Page 5 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

Emily laughed. “I doubt anyone will hear us. Everyone is pished.”

Skye’s eyes widened. “Emily!”

Her sister-in-law rarely spoke so bluntly and out of turn, but she had her moments, saving them for when she was with Skye or Freya.

“It is true.”

“That doesnae mean we should speak so plainly,” Skye whispered, though her mouth curved despite herself.

“Forgive me. I forget meself sometimes when it’s only us.” Emily reached for her cup, taking a small sip before setting it backdown. “Besides, I only meant to encourage ye. Whatever ye decide for the ending, yer readers will love it. They always do.”

“That’s nae the comfort ye think it is. The more they love it, the more pressure I feel to get it right.”

“Then write what feels true to ye, and let the rest of the Highlands form their own opinions,” Emily suggested. “I was surprised when ye told me that Freya published the stories when she discovered them in yer room, but it’s quite the compelling tale!”

Skye considered that, turning her cup slowly between her palms. “Freya really liked me idea for the kidnapping. She said it would make people talk even more than before.”

“She wasnae wrong.”

“Nay, she wasnae. But now every time I sit down to write, I think of a dozen ways it might go, and none of them feel right.”

“Perhaps ye’re thinking too hard about it.”

“Perhaps.” Skye glanced toward the hall, the noise and warmth of the gathering pressing in around her. “Or perhaps I simply need to stop thinking of him as a character I invented and start thinking of him as someone who might actually answer for himself, if given the chance.”

Emily raised an eyebrow at that, clearly sensing more behind the words, but said nothing further as the room suddenly fell silent around them.

Skye gazed around the room. It wasn’tentirelywrong. Some were indulging in their drinks, enjoying the celebration. Her family was not among them.

“When ye decide, ye ken where to find me.”

Skye laughed softly. “Aye.”

A series of gasps rippled through the room, and she scrunched up her nose in confusion.

“Why is everyone making such a fuss?”

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but the conversation died mid-sentence before Skye even saw the cause of it.

A laird, half his face hidden behind black leather, stepped into the room, chin raised, shoulders squared.

Whispers rose the instant the silence broke.

“He dares show his face after what he did to that poor lass?”

“Do ye think he’s looking for another bride?”

“After he killed the first one?”

The whispers continued, growing more unhinged by the second. Everyone seemed to want to outdo each other with the rumors they were willing to spread right in front of the man.

Skye was aghast, ashamed to have these people in her home. No one deserved to be treated in such a manner. Rumors were not a reason to talk so blatantly in front of anyone.

The man said nothing. He merely stood there, coolly observing the room, but there was no way he hadn’t heard.

“Nothing was ever proven,” Skye said, sharper than she meant to. The words surprised even her. She hadn’t expected such ferocity from herself.

She detested rumors. They were created by people who had nothing better to do. Nothing of themselves to be proud of, so they tried to bring down everyone else.