Chapter 2
Skye had dressed carefully that evening, more carefully than she’d admit to Emily.
Her long, dark brown hair was pinned back, the warm tone accentuated by the deep amber of her woolen gown. Her bodice was trimmed with a thin band of her family’s tartan at the shoulders, a shawl wrapped around her to ward off the evening chill.
The cèilidh was loud and warm and smelled of roasted meat and spilled ale, and Skye had spent most of it half-listening to Emily and half-thinking about the unfinished page hidden in her room.
She was eager to return to writing, no matter how much she wanted to celebrate her sister-in-law’s second pregnancy.
“What do ye think the Lion of the Highlands will do next?” someone close by whispered.
“I daenae ken!”
Skye didn’t know either.
That was a problem because she was the writer.
She had never imagined anyone would ever read her work. She wrote for herself and no one else, but seeing how everyone reacted to her writing made her want to share more, even under a pen name.
She heard everyone in the Highlands talk about what would happen next. She had sat down to write the next part of her story, but she wasn’t able to continue. Something was blocking her.
Emily leaned in. “Ye still daenae ken how it ends?” Her voice was pitched low.
“Nay.” Skye’s cheeks warmed even admitting it. “I havenae decided if he kisses her or kills her.”
Emily let out a soft sigh. “I hoped ye might have an inkling of which way it might go.”
Emily had been one of the first to read the pamphlet and come to her with questions.
“I daenae.”
She gave Skye a gentle smile. “Have faith that ye will figure out a proper ending for the characters.”
“But how? I have nothing to write,” Skye admitted, her cheeks flushing further.
“Well, we ken it will be scandalous either way. That’s a start,” Emily murmured.
Skye almost choked on her breath. “Stop, or someone will hear ye.”
Emily laughed. “I doubt anyone will hear us. Everyone is pished.”
Skye’s eyes widened. “Emily!”
Her sister-in-law rarely spoke so bluntly and out of turn, but she had her moments, saving them for when she was with Skye or Freya.
“It is true.”
“That doesnae mean we should speak so plainly,” Skye whispered, though her mouth curved despite herself.
“Forgive me. I forget meself sometimes when it’s only us.” Emily reached for her cup, taking a small sip before setting it back down. “Besides, I only meant to encourage ye. Whatever ye decide for the ending, yer readers will love it. They always do.”
“That’s nae the comfort ye think it is. The more they love it, the more pressure I feel to get it right.”
“Then write what feels true to ye, and let the rest of the Highlands form their own opinions,” Emily suggested. “I was surprised when ye told me that Freya published the stories when she discovered them in yer room, but it’s quite the compelling tale!”
Skye considered that, turning her cup slowly between her palms. “Freya really liked me idea for the kidnapping. She said it would make people talk even more than before.”
“She wasnae wrong.”
“Nay, she wasnae. But now every time I sit down to write, I think of a dozen ways it might go, and none of them feel right.”
“Perhaps ye’re thinking too hard about it.”
“Perhaps.” Skye glanced toward the hall, the noise and warmth of the gathering pressing in around her. “Or perhaps I simply need to stop thinking of him as a character I invented and start thinking of him as someone who might actually answer for himself, if given the chance.”
Emily raised an eyebrow at that, clearly sensing more behind the words, but said nothing further as the room suddenly fell silent around them.
Skye gazed around the room. It wasn’t entirely wrong. Some were indulging in their drinks, enjoying the celebration. Her family was not among them.
“When ye decide, ye ken where to find me.”
Skye laughed softly. “Aye.”
A series of gasps rippled through the room, and she scrunched up her nose in confusion.
“Why is everyone making such a fuss?”
Emily opened her mouth to speak, but the conversation died mid-sentence before Skye even saw the cause of it.
A laird, half his face hidden behind black leather, stepped into the room, chin raised, shoulders squared.
Whispers rose the instant the silence broke.
“He dares show his face after what he did to that poor lass?”
“Do ye think he’s looking for another bride?”
“After he killed the first one?”
The whispers continued, growing more unhinged by the second. Everyone seemed to want to outdo each other with the rumors they were willing to spread right in front of the man.
Skye was aghast, ashamed to have these people in her home. No one deserved to be treated in such a manner. Rumors were not a reason to talk so blatantly in front of anyone.
The man said nothing. He merely stood there, coolly observing the room, but there was no way he hadn’t heard.
“Nothing was ever proven,” Skye said, sharper than she meant to. The words surprised even her. She hadn’t expected such ferocity from herself.
She detested rumors. They were created by people who had nothing better to do. Nothing of themselves to be proud of, so they tried to bring down everyone else.
Emily blinked at her, shocked by her boldness. “Skye…”
Well, it was unusual for Skye to say such things. One would expect it from Freya but never Skye. But the boldness settled in her chest, refusing to leave.
“It wasnae. Nobody ever found?—”
“Why are ye defending him?”
Skye didn’t have an answer, not one she could say aloud anyway. Something about the way the man stood at the edge of the room, surrounded by people and entirely alone, had loosened something in her chest before she’d thought better of it.
She fell quiet, avoiding Emily’s gaze. She grew aware, with sudden and utter certainty, that he’d heard her.
His eyes found hers across the room, dark, assessing, unreadable. He held her gaze for longer than she thought he would. It made her cheeks heat up.
Even with half his face hidden, he was handsome in a way the pamphlet sketches had never managed to capture. More handsome than she’d let herself imagine while writing about him.
Not that she had ever thought about it.
Much.
Her cheeks burned.
Emily noticed, raising an eyebrow. “Ye’re staring,” she whispered.
“I am nae.”
“Ye absolutely are,” she insisted. “I daenae think ye have even blinked since he walked into the room.”
Skye gasped. “Surely I have!”
“Nay, ye havenae.”
She forced her gaze down to her cup, her heart hammering too fast for a woman who’d done nothing more than speak two sentences in a crowded room.
A man like that, she thought, would be the death of any girl foolish enough to be curious about him. She couldn’t decide yet if his gaze was a warning or an invitation.
Part of her wanted it to be an invitation, if she was being honest with herself.
Across the room, the whispers hadn’t quieted. A cluster of older women drew their shawls tighter, as though proximity alone might invite misfortune. One man muttered something to his companion that made him snicker.
Skye felt an unreasonable urge to cross the room and tell them all to hold their tongues.
“Ye’re doing it again,” Emily murmured.
“Doing what?”
“Looking like ye want to fight someone on his behalf.”
“I daenae.”
“Skye.” Emily’s voice softened. “Ye daenae even ken the man.”
“I ken enough,” Skye said before she could stop herself.
She wasn’t entirely sure if that was true.
“Do ye?” Emily challenged. “Did ye learn it by staring at him?”
“I…”
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 the need to 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.