Page 64 of The Laird’s Sinful Secret

“And yet...” His hand lifted, tracing her cheekbone with devastating gentleness. “I find I dinnae care as much as I should.”

Moyra’s heart hammered so hard she could feel it in her fingertips. This was dangerous—everything about this moment, this man, these feelings she couldn’t quite name. She should step back. Should remember all the reasons falling for Euan MacLeod was the worst possible idea.

Instead, she leaned into his touch and whispered, “Then maybe we should go. Before ye dae something we’ll both regret.”

The walk back to Dunvegan passed in charged silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the fair behind them and the crunch of their footsteps on the path. Euan’s hand found hers again, his grip firm and warm and comforting.

When they reached the castle gates, he didn’t release her. Instead, he pulled her into the shadows beside the entrance, away from curious eyes.

“Moyra—”

“Dinnae.” She pressed her fingers to his lips, stopping whatever he was about to say. “Nae yet. I’m nae—I cannae think clearly when ye look at me like that.”

“Like what?” But his mouth curved beneath her fingers.

“Like I’m something precious instead of problematic. Like ye actually want me here instead of just tolerating me presence fer political advantage.”

His hand covered hers, pulling her fingers from his lips but not releasing them. “Ye think I’m tolerating ye?”

“I dinnae ken what ye’re daeing.” Frustration and want warred in her chest. “I dinnae ken if this is real or strategy or⁠—”

“It’s real.” The words came fierce, absolute. “Whatever else ye doubt, Moyra MacKenzie, dinnae doubt that. What I feel when I look at ye—that’s nae strategy.”

“I should go.” She forced herself to step back, putting space between them before temptation won. “Before someone sees us and tomorrow’s gossip becomes unbearable.”

“Aye.” But he didn’t look happy about it. “I’ll walk ye.”

“There’s nay need.”

“I insist.”

Before courage failed her completely, they were hurrying through the castle corridors. Her heart raced from his proximity, her lips tingling from where his thumb had traced them. Her entire body hummed with want she couldn’t quite acknowledge.

When they reached her chamber door, Euan didn’t release her hand. Instead, he glanced down the empty corridor, then back to her face with an intensity that made her breath catch.

“We need to talk,” he said quietly. “Now. Before ye go tae sleep with all those doubts spinning in yer head.”

Moyra’s heart hammered against her ribs. “Euan, it’s late⁠—”

“I dinnae care.” His grip on her hand tightened, not painfully, but insistent. “Ye said ye cannae think clearly when I look at ye like this. Well, I need ye thinking clearly, Moyra. I need tae talk tae ye and it cannae wait.”

She swallowed hard, every instinct screaming at her to retreat into the safety of her chamber, to put a door between herself and those dangerous feelings. But something in his expression kept her rooted in place.

“All right,” she whispered. “Then talk.”