Page 69 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

“Problem?”

“Aye.” She looked up at him, and there was something in her eyes, something she didn’t have the strength to hide after the day she’d had. “It would be a great deal easier if ye were a terrible man.”

He went very still. “Would it, now?”

“Aye.” A breath of a laugh escaped her, though it trembled at the edges. “I came here meaning only to finish me story. I didnae account for ye or Lily.”

“Skye.” Her name came out rougher than he meant it to, and he reached for her hand before he’d fully decided to, as though he needed the touch to steady something in him as much as her. “I didnae account for ye, either. Ye must believe that.”

They stood like that for a long moment, the fire crackling softly behind them, neither quite brave enough to close the last inch between them, nor willing to be the one who stepped back first.

“Goodnight, Dougal,” Skye said, though she made no move to leave.

“Goodnight, Skye.” He didn’t let go of her hand. “Sleep well. And lock yer door.”

“Are ye afraid for me or of me?” she teased.

“Both,” he said, and finally released her, though his eyes followed her the whole way to the door.

She left him there by the dying fire. It took everything in her not to turn around and say something to him. To run into his arms.

She kept walking, refusing to look back. If she did, then she wouldn’t make it to her bedroom. Of that, she was sure. When it came to Dougal, it was difficult to control herself.

The story. Shehadto finish the story.

That was why she had come here. That was why she had agreed to Dougal’s terms. She would help restore his reputation, and he would give her a proper ending to her story. Nothing more. That was all there was to it.

So why did she need to keep telling herself that?

She repeated it to herself with every step up the stairs, a quiet litany meant to steady her racing pulse, though it did little good. It never did, not anymore.

Somewhere between the cèilidh and tonight, the bargain had stopped feeling like a bargain at all, and she wasn’t certain she wanted to examine what it had become.

24

Dougal was consumed by thoughts of Angus and the threat looming over them.

The man now knew about the one piece of Elsie that remained, and Dougal feared what he might do to get his hands on her.

If it meant war, then so be it. He would wage war on Angus if it meant keeping Lily safe. He’d even send her far away with his mother, ensuring that Angus could never find them.

Stephen knocked on the door to his study not long after the sun had risen over the hills. The grim expression on his face told Dougal everything.

They needed to discuss strategy. He could not put it off. Doing so would risk not only Lily’s safety, but also Skye’s.

He bit back a growl at the thought of the finger-shaped bruise on Skye’s arm. It stood out against her pale skin, a reminder of how he had failed to react quickly.

She was under his protection as long as she stayed in his castle. He had promised her brother that he would keep her safe, and yet she had gotten hurt when he was but a few feet away.

She had kept insisting that she was fine. Every time he asked her, she told him it was nothing but a bruise. He had gone so far as asking his mother, but she only confirmed what Skye had told him—that she was fine.

“Ye have every reason to fuss over the lass, but she’s all right, son,” Kenna had insisted. “Trust that she has told ye the truth.”

Dougal had wanted to believe her, but the image of the guard reaching out his hand and grabbing Skye’s arm haunted him. The man had gotten too close too fast, and Dougal hadn’t thought before he acted. He could have sworn he saw fear flash across her face before she had masked it.

“Ye’re certain,” he had said, though his mother had already answered the question twice. She looked to be growing tired of his questions.

Kenna had set down her needlework with a patient sigh. “Dougal Grant, I have looked at that lass meself. I have asked her plainly, more than once, and each time she has told me the same thing—a bruise, nothing more. Ye must learn to trust what ye’re told, or ye’ll drive yerself mad, and her along with ye.”