Page 94 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

“It isnae simple at all,” Freya said, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye. “But it will be, eventually. I promise ye that much, even if I cannae promise ye anything else tonight.”

“We’ll go back home tomorrow morning,” Skye whispered, even if it killed her to say such a thing. Her heart continued to break in a million pieces, something she didn’t think was possible.

Freya did not leave her for quite some time that night. She insisted on sitting with her, wanting to comfort her as much as she could.

But Skye knew her sister was getting exhausted. She could see it in the droop of her eyes and the slump of her shoulders.

“Ye should sleep, Freya. Ye’ve been fretting over me for hours now.”

“I’m nae fretting.” Freya’s eyes were already at half-mast. “I’m… strategizing.”

“Strategizing.”

“Aye, for when I get me hands on that man, should he break yer heart worse than he already did.”

“Ye can strategize in the morning.”

“Nay, I must plan now while it’s fresh.” Freya pressed her fingers to her temple. “First, I’ll tell him exactly what I think of him. Then, perhaps I’ll…” Her head dipped. “I’ll… Where was I?”

“Threatening a laird, apparently.”

“Aye, that.” Freya blinked slowly, fighting to keep her eyes open. “He’d better nae have meant it, Skye. I mean it. After everything ye’ve already…” Her head dipped again, her chin nearly touching her chest.

“Freya.”

Nothing.

“Freya, ye cannae plot a man’s downfall and fall asleep in the same breath. That’s nae how vengeance works. That’s?—”

Freya jerked upright with a startled snort, blinking hard, one hand flying up to swipe at her mouth as though checking she hadn’t been drooling.

“I wasnae asleep.”

“Ye were entirely asleep.”

“I was resting me eyes whilst thinking very seriously about vengeance.” She pushed to her feet, swaying only slightly, then smoothed down her skirts with as much dignity as she could muster. “And now that I’ve considered it thoroughly, I believe I shall go to bed, where I can strategize lying down.”

“That’s just sleeping, Freya.”

“It’s strategic sleeping.” She said, barely stifling a yawn. “Daenae let me sleep past the sun. I have a laird to intimidate tomorrow morning.”

“Goodnight, Freya.”

“Goodnight.” She paused at the door, yawning. “It’ll be all right, Skye, whatever happens. Ye ken that, aye?”

Skye managed a small smile. “I ken it.”

Freya held her gaze a moment longer, as if checking whether she believed it, then nodded and slipped out, leaving her alone with the dying fire and her tangled thoughts.

Out of the corner of her eye, Skye saw the pages on her desk. The new chapters were waiting to be published.

She picked them up and walked towards the hearth. The flames flickered, almost beckoning to her. It would be so easy to toss the pages into the fire, to wipe the slate clean. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. So she turned around and went to her bed, tucking them under her pillow.

At this point, she didn’t know if she was going to let anyone read them. They had been written during a time when she thought something was true and it wasn’t.

34

Dougal returned to his study to do anything but think of Skye. To do anything but think of how she had looked at him as he broke her heart.