Chapter 4
The man was mad. He must be to suggest such a thing.
Skye took a step back, gazing at him as if he did not fully understand what he was saying. But she knew deep down that a man like him would not say such a thing unless he meant it. He was a man of few words, and when he spoke, he was careful with what he said.
Unlike her, who often stumbled over her words, saying things she often wished she hadn’t.
The one thing she did not regret was defending him back inside in front of the guests. Her brother would chastise her later when he had the chance, but she was going to stand by what she had done. No one should have acted in such a way towards the man. It was simply rude.
“Ye cannae be serious.”
“I’m being kind,” he said, “by nae telling the Highlands that their beloved storyteller is a well-bred lass who shouldnae be having such thoughts, let alone writing them down for coin.”
Skye lifted her hand to her mouth.
She had misjudged the man. He was a scoundrel after all, but one of a different kind!
One who used secrets to get what he wanted.
She had come out here in good faith, wanting to tell him that she was responsible for the story.
It felt like the right thing to do after causing everyone to stare blatantly at him, whispering right to his face and caring little for how that might affect him.
“That’s blackmail,” she accused, taking a step back.
“Call it what ye like.” He stepped closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back. “I could just as easily claim ye as mine in truth, lass. Turn the fake betrothal real if that is what ye like, but the decision is yers. What will it be, then?”
She stared at him, stunned. She wanted love, not convenience, if she ever married at all. But loneliness was its own kind of hunger, and she’d been starved of company longer than she liked to admit.
She found herself actually considering the arrangement, but that was mad. Agreeing to such a thing, even though she could get the ending to her story, was not something she should consider.
But she was, and that was what scared her.
“And if I refuse the whole arrangement?”
“Then I suppose the Highlands will keep wondering whether their favorite author is a man hiding behind a false name, or something far more scandalous.” His eyes glinted. “As I said, yer choice, lass.”
“Ye truly are a monster,” Skye huffed.
The man chuckled. He took the insult she hurled at him in stride, barely even giving it much thought. Skye wondered how often he was called a monster for him to let it roll off him as if nothing had been spoken.
Far too often, she imagined. But any pity she might have felt for him vanished when he threatened to blackmail her. She would not allow herself to be blackmailed!
“So I’ve been told.” He didn’t look bothered by the accusation in the slightest. “But a month isnae so long. Ye get the ending to yer story, I get me reputation back. Nobody else needs to ken the truth of either. Then ye can come back here and live out the rest of yer life.”
“Just like that?”
“Aye. Ye walk away. Alive, well, free to write whatever foolishness ye please about whichever laird ye please.” A pause. “Though I confess I’d rather ye write about me a while longer.”
She flushed despite herself. “Fine. A month.”
The words once again tumbled past her lips before she realized what she was doing.
What had she agreed to?
A deal with a monster, that much she was sure of.
"Good lass," he murmured.
Skye felt her cheeks burn and a tingling where his lips touched her hand. She drew it back gently, tucking it against her skirts as though she could hide the warmth still lingering there.
"Being alone with the Lion of the Highlands is trouble enough without lingering over it," she said, trying for lightness and only half managing it.
"Is that what ye call me, then?" His mouth curved, though there was something sharper beneath the amusement.
"Ye seem to ken everything about me already—me reputation, me rumors, even the shape of me sins, if the whispers are to be believed.
And yet I got a confession out of ye tonight, lass, but nae yer name. "
Skye blinked, caught out. In all the strangeness of the evening—the blackmail, the bargain, the way he'd looked at her like he meant to memorize her—she realized she'd never actually told him.
"Skye," she said. "Skye MacLeod."
"Skye." He said it slowly, testing the shape of it, as though he meant to keep it somewhere he wouldn't misplace it. "A fitting name for a lass who came chasing after a man half the Highlands is too feart to look in the eye."
"I wasnae chasing ye."
"Nay?" One dark brow lifted. "Ye followed me out into the cold, alone, uninvited. I willnae quarrel over the word, if it troubles ye so."
Her cheeks burned hotter, and she was grateful for the dark. Voices carried from the path behind them, and laughter drifted closer. The guests must be wandering back from the hall.
Skye gathered her skirts in alarm. No one could see them here. It was bad enough that she had rushed out after the man. She could excuse it as needing to take the air, but if they were caught talking, then it was over. There would be no excuse she could use.
She took a shaky breath, reluctant to break the moment. "I should go before?—"
"Before anyone sees ye alone with the Lion of the Highlands?" His mouth curved.
She turned to leave, her heart still racing, but then he caught her wrist gently. Not to stop her, only to slow her one moment longer.
"It was nice meeting ye, Skye MacLeod," he said, his voice quiet enough that only she could hear.
She pulled free and hurried off into the dark without looking back, though she could feel his eyes on her the entire way.
“I’ll visit yer braither soon, lass,” he called after her, just loud enough to make her stumble a step. He chuckled.
Skye slowed down, but the people wandering up the path barely gave her a second glance. They were far too caught up in their conversations to care much what she was doing.
She was able to slip back inside without much fuss, only to bump right into Emily.
“Skye, where have ye been?”
Her breath caught in her throat. “I went for a walk.”
“In this weather?”
“I took me shawl, Emily.”
Emily cast her a dubious look. “Ye daenae expect me to believe that, do ye?”
“It is the truth!” Skye whisper-hissed. She had already drawn enough attention that night. She didn’t want any more.
“Nay, Emily and I ken that isnae the truth.”
Well, maybe Emily could tell when she was being dishonest, but in truth, Skye had never been particularly good at lying.
“If ye must ken, I went to speak with?—”
“I kent it. Ye spoke with the Lion of the Highlands,” Emily interrupted. “Have ye lost yer mind?”
Skye fisted her hands into the skirt of her dress in frustration. “I wanted to explain about the stories.”
“Skye, ye didnae say it was ye who wrote them, did ye?”
She grew quiet, unable to meet her sister-in-law’s gaze.
“Skye,” Emily gasped in disbelief and horror. “Ye didnae.”
“I had to, Emily! I felt bad enough that me story started rumors about him again. To me, it was just a story with interesting characters, but the Highlands meant more to me than that.”
“He could ruin ye for this. Ye ken that, do ye nae? A lass writing such things! And a well-bred one at that. Yer braither would be mortified.”
“He willnae tell anyone,” Skye insisted.
“And ye believe that because he told ye so himself?” Emily pressed a hand to her temple like she was warding off a headache. “Skye, the man is called a monster for a reason. Ye cannae simply trust him because he smiled at ye in the dark.”
“He didnae smile. Nae really,” Skye said, hesitating. “We made an arrangement.”
Emily went still. “What sort of arrangement?”
“A betrothal, a false one,” Skye explained, the words tumbling out faster. “He helps me finish the story, and I help him fix his reputation. A month, and then it’s done. We both go on with our lives.”
Emily gaped at her as if she had sprouted another head. “A month? Skye MacLeod, ye cannae be serious. How can ye even think about agreeing to such a thing?”
“I am entirely serious,” Skye asserted. “And I have thought it through.”
“Does Freya ken about this?”
She flinched at the mention of her sister. “Nae yet, but I will tell her.”
“Then I suggest ye find the words to tell her quickly because if she hears it from anyone else, she’ll have both our heads before the sun has risen tomorrow.”
“I will tell her, Emily.”
“Ye had better see to that,” Emily warned. “I daenae like keeping secrets from yer sister. She has quite the temper.”
Skye stifled a laugh. “Freya would say she has a wee temper.”
“A bunch of shite,” Emily whispered back so only Skye could hear.
She giggled. “Freya would be none too pleased that we are talking about her like this.”
“Well, we must talk about yer sister because ye need to figure out the best time to tell her about this arrangement ye made.”
Skye grew quiet.
Emily was already disapproving of her decision, and she hadn’t even left for a month yet! If she were facing such pushback from Emily, how would her sister react?
“I told ye I will tell her, Emily.” Skye remembered Dougal’s words before they parted earlier.
“He intends to speak to me braither.”
Emily sighed. “Yer braither is going to react even worse to the news.”
“He mustnae ken the truth! Promise me, Emily. If he does, he’ll make threats. Or worse. I need to be really careful about this.”
“Ye want me to keep secrets from me husband?” Emily looked horrified at the idea.
Skye reached out, taking Emily’s hands into her slightly smaller ones. “Emily, I wouldnae ask such a thing of ye unless it was important. Ye ken that.”
Emily sighed. “I ken.”
The softening look in her eyes and her deep sigh told Skye that she had nothing more to worry about.
“Thank ye,” Skye whispered, pulling her into an embrace. “I owe ye.”
Emily laughed. “Ye will be tasked with watching over the bairn when yer braither and I need some time to ourselves.”
“Aye, I will.”