Page 52 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

Skye blinked slowly. Her eyes swept over his body, landing on the bulge in his trousers, and her mouth formed the shape of an O.

“Aye, we should,” she blurted out.

She didn’t move right away, cheeks still flushed, hands unsteady as she smoothed her skirts. It pleased him more than it should have.

“Did ye learn anything tonight, lass?” he asked, amusement creeping into his voice.

She lifted her chin. “I learned that if this is meant to be a punishment, ye might find me disobeying ye far more often.”

He chuckled as she hurried to the door with a curt goodnight. He didn’t call her back, though he wanted to.

When he touched himself that night in the privacy of his room, he did so with images of her in his mind.

The next morning, Stephen found him in the yard in a much better mood. His eyebrows shot up, a smirk curving his lips.

“Well, well.”

Dougal rolled his eyes. “Well what?”

“Just well.”

“Stephen, ye are trying me patience. Say what ye have to say, or leave me be.”

Stephen chuckled. “It’s just… ye’re whistling.”

“I am nae.”

“Ye were. I heard it plain as day when I was coming down the corridor,” he insisted. “In fact, I cannae remember the last time I heard ye whistle. Didnae think ye were capable of making such a happy, upbeat sound.”

Dougal wasn’t going to take the bait. He wasn’t.

“Ye’re imagining things, Stephen.”

“Am I?” Stephen teased. “I think I ken why ye are so happy. Ye have the look that all men get after a very good night’s sleep.”

“I slept fine,” Dougal grunted.

Alas, it wasn’t enough to get Stephen off his back.

“Aye, I’d wager ye did.” Stephen grinned. “Something to do with a certain lass, perhaps?”

“Stephen, ye are truly playing with fire. What has gotten into ye this morning? Did ye have whiskey a little earlier than usual?”

“I’m only saying that ye look… lighter. Nae so much like a man carrying the weight of the whole Highlands on his shoulders.” He clapped a hand on Dougal’s shoulder, entirely too pleased with himself. “It suits ye.”

“Have ye nothing better to do than pester me?” Dougal shot him a glare.

“Nay, nae really.” Stephen laughed, unbothered. “Ye can glare at me all ye like, me Laird, but I ken what I saw. And what I heard. A whistling, smiling laird isnae something I get to witness often.”

“I wasnae smiling.”

“Ye’re doing it right now.”

Dougal flattened his expression immediately.

Stephen only laughed harder, shaking his head as he walked off toward the stables. “Whatever’s got ye in such a mood,” he called back over his shoulder, “I hope it lasts, me Laird. Ye wear it well.”

Dougal said nothing, though he found himself fighting the smile threatening at the corner of his mouth the entire walk back to the castle.