Page 59 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

A small, reluctant smile curved her lips. “That ye are.”

Lily’s voice carried faintly from the corridor, calling for Blossom, and the moment shifted, softened, neither of them quite ready to release the other’s hand just yet, breakfast growing cold and forgotten between them.

Dougal pulled away before Lily and his mother came in. But he was, once again, in a good mood.

Everyone was aware of his good mood, apparently. Lily was the one to point it out this time, earning a small smile from Kenna, but he did shoot his mother a look to drop it. Thankfully, she did.

His thoughts drifted back to Skye's hand beneath his, to the way she'd looked at him as though searching for a trick and findingnone. Whatever this was between them, it was growing harder to name it only an arrangement.

A month. Well, less than a month.

In a few weeks, Skye would finish writing her story, and his reputation would be restored. Some people would stubbornly cling to their opinions of him, but he had learned long ago that he could not change everyone’s opinion.

All he could do was keep moving forward.

21

The days blurred together in a way Skye hadn’t expected. She found herself waking earlier, dressing more quickly, always with half a thought toward finding Lily before the girl went looking for her first.

Lily was precious. Skye was starting to see why Dougal was so protective of the girl, but a part of her hated how she wasn’t able to explore more of the castle grounds.

She decided to try her luck today, pleading her case to Dougal, her voice reaching levels of frustration she did not think herself capable of. Just when she thought he would tell her no and demand she leave, he laughed.

“All right, lass. Ye can take her out to the gardens, provided a guard goes with ye.”

“I accept,” she declared, lifting her chin in defiance.

“Skye! Skye, come quick!” Lily’s voice carried down the corridor that morning, breathless with excitement. “Blossom caught a moth. A whole moth, all by herself!”

Skye’s attention was wrenched away from Dougal and back to the precious girl she was growing very fond of.

“Did she now?” She let herself be dragged along by the small hand in hers. “And what did Blossom do with the moth once she’d caught it?”

“She let it go,” Lily said this with great seriousness, as though reporting a decision of considerable diplomatic weight. “I told her she should. Moths daenae do any harm. They arenae pretty like butterflies, but they cannae hurt her.”

Skye smiled sweetly. “That was very kind of her.”

“Aye, she’s a kind kitten. Mostly.” Lily considered this. “Except when she scratches. Then she’s nae very kind at all. But she only scratches whenever I pet her too much or poke her belly.”

Skye laughed, and Lily beamed up at her, clearly pleased with herself.

It was impossible to be in a dark mood when Lily was around. Even when she and Dougal were at odds, spending time with Lily always managed to lift her spirits.

They spent the better part of the morning in the gardens, Lily narrating an elaborate story about the goat’s supposed rivalry with a family of hedgehogs that lived beneath the hedge. The tale grew more fantastical with every retelling.

Skye was beginning to think that Lily might grow to be a brilliant writer if her gift for storytelling was nurtured properly.

“And then the goat said…” Lily paused. “Goats cannae talk, can they?”

“I daenae believe so, sweetling. But it’s yer story, so we can pretend the goat talks.”

“Pity. He’d have a great deal to say, I think.” Lily flopped down onto the grass, unconcerned with the state of her skirts. “Skye, will ye braid flowers into me hair? Grandmaither kens how, but she’s busy with her needlework today, and she complains that her hands shake too much.”

“I can try, but I cannae promise it’ll be as fine as yer grandmaither’s work,” Skye warned.

“I daenae mind. I only want the flowers.”

Lily sat very still while Skye worked. She had come to recognize that stillness as the girl’s version of deep concentration.