Page 19 of The Laird's Secret Bairn
His thoughts drifted to Skye when she mentioned her condition—no kissing. The more they talked about it, the redder her cheeks seemed to become.
Despite behaving like a proper lady, she had quite the wild imagination. He could tell just by looking at her.
But it didn’t matter. He would be able to get through a month.
A month was nothing for a man like him.
7
The days passed by in a blur.
Skye continued to be tormented by erotic dreams, often waking up with her sheets twisted around her and her shift hiked up. In a panic, she would shove the fabric down, her hands brushing softly across her inner thighs. Once, she almost gave in to temptation, but then lifted her hands and set them atop the blankets.
She could not lose herself. It was improper, even if Dougal was to be her betrothed for a month.
When the day came to leave, Freya insisted on helping her dress. Skye was surprised. Her sister had been against it from the start, but over the past two days, she had begun to change her mind.
Skye believed that Freya had finally realized that she intended to go through with it, and there was no changing her mind.
If Freya wanted the two of them to remain close, then she needed to be there for her. Skye would never allow distance to grow between them, but she appreciated her elder sister’s support.
“This one.” Freya held up a deep green gown to Skye’s cheek. She had always been better at this than Skye. Then again, she was better at a lot of things. “It suits ye. Brings out the color of yer eyes.”
“It’s too fine for a fake betrothal,” Skye reminded her. “I daenae think we need to go to all that effort. I shall be back in a month, remember?”
Freya scoffed, ignoring her and going back to studying the gown she was holding up. “Aye, this one will do.”
Skye sighed. “Freya, are ye even listening to me?”
No response, much to her annoyance.
“Nothing is too fine for a laird’s castle,” Emily piped up, draping a second dress over the back of a chair. “Even a false one. Ye’ll want to look as though ye belong there, whether ye believe ye do or nae. Freya is right.”
“I doubt I’ll belong anywhere near that man,” Skye whispered.
“Mm.” Emily exchanged a knowing look with Freya over Skye’s head. “Ye blushed something fierce when he came looking forKaden the other day. I’d say ye belong there just fine, whatever ye tell yerself.”
“That means nothing. He has that effect on people,” Skye argued, wishing Emily and Freya hadn’t witnessed that. It was bad enough that Dougal had seen it, but now the two people she cared about most would tease her about it mercilessly.
“Does he now?” Freya folded her arms, unconvinced. “And what effect would that be, exactly?”
Skye resisted the urge to blush again. It would not help her case if she did. “Making a room go quiet and every lass in it forget her own name. It isnae personal.”
“Sounds rather personal to me,” Emily quipped, smirking, and dodged the pillow Skye threw at her. “I am merely speaking the truth, Skye. Why are ye trying to shoot the messenger?”
“I daenae agree.”
In the end, Skye packed the green gown, along with three others Freya insisted on despite her protests, and told herself firmly that she wasn’t choosing any of them with a certain man in mind. She mostly believed it.
She was beyond nervous to leave her home. She had never spent time away from the castle, but she had committed to this, and it was what she was going to do. The carriage would arrive soon totake her to Dougal, who was “eagerly” awaiting the arrival of his betrothed.
A month, Skye. It is only a month.
She changed into the gown Freya and Emily had insisted she wear for her first meeting with everyone at MacKinnon Castle. She was tired of arguing, so she decided to let them have their way. After all, it was just a month.
For some reason, she felt the need to keep reminding herself of that.
Dougal heard the carriage wheels on the gravel before he saw them, and dropped his sparring partner flat in the dirt without so much as a backward glance despite the man’s groan of protest.
