Page 65 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

One of Angus's men, pale and shaken by what he'd just witnessed, hurried to bring his laird's horse forward, the reins trembling in his grip

Angus mounted his horse without another word, gathered his men, and rode hard through the gates, leaving the fallen guard behind in the dirt. Only once the thunder of hooves had faded did Dougal turn, sword still in hand, his chest heaving from exertion.

“Skye.” He crossed to her in two strides, his hands hovering over her shoulders as though he didn’t trust himself to touch her, not yet. “Are ye all right?”

“I’m fine, truly.” Her voice wavered.

“Ye’re shaking.” He took her hand gently and turned it over, searching for some mark, some proof of harm he could point to and rage against. “Skye, look at me. Tell me the truth.”

She trembled. “I am a little shaken up, but I am telling ye the truth. I am fine.”

Dougal wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t get the image of her being manhandled by another man out of his head.

“He touched ye.” The words came out low. “I saw his hand on ye, and I—” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I’ll nae let any man lay his hands on ye. Nae Angus’s guard, nae anyone. Do ye understand me?”

“Dougal.” Skye said his name gently. She laid a hand against his chest, as if trying to steady him. “I’m here. I’m nae hurt.”

“Ye could have been.” He finally dropped his sword and drew her against him, one arm banding round her, his chin coming to rest atop her head as though he needed to feel her whole, breathing. “I daenae ken what I’d have done if he’d…”

He couldn’t finish. He didn’t have to.

Skye leaned into him, and he felt the last tremor work its way out of her. “Ye frightened me more. The way ye moved…”

“I’ll move a great deal faster than that, the next time someone thinks to touch what’s mine.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Come. I’ll see ye settled, and then I will go speak with me maither. She’ll want to ken that everything’s all right, and I’d rather she hear it from me than from some panicked servant.”

23

Skye was more rattled than she let on. She tried to be brave, but apparently Dougal saw right through her. He insisted on walking her back to the castle.

Even though she had insisted she was fine, she was comforted by his presence. It was good to have him by her side, despite the circumstances.

She wanted to blame herself. What if by insisting that Lily experience more of the outside world, she had caused someone to see her and report back to Angus?

There was no proof. Dougal insisted that she had nothing to do with it. He had narrowed it down to a servant and a guard, telling her that they would pay for breaking his trust and putting Lily in danger.

Skye didn’t have to ask what he meant by that. It must have been how he acted the day he had saved Lily. He had seen Elsie’s dead body and reacted on instinct.

She sat down on the edge of her bed and rubbed her shoulder where the guard had left a finger-shaped bruise. With murder in his eyes, Stephen and Dougal had left to speak about what had occurred and to make plans for the attack on Angus.

But he had insisted on walking her to her rooms first, pausing at the doorway, eyes focused on her shoulder.

He didn't leave once they arrived. He followed her inside instead, shutting the door softly behind them, and the room suddenly felt smaller than it had any right to.

"Let me see it," he said, nodding toward her shoulder.

"Dougal, it's only a bruise?—"

"Skye." Just her name, low and final, the same tone he used when he meant to be obeyed and knew he would be.

She sighed and tugged her sleeve down just enough to bare the mark, dark against her pale skin, the shape of fingers pressed too hard. Dougal went very still. His jaw worked, and for a moment she thought he might say something cutting, something about the guard who'd left it, but instead his hand came up, hovering just above the bruise without touching it, as though he were afraid of what his own strength might do.

"I did this," he said quietly. "By nae being fast enough."

"Ye were fast enough. Ye killed him before he could do worse."

"Nae fast enough to keep this from happening in the first place." His thumb finally grazed the edge of the bruise, feather-light, and she shivered despite the warmth of the room. "I daenae like seeing marks on ye that arenae mine to answer for."

The words settled somewhere low in her chest, something dangerous and warm. "Dougal?—"