Page 71 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

“Aye, ye do that.” He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, entirely too pleased with himself. “Though I’d wager ye’ll get less done tonight staring at that map than ye think, seeing as half yer mind’s already elsewhere.”

“Ye ken nothing of where me mind is.”

“Do I nae?” Stephen grinned. “Ye’ve read the same line on that border three times already, and I’ve been counting.”

Dougal glared at him. “Go to bed, Stephen.”

“Aye, I will. Sleep well, me Laird.” Stephen tapped the doorframe once, still grinning. “Give me regards to whatever, or whoever, keeps ye up tonight.”

“Out.”

Stephen spun around and left, leaving Dougal to his conflicted thoughts. He needed to strategize, but now all he could think about was Skye and how he wanted her to stay.

His man-at-arms had said exactly what he had been trying not to think about, but now that it was out, it was impossible to forget.

Growling, Dougal slammed his fist against the desk, the wood wobbling underneath. It was no stranger to bearing the brunt of his anger. That and the table at the back of the room. Both had suffered worse over the years, dented and scarred from nightswhen sleep wouldn’t come and his temper had nowhere else to go.

He dragged a hand down his face. All he could think about was the deal he had made with Skye.

It was a month. Just a month. A simple bargain that should have been easy to keep, but here he was, considering ending it.

Nothing with Skye had been simple. Not since she had walked into his home.

No, it was before then. Since the moment she had followed him into her brother’s gardens and spoken with him under the tree. From that day, nothing had been simple.

25

That night, Skye dreamed of Dougal.

As they kissed, Dougal’s stubble tickled her face. She had grown to love that feeling and would have happily kept kissing him if he hadn’t stepped back.

“Ah, Skye,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

“Height difference a little awkward?” she asked softly, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“Nae at all, lass.” His large hand cupped the back of her neck, his thumb brushing her jaw with clear possession. “I just… I’m nae a good man.”

“Dougal,” she whispered, “that should be for me to decide.”

“I cannae stay away from ye.” His grip tightened slightly, his eyes dark with hunger and something fiercer. “Ye’ll have to be the one to end this. I daenae have the strength to walk away.”

“I willnae,” she breathed. “I want this… I want ye.”

No more words were needed. Dougal guided her back onto his large, comfortable bed. Clothes were shed and tossed aside. Skye barely noticed where they landed; her attention was entirely on him. There was nowhere else she wanted to look.

Soon, she was leaning back against the plush pillows, her legs spread as Dougal knelt between them. His stubble tickled the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, brushing against her cunt and coaxing a soft groan from her.

“Are ye alright, lass?” he purred, a hungry smirk curving his lips.

“I willnae be if ye stop,” she managed.

He let out a low chuckle. “Then I willnae stop.”

He dove back in, his tongue delving between her folds while his thumb firmly stroked her bud. Her hips jerked, soft moans spilling past her lips as his ministrations grew relentless. He sucked gently on the sensitive bundle of nerves and pushed one thick finger inside her, then two. She clenched around him, her hands flying to her breasts and squeezing them.

“Dougal!” she gasped. “Please… I need ye.”

It was something she had never thought she would ask. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she had never wanted anything as much as she wanted this right now.