Page 63 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

“Whatever this is, ye cannae let him see ye rattled. He’ll consider it a weakness, and a man like him will pounce wherever he smells weakness.”

It was the truth, but Dougal didn’t like hearing it.

He was not going to let himself be rattled simply because Angus had shown up at his gates, demanding an audience. That wasn’t the way to handle the man.

“I ken how to handle Angus.”

“Aye, I would never accuse ye of nae being able to handle him.” Stephen’s voice dropped lower still. “Where’s Lily?”

The question stopped Dougal cold in the middle of the path.

“With Skye. In the gardens, chasing that blasted goat, last I saw.”

“Ye should have someone bring her inside. Quietly. Before Angus catches sight of her.”

“He willnae get near her,” Dougal growled. “Over me dead body will he even lay an eye on her.”

“That isnae what I said.”

Dougal exhaled sharply and turned toward the maid hovering uselessly by the stairwell. “Go find Lily. Bring her inside, and daenae let her wander back out, whatever she tells ye.”

The maid scurried off to do his bidding.

Stephen caught his arm before he could continue toward the gates. “Dougal. If he kens the truth, what will ye do?”

It was a question that had plagued Dougal for seven years. He had always known deep down that this day would come. That one day, Angus would show up, having somehow found out about Lily.

He had done so much to protect her. Had it all been for nothing?

His eyes were hard, unreadable, even without the mask concealing half his face. “Whatever I must, Stephen. Lily isnae leaving this castle. Nae for him. Nae for anyone. She is me daughter. She doesnae belong to Angus and never will.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He strode toward the courtyard, his jaw set, every step measured despite the storm building beneath his ribs. Seven years of silence had bought him nothing in the end, only time. And now that time had run out.

Whatever Angus had come to say, Dougal meant to hear it standing tall, mask in place, giving nothing away. He would protect Lily with his last breath, whatever the cost, whatever truth finally came to light.

He stepped into the courtyard, his chin high, his mask fixed firmly in place. Angus stood waiting near his horse, older than Dougal remembered, grey threading through what had once been dark hair, but his eyes were the same. Hard. Unforgiving.

“Angus.” Dougal stopped a careful distance away. “It’s been a long while.”

The sight of the man made his blood boil, but he pushed down his anger.

“Seven years.” Angus’s voice was rough with what might have been grief or rage. “Seven years I’ve mourned me daughter and buried an empty coffin, and let ye stand at her memorial and lie to me face.”

“I never lied about?—”

“Daenae.” Angus’s hand curled at his side. “I ken the truth now. All of it. Elsie didnae die in that fire. She died giving birth, andye’ve kept her bairn hidden away in this castle for seven years, letting me believe that me only daughter was ash and bone.”

Someone had told him about Lily. For years, Dougal had been so careful. He had made sure that every servant knew as little about her as possible. The only rule he had was to never speak of her existence.

He had not hired new help for years because he was fearful of hiring someone who could not be trusted. But a year ago, two elderly servants had passed, forcing him to hire new ones. It must have been one of them.

They would pay for betraying his trust and putting Lily in danger, but for now, he had to deal with Angus and his demands.

“Who told ye that?” he gritted out.

“Does it matter?” Angus took a step closer. “I want to see her. I want to see me grandchild.”

“Ye’ve no right to her.”