Chapter 12
The moment the planning started, Dougal knew that something was amiss. The servants knew how to keep things to themselves, but people gossiped. It was in their nature.
“A treasure hunt for Lily.”
“Aye, that’s lovely! The wee lass will be so surprised.”
“Lady Kenna and Lady Skye are planning it, I hear.”
“What of the Laird? Does he ken?”
“Nay, I daenae think so.”
Dougal heard enough of the conversation. He decided against speaking with Skye. After their argument, it was better to keep his distance, which left him with the second-best option—his mother.
She was in her usual spot by the hearth, working on her needlepoint. She smiled when she saw him, her face lighting up.
“Dougal, I suspect ye are here because ye’ve heard of the treasure hunt, aye?”
He nodded. “Aye, I am.”
“Do ye nae approve?”
“Maither, if it will make Lily happy, then I will always approve.”
Kenna laughed. “I suspected as much, but I will run it by ye next time, son.”
“How is Skye?”
Dougal had scarcely seen her today. The lass was doing her best to avoid him, as he was doing his best to avoid her.
What need did she have to avoid him? She was the one who had pushed when he told her to leave it be. But she kept at it, despite his warnings. She had brought it upon herself.
Her face flashed in his mind’s eye: the pain etched across her delicate features, the faint tremor in her lower lip. It stuck with him more than he cared to admit.
“Ye could ask her yerself,” Kenna pointed out gently.
“Aye, Maither, but I am asking ye.”
“She is excited about planning the treasure hunt for Lily. It was her idea, actually.”
Dougal paused. He had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed hit him differently.
“Aye, well, Lily will enjoy herself.”
“She will.” Kenna studied him a moment longer than was comfortable, the way she always did when she suspected he was hiding something even from himself. “Ye ken, ye could join them. Nobody’s stopping ye.”
“I have matters to attend to.”
“Ye always do.” She said, her eyes staying on him. “Funny, though, how those matters seem to multiply whenever Skye’s nearby.”
“Maither.”
“I’m only saying what I see, Dougal.” She smiled faintly, unbothered by his tone. “A blind woman could see the way ye watch her when ye think nobody’s looking.”
Dougal said nothing, his jaw tightening.
“That’s what I thought,” Kenna murmured.
“Maither, I will hear nothing more of it,” he said, his tone sharp.
She sighed. “Aye, I willnae bring it up again, son. Apologies.”
“I’ll see ye later.”
But it had been said, and her words hung around him like a chain. She had a way of pointing out the obvious in her gentle yet firm tone.
It meant nothing.
Even if he felt he was lying to himself.
Dougal had told himself he wouldn’t watch. He had lied.
He then shrugged it off and turned his attention to anything other than what was happening before his very eyes.
The anger kept rising slowly, settling in the pit of his stomach. It was too great a temptation to ignore, he realized.
From the edge of the yard, arms folded, he watched Skye and Stephen cross the finish line together, their arms linked, laughing so hard that Skye had to grip Stephen’s sleeve to stay upright.
Stephen said something Dougal couldn’t hear, and Skye threw her head back and let out that full, unguarded laugh he’d only ever gotten in careful, rationed pieces.
The treasure hunt had been ongoing all morning. Lily’s giggles were infectious, drawing smiles from even the most hardened of men. Dougal managed one of his own when no one was looking, grateful his daughter was having a fun time.
He had Skye to thank for that. His mother had said as much.
He toyed with the idea. A simple “Thank ye for planning this day for me daughter.” But then his mother announced the next activity, which Stephen had to participate in.
It was Lily’s doing. She marched right up to Stephen and tugged at his sleeve, demanding in her sweet way that he join in on the fun and games. Stephen was no match for her and quickly agreed.
Dougal did not blame him. Lily was quite a force to be reckoned with.
Everything was fine at first until Skye and Stephen teamed up, resulting in this situation playing out before his very eyes.
Skye’s cheeks were flushed from laughter, dark curls loose about her face. And the easy way she moved, unguarded, her throat bared as she laughed at something Stephen said, made it hard for him to look away.
She looked lovely like this. Dougal hated how much he noticed.
Something ugly and unfamiliar coiled low in his chest. He wanted to march right over there, grab her arm, and pull her away.
How dare she have such a good time with Stephen? How dare she stand there and laugh with another man while he stood there, watching from afar?
And it wasn’t just any man, either. It was Stephen, his man-at-arms and closest friend.
Stephen was not romantically interested in her, of that Dougal was sure, but it didn’t quell the unfamiliar feeling that was spreading its ugly tendrils across his body and taking hold.
He crossed the yard before he’d decided to, catching her eye, and tilted his head toward the shadow of the stable wall. A silent command.
Skye excused herself from Stephen with a lingering smile and followed.
“Ye wanted something, me Laird?” She was still flushed from running, her hair coming loose from its pins.
Dougal’s hand started to reach out, but he snatched it back before it could touch one of those stray curls.
What was he thinking?
He had lost control of himself for a moment there. The unfamiliar feeling was making him act irrationally and was entirely to blame. He would never act like that, otherwise.
He took a deep breath. What he should do was tell Skye what he thought, and she would understand. As his betrothed, she would have no choice.
“Ye laugh easily enough with him.”
Her brow furrowed. “Stephen? He’s yer man-at-arms. He’s kind.”
“I noticed.”
“Alright, so what’s the problem? Surely, ye’re nae… Me Laird, are ye…” She studied his face, disbelief creeping into her voice. “Are ye jealous?”
The words were a slap in the face.
Jealous. Skye was accusing him of being jealous.
He was not jealous. He was never jealous, and certainly not of Stephen sharing an innocent, friendly moment with his betrothed. His fake betrothed.
He had to remember that this was not real. But he didn’t like it.
Stephen wouldn’t do it on purpose, but Skye was a beautiful woman. Maybe he couldn’t help flirting with her.
“I daenae get jealous.”
“Ye look jealous.”
There it was again. Skye insisted that he was jealous when he wasn’t. The lass was spinning tales as wild as the ones she had written about him.
She was mistaken. He was not jealous.
Dougal Grant did not experience jealousy.
“I look like meself.” His voice was flatter than he meant it. “I daenae care for other men flirting with me betrothed. It’s as simple as that.”
“He wasnae flirting with me. He was being pleasant. There’s a difference, though I ken ye’ve forgotten how that looks on a man,” Skye quipped, holding his gaze.
Dougal took it as the challenge it was, whether she meant it or not. She would understand what it meant when she challenged him. She might come to regret it, but there was no going back now.
He stepped closer, close enough that her breath caught, the way it always did. “Meet me tonight. I’ll explain the difference meself, if ye like.”
“That sounds like an order.”
“It is a request.” A pause. “Poorly delivered, perhaps, but a request nonetheless.”
Skye searched his face, some war playing out behind her eyes that he couldn’t name and didn’t try to. Finally, she nodded, short and quick, before hurrying back toward the game.
He had expected her to say no. He had expected her to pull away, shocked and disgusted at what he was saying. But she had done neither.
She looked excited.
Anxious, yes, but the excitement was there.
Dougal couldn’t forget the look in her eyes. It tempted him. Made him want to touch her the way he had touched her the other night.
He watched her go, his jaw tight, cursing himself the whole while.
What was wrong with him?
He never should have made such a request, but she needed to understand what he meant. Skye was going to understand what it meant when she pushed him too far and flirted with other men right in front of him.
It wasn’t something he took lightly.
Eventually, he returned to his study and went straight to the desk, rifling through his papers. He was trying to distract himself and failing miserably. The more he searched through his papers, the louder his thoughts became.
Stephen found him minutes later, grinning like a man who’d seen entirely too much. “Lily’s never laughed so hard at a game. Ye should be pleased. I think ye should make this a yearly event. She loves it so much.”
“I am pleased,” Dougal responded.
If the scowl on his face wasn’t a hint enough that something was wrong, then his flat tone certainly was.
Stephen had known him long enough to push back on it. He was one of the few people Dougal would allow to do such a thing.
“Ye scowl like a man who’s swallowed a wasp. Even yer mask cannae hide it, me Laird.”
“I’m fine.”
Even Dougal didn’t believe the words.
He did not bother to hide what he was experiencing. There was simply no point when Stephen already knew.
“Fine? Is that the story ye want to go with?”
“I am fine,” he ground out.
“Fine, truly?”
He bit back a growl. “How many times must ye ask the same thing, Stephen? Do ye want to push yer luck?”
“Aye, ye look it. I daenae think I’ve ever seen a man look as fine as ye do right now.
” Stephen crossed his arms, entirely too pleased with himself.
“I’ve seen the way ye two look at each other, ye ken.
Might save us all some trouble if ye admitted it.
Maybe Lady Kenna and I should get a betting pool going. ”
Dougal gritted his teeth. “Ye should watch yerself. Stephen.”
“I wouldnae say anything unless it was the truth,” Stephen said lightly. “Ye ken that. However, I was joking about the betting pool. Partly.”
And he was right.
Dougal said nothing else. There was nothing he could say anyway.
He turned and left the study, leaving Stephen chuckling behind him, and did not look back to see if Skye had noticed him leave.
Let Lily have the rest of her treasure hunt in peace. She was enjoying herself, and he didn’t want to take that away from her.
But he was going to speak with Skye later that night. That much he was sure of.
He needed distance from the crowd, if only for an hour. The image of her laughing, head tipped back, slender neck bared, wouldn’t leave him. Neither would the ache it stirred inside him.
It was entirely unwelcome.
A month. It is only a month.
But the reminder rang hollow.
If this was how it was going to be after only a few days, then how was it going to be after a month?
Dougal needed to find her tonight and say what he needed to say. Whatever happened after that was up to the fates.