Page 55 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

She wanted tae come tae the market. Wanted tae feel useful instead of trapped. Maybe I should have let her enjoy the day with me.

The thought stirred something uncomfortable in his chest. He'd been harsh with her, had used his authority to keep her confined like a prisoner. She may not have liked it, but he had done it for her safety.

"Those honey pastries," he found himself saying to the baker, a plump woman with flour-dusted hands. "Are they fresh?"

"Made this morning, me laird. Still warm from the oven." She beamed at him. "How many would ye like?"

Just one. A small gesture.

"Give me five, please."

The baker wrapped the pastry carefully in clean cloth, her movements gentle as if she understood this was more than a simple purchase. "Sweet things fer a sweet lass, I'm guessin'?"

Heat crept up Ruaridh's neck, but he nodded. "Somethin’ like that."

He tucked the wrapped pastry into his saddlebag next to the spices, taking care not to crush it. The gesture felt both foolish and significant—a peace offering wrapped in honey and memories.

With his purchases complete, Ruaridh mounted his horse and turned toward home. The suspicious men he'd noticed earlier had disappeared into the crowd, and no obvious threats had materialized. But he didn't relax his vigilance until the familiar towers of Castle MacDuff came into view.

The ride back passed without incident, his horse eager for the warmth of its stall and the promise of oats. Behind him, the carefully wrapped pastry bounced gently in his saddlebag—a small token of remembrance for the woman waiting within those stone walls.

Be careful.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd found a way to show her that he was taking care of more than just clan business.