Page 37 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

How foolish was she to be shaken up by a simple goodnight and brief encounter such as that?

Shaking her head, Skye continued up to her rooms and didn’t stop until she was finally in her quarters. She closed the door, pressing her back against the wood.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, listening for footsteps down the corridor. But she didn’t hear anything except for the faint sounds of night settling over the Highlands.

Tonight, Dougal had decided not to go after her. Skye wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

14

Afew hours. That was how long Dougal waited before he sought her out again. Apparently, their last encounter in the attic hadn’t been enough for Dougal.

It was ridiculous that he could not last longer than a few hours before he sought out the woman who tormented his thoughts, whether he was awake or not.

A part of her knew it too.

He rapped softly at her door and waited for her to respond, but he was met with silence. It wasn’t strange on the surface, but he saw light flickering beneath the door.

Either Skye was still awake and promptly ignoring him, or she had fallen asleep without putting out the fire.

“Skye?”

Silence.

“Skye, I would like to speak with ye.”

Still nothing.

Perhaps he had misjudged how angry she was.

He opened the door himself and found an empty room. The bed was made, as it had been this morning by the servants, but Skye was nowhere in sight.

An empty room.

A missing woman.

It reminded him of Elsie, setting a fire and faking her death in her hope for a better future.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

No, this was not the same. Skye was not Elsie. She had not fled after setting a fire, hoping to run off with her beloved. This was not the same situation.

Dougal had to remind himself of that.

He couldn’t ignore the fact that Skye was not in the rooms he had assigned her, but there was a different explanation. Her things,most importantly her latest draft of the story, lay untouched on the desk. She wouldn’t flee the castle without it, so she must be somewhere close.

He glanced out the window, scanning the courtyard, but there was no sign of her there either. Then his eyes landed on the lake.

Someone was swimming.

It was a cool night, but not so cool that one couldn’t take a dip in the lake. From here, Dougal couldn’t tell who the feminine figure belonged to, but his gut told him it was her.

What he did next was foolish.

He should have sent a maid after her or perhaps his mother. There was the option of waiting until morning. Anything other than heading downstairs and outside towards the lake, where he suspected Skye had gone.

It’s prudence. Nothing more.

He kept telling himself that.