Page 81 of The Laird’s Sinful Secret

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The library door slammed behind Moyra with enough force to rattle the hinges.

She pressed her back against the wood. Her eyes burned with unshed tears she refused to let fall. The council meeting had descended into chaos—accusations flying like arrows, her father’s name a curse on every tongue, the weight of MacKenzie blood pressing down on her shoulders until she couldn’t breathe.

She’d run. Like a coward.

The shame of it twisted in her gut as she moved deeper into the shadowed sanctuary. Her fingers traced worn spines as she passed, seeking something—anything—to anchor her spiraling thoughts.

The door opened with a soft creak.

Moyra’s spine went rigid. She didn’t need to turn to know who’d followed her. The air itself seemed to shift when Euan entered a room, becoming charged and dangerous. Even now, with her world crumbling, her traitorous body responded—pulse quickening, skin warming, every nerve suddenly alert.

“I dinnae recall giving ye permission tae follow me.”

“And I dinnae recall asking fer it.” His footsteps were quiet on the stone floor. “Ye left rather suddenly.”

“I’ve discovered I have a talent fer making rooms uncomfortable.” She pulled a random book from the shelf, though the words blurred before her eyes. “Best I remove meself before someone else decides me presence is a curse.”

He stopped behind her, close enough that his heat warmed her back. Close enough that she caught his scent of leather and steel.

“Why dae ye hide, Moyra?”

“I’m not hiding. I’m trying tae read.”

“Upside down?”

Damn him. She flipped the book right-side up with more force than necessary. “Perhaps I prefer it this way.”

“Perhaps ye’re a terrible liar.” His hand appeared, gently taking the book and setting it aside. The brush of his calloused fingers sent sparks racing up her arm. “Talk tae me, lass.”

She turned to face him, and immediately regretted it. The library’s soft light caught the planes of his face. Her fingers itched to touch him, to trace the line of his jaw where dark stubble shadowed his skin.

“I’m tired of being the daughter of a traitor. Every time I enter a room, I feel their judgment? I bring only suffering.”

“Ye believe that? Ye think yer presence here is a curse?”

“What else am I tae think? Me father’s actions brought war tae yer doorstep. His men attacked yer villages. Innocents died because he wants me back. Every choice I make brings more death. Perhaps I should have stayed in that cell. Perhaps everyone would be safer.”

“Dinnae say that.” The command was sharp, edged with something raw. “Dinnae ever say that.”

“Why not? It’s true. Those refugees—those children—they’re homeless because of me. How many more will suffer before this ends?”

“None of that is yer fault.”

“Isnae it? His blood runs in me veins, Euan. His schemes, his cruelty—it all comes back tae me. I’m the weapon he’s wielding.”

He stepped closer, his broad shoulders blocking out the room, making the world shrink tae just them. Her pulse hammered as she tilted her head back to meet his gaze.

“Ye want tae ken what I see when I look at ye?”

She couldn’t speak, could only shake her head.

“I see a woman who survived three months of hell and came out fighting. Someone who stands afore me Council with her head held high. Someone who tends tae refugees when she could hide, who makes children smile when her own world is falling apart.” His hand lifted, cupping her face. “I see strength, Moyra. Nae suffering. Someone worth protecting, worth—” He stopped himself, jaw clenching. “Worth everything.”

“How can ye say that? How can ye nae see the destruction I’ve brought?”

“Because I understand what it means tae carry a burden ye didnae choose.” His thumb caught a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “Ye think ye’re the only one who’s ever felt like a curse? Who’s wondered if everyone would be better off if ye’d never existed?”