Page 9 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

The anger was still there, but now his interest was piqued.

There is more to this lass than meets the eye.

“Ye.”

“I never meant for so many people to read it. I didnae think—” The lass broke off. “Me sister is the one who went behind me back and had it published. She thought it would be good for me, but I never intended for it to be read by the entire Highlands!”

Whether it was the lass’s sister who published the story or not, it was her writing. She had taken the time to write about his life,turning it into a recurring tale the Highlanders couldn’t wait to read.

He should feel nothing but anger, but surprisingly, the anger was hard to find. Anger often required a target and a villain who’d taken something from him. But there was nothing malicious in the way she stood before him, cheeks burning and hands twisting together.

She had written a story, and that was all she viewed it as. Nothing more and nothing less. It was he who was the villain, not the character she had made up.

“Do ye think I am capable of it, then?” His voice sharpened. “Seducing an innocent lass? Touching her”—Dougal stepped closer as his hand slid to the nape of her neck—“like this? Kissing her”—he leaned in, his lips hovering near her throat—“here?”

A tremor ran through her body, barely noticeable, but he was close enough that he felt it right away.

Her breath quickened. “I…”

“Well?” he prompted, his patience thinning.

Her pale cheeks flushed a dark pink, but she did not avert her gaze. She seemed determined to look him in the eyes.

“I was maybe… hoping ye were.”

Dougal hadn’t expected the words to land the way they did.

She wanted his hands on her. She’d said as much, plain as anything, and now he couldn’t look at her mouth without thinking about it.

His gaze dropped, just for a second, to where her pulse fluttered at her throat. He forced it back up. Filed the thought away. Told himself the bargain was still the point. She seemed determined to bring her story to an end, one way or another.

“And how do ye plan to end yer story?”

“I… I daenae ken. That’s why I followed ye out here, if I’m being honest. I thought maybe if I spoke to the real person…” she trailed off.

He pulled back, still gazing at her with that calculated expression. “Then let’s strike a bargain. Help me restore me reputation, and I’ll help ye finish yer story.”

She frowned, but he saw the flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “How?”

“Be mine for a month, lass. Then walk away, alive, well, and with yer finale written.” A faint, bitter smile touched his mouth. “So everyone will see that at least one lass survived me.”

4

The man was mad. He must be to suggest such a thing.

Skye took a step back, gazing at him as if he did not fully understand what he was saying. But she knew deep down that a man like him would not say such a thing unless he meant it. He was a man of few words, and when he spoke, he was careful with what he said.

Unlike her, who often stumbled over her words, saying things she often wished she hadn’t.

The one thing she did not regret was defending him back inside in front of the guests. Her brother would chastise her later when he had the chance, but she was going to stand by what she had done. No one should have acted in such a way towards the man. It was simply rude.

“Ye cannae be serious.”

“I’m being kind,” he said, “by nae telling the Highlands that their beloved storyteller is a well-bred lass who shouldnae be having such thoughts, let alone writing them down for coin.”

Skye lifted her hand to her mouth.

She had misjudged the man. He was a scoundrel after all, but one of a different kind! One who used secrets to get what he wanted. She had come out here in good faith, wanting to tell him that she was responsible for the story. It felt like the right thing to do after causing everyone to stare blatantly at him, whispering right to his face and caring little for how that might affect him.