Page 13 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

Skyewouldtell her sister tomorrow. Freya was bound to find out anyway.

Skye dismissed her maid early that night, wanting a moment alone to settle her thoughts before sleep claimed her. She unpinned her hair first, letting the dark waves fall loose down her back. Then she unlaced her gown, stepped out of it, and hung it carefully rather than leaving it crumpled for morning.

In its place, she pulled on a wool shift, soft from years of washing. She sat at the end of her bed longer than she meant to, staring at the unfinished page on her writing desk, the candle burning low beside it. It had been a week since she had tried to write more, but she had gotten only a paragraph in before she realized she had no idea what to write.

The story would forever remain unfinished unless she managed to get the rest of it from Dougal. For the sake of her craft and her readers, she had to see this through.

She lay back against the pillows, pulling the blankets to her chin and letting herself think of those ice-blue eyes and that tall, muscular frame. His long, tousled dark hair did little to hide his strong jaw and broad shoulders. The light stubble on his face added to his appeal.

She didn’t fear the mask. She found it mysterious. She did not want to find out what was underneath, but learn more aboutwhat had really happened. There was more to the story. She knew it.

Sleep did not come easily to her that night. She dreamed of the two of them standing there under the tree.

In the dream, he didn’t pull back the way he had that day. He closed the last distance between them instead, one hand cradling her jaw, tilted her face up to his, and kissed her like he’d been waiting far longer than the few hours they’d actually known each other.

It wasn’t gentle. There was nothing careful about the way his mouth moved against hers, demanding rather than asking, like he’d decided the rules she’d set didn’t apply to whatever this was.

She felt the rough edge of his mask brush her cheek, the heat of him pressing her back against the bark of the tree, and she didn’t pull away. She didn’t even think to, her hands fisting in the front of his shirt instead, pulling him closer rather than pushing him away.

He murmured something against her mouth, words she couldn’t understand. But before she could ask him to repeat them, he kissed her deeper, like he meant to memorize the shape of her mouth before the night ended.

She woke up gasping, her heart pounding hard against her ribs. There was a tingling between her legs, one she dared not think about or seek out.

The next morning, Skye picked at her bread while Emily grinned over her own plate and Freya watched her with open suspicion.

Skye tried to avoid her sister’s gaze, but it was difficult when Freya’s eyes followed her wherever she went.

Freya was stubborn, refusing to let go of what she had just found out. She had been furious, as Skye had expected. Emily had been there when Skye told her the truth, doing her best to calm her. It was a miracle Freya had not started shouting at the top of her lungs.

“Ye look as though ye didnae sleep,” Freya noted, but Skye was able to read between the lines.

“I slept fine.”

She hadn’t slept at all. After that dream, she had tried, but more dreams kept coming. Giving up on sleep was the only way to stop herself from feeling… certain things. It was safer that way.

Freya frowned. “Do ye think I daenae ken when me own sister is lying to me?”

“I am nae lying,” Skye whispered.

“Skye, ye are a terrible liar. When will ye learn?”

“Do ye truly think him a monster?” Skye asked instead, ignoring the question. “That he killed his betrothed?”

She didn’t want to hear from her sister how she was a terrible liar. She wanted to forget that this conversation was even happening. All she wanted was to move forward with her plan. It was a month—one simple month out of her life.

If Dougal kept true to his word, he would come by this morning.

Unless he did not.

Skye mulled over the possibility, but she wasn’t sure if she would be relieved or disappointed if he didn’t make good on his promise to speak with her brother.

It would certainly make her life easier. There would be no blackmail, and her reputation would remain intact, but it was a difficult thing to swallow if she could never have the ending to her story.

“Even if he isnae,” Freya said carefully, “that doesnae mean a man like him willnae break yer heart.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” a deep voice called from behind them.

All three of them froze.