Page 7 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

It was difficult to come up with a response to Emily’s bold statement, perhaps because it was the truth.

The man still kept to himself in the room, speaking to no one. Somehow, he was doing a good job of ignoring all the whispers and stares being sent his way.

Skye tried not to add to the staring, but she wasn’t doing it out of judgment. Rather, she was doing it out of curiosity and interest.

Emily had stopped pointing out that she was blatantly staring at him, but Skye could sense her disapproval in every look she gave her.

Then the man turned to leave.

Skye watched him slip out of the room, and before she knew what she was doing, she was moving.

“Skye!” Emily hissed, reaching for her arm and stopping her. “Where are ye going?”

Skye froze. “I-I need some fresh air.”

Emily let go of her arm, but from the expression on her face, it was obvious she didn’t believe a word.

Skye wanted to ease her worries, but she was already hurrying out the door and into the cold air.

Skye was not sure what she was doing.

She lifted the skirts of her dress and rushed out into the cold air. It was improper and made her a bad host, but she wanted to apologize to the man for how everyone had acted. Such behavior reflected poorly on her and her family.

Surely, that was it. She felt theneedto apologize.

Well, no. If she were being honest, she just wanted to speak with him, to satisfy the curiosity that bloomed in her chest.

The closer she drew to him, the faster her heart beat in her chest.

3

The room felt like a lion’s den, though Dougal would’ve preferred stepping into one. Hungry lions were predictable. Highlanders? Less so.

Whispers surrounded him. He found himself staring down several pairs of eyes, many of whom did not bother to look away.

Why would they, when they deemed him a murderer?

Stephen had warned him before he left, even though he had been the one to encourage him to go in the first place. Dougal had given him a look that told him he didn’t want to hear any more of it.

He knew exactly what to expect when he had arrived at the cèilidh. Dougal had only interacted with his staff, his mother, Lily, and Stephen. His self-imposed isolation had kept him away from society.

Until the pamphlet, he had seen little reason to break it. But that pamphlet was spreading from home to home. Those who were captivated by the mystery pointed fresh accusations at Dougal, claiming he was responsible for other troubles in the Highlands.

It soon became too much.

The room grew suffocating. He spun around and left without a word, the whispers following him. Several craned their heads to watch him leave, but he paid them no mind. After tonight, they would become nameless accusers, the same as the rest over the years.

He found a tree at the edge of the grounds, half-hidden, and leaned against it, letting the cold air clear his head. His mind drifted to her, the lass who’d defended him without knowing he could hear her. She was beautiful in a way that made him angry at himself for noticing.

Such a lovely thing.

The candlelight had caught one of the loose dark brown curls against her neck, the amber of her gown warm against her skin. For that one moment, he had forgotten to be the Lion and looked the way any man would look at a beautiful woman.

When their eyes had met, her cheeks flushed, and the woman next to her whispered something in her ear, making her blush deepen. But then he had been forced back into reality, the whispers and stares reaching him again.

Even the woman’s fierce defense had done nothing to sway the guests’ opinions. They had made up their minds about him, and nothing would change that.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps.