Page 38 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

A betrothed, even a false one, wandering the grounds alone at night was a risk he was not willing to take. She was vulnerable out there in the water, completely unguarded.

He kept telling himself that as well—and many other things—as he approached.

He smelled woodsmoke and lavender soap, carried faintly on the night air, and then he saw her. She stood waist-deep in the dark water, moonlight sliding across her bare shoulders where her hair had come loose and wet against her skin.

She was bathing.

It was a sight to behold.

Dougal felt trapped there, standing and watching the captivating sight. Skye had yet to notice him, caught up in enjoying the cool water lapping at her soft, smooth skin.

He should have turned around, but he didn’t.

He should never have been out here in the first place, but there was no point in turning back now.

He took a step forward, keeping silent. Skye remained there, her back turned to him, humming a soft tune under her breath that he recognized as one his mother used to sing to Lily when she was younger to soothe her during those difficult nights.

“Ye shouldnae be out here alone.”

Skye started, sinking lower, water lapping at her collarbone. “Ye shouldnae be spying on me, either, but here we both are, breaking the rules. What do ye have to say about that?”

He thought about reaching out, brushing off the droplets that ran down her body, and tasting them. He yearned to coax more moans past her lips.

“I wasnae spying. I was looking for ye.”

“Why are ye so concerned?” Skye countered.

Dougal narrowed his eyes. “It was ye who werenae in their rooms at this hour.”

“So ye sought me out?”

He shrugged. “We have a conversation to finish.”

It was the safest response. Either he answers her and admitted it, or remained quiet, confirming her suspicions.

Skye surprised him then by not playing the shy lass he had assumed she was. She had found her boldness suddenly.

He expected her to sink further into the water until all he could see was her head, but she rose until the swell of her breasts broke the surface. They caught the moonlight before she went still, waist-deep once more, her gaze never leaving his.

She wasn’t hiding as he expected her to. She might have even heard him long before he’d spoken, same as she had the first time, but she made no move to cover herself.

Dougal swallowed, biting back a growl.

This was a sight only his eyes were privy to. His betrothed, whether she was fake or not, was his to see and his to be around. No other man, including Stephen, should be around her.

They should not receive her smiles. Her laughter. Her gentle touch. They were all for him and him alone.

“Well, ye found me.” She didn’t move to cover herself further, her chin lifting instead, daring him to look away first. He didn’t do that either.

“I daenae like other men fussing over ye. Betrothed or nae, fake or nae.”

He couldn’t get her joy around Stephen earlier that day out of his mind. It had consumed him. Perhaps Stephen had been right.

Dougal hated him even more now.

“Ye cannae say that if ye’ve no intention of claiming me fully,” Skye said, her voice tight. “Ye cannae have it both ways, Dougal.”

“I ken that.”