturb the peace she had woven around him. Then he turned his head. Slowly, he pushed himself upright, sitting on the blanket with one knee drawn close.
Davina kept playing. She felt his gaze before she truly saw it. She felt it like warmth along her skin. When she looked up, theireyes met. The world narrowed to that one moment. Sunlight caught in his gray eyes, turning them almost silver. There was no restlessness there now, no guarded distance. Only focused attention, as though she were the only thing in the room worth seeing.
She did not stop.
The harp sang softly between them, each note lingering just long enough to make the silence feel deliberate rather than empty. Her fingers trembled from the awareness of being seen so completely.
Baird did not speak. He simply watched her. The way he looked at her made her breath hitch, though she kept the melody flowing, slower now and even deeper, as though her hands were answering something unspoken in his gaze.
His hand lifted, hovering near the harp. He was not touching the strings, only resting against the wood beside them, but he was still close enough to feel the vibration of the music through his palm. She let the final note fade naturally, allowing it to dissolve into the quiet. Still, neither of them moved.
“Ye play,” he confessed, “as though ye ken exactly what a man needs.”
Her throat tightened. “Perhaps I ken whatyeneed.”
He reached out then, brushing his thumb along the back of her hand where it rested on the strings. The contact was feather-light, yet it sent warmth spiraling through her. His thumb lingered against her hand, as though he had forgotten the rest of the world entirely.
“Davina…” he began, but the words somehow got lost.
“Yes?” she whispered.
He drew a breath, searching her face as though the words he meant to say required courage he was not accustomed to spending. But that was the moment when someone aggressively knocked on the door.
“Me laird?” Kenny’s voice rang from the outside.
“Come in,” Baird called out, and the magic of the moment was gone.
Kenny rushed into the solar without ceremony. The abruptness of it shattered the quiet like glass struck too hard. Davina’s fingers stilled on the harp strings.
Baird rose to his feet. “When did ye get back?”
“Just now,” Kenny said.
Baird’s posture shifted instantly. The ease was gone, with command snapping back into place. “What is it?”
Kenny’s gaze flicked briefly tae Davina, then back tae Baird. “Ye need tae come downstairs. Now.”
The tone was enough, and all three headed downstairs.
The smell struck him first.
Blood. Sweat. Iron. Wet wool.
The hall was crowded with men pressed close, murmuring in low, unsettled tones, but the center lay starkly clear. One body had been laid out upon a table hastily cleared for the purpose, and a cloak was drawn over the man’s chest but not his face. He was young. His eyes stared sightlessly toward the rafters.
Baird stopped short.
The shipment had come, but it had not come clean. His gaze moved, cataloguing damage the way battle had taught him to do. Two more men lay near the hearth. Both were alive, but barely. One groaned softly as a healer worked at his leg, where blood had soaked through bandages already darkened and reapplied. The other was silent and too still.
Baird felt the tension in his muscles. Kenny came up beside him. “We lost one on the road. Two others took blades meant tae slow them, nae tae kill them outright.”
