Page 10 of The Laird’s Sinful Secret

The groaning stopped abruptly. Silence stretched, heavy and somehow ominous.

Moyra’s skin prickled with sudden unease. This was wrong. She should leave, should⁠—

She turned and hurried back down the corridor. The groaning had stopped, replaced by an oppressive silence that made her pulse quicken. Her instincts screamed at her to return to her chamber, to forget what she’d heard.

She’d made it perhaps twenty paces where she heard footsteps behind her—heavy, purposeful, gaining ground.

“Going somewhere, lass?”

Moyra’s heart leaped into her throat. She spun around to find Euan MacLeod emerging from the shadows, his tall frame blocking the corridor. Those steel-grey eyes held no trace of the gentleness she’d seen earlier.

“I was just—” She took an instinctive step backward.

He matched it with one forward, closing the distance between them with predatory ease. “Just wandering my castle in the dead of night? Ending up at my office door by pure coincidence?”

Another step back. He followed.

“I heard a sound,” she said, retreating further. “Someone in pain⁠—”

“And ye thought to investigate alone?” His voice was dangerously soft as he advanced. “In a castle ye dinnae ken, full of men who might nae share me restraint?”

Her back hit the cold stone wall. Euan closed the remaining distance in two strides, his hands catching her arms.

“I was trying to help⁠—”

“By wandering the corridors and knocking on locked doors?” His eyes searched her face, looking for something she couldn’t name. “That’s me office ye were just at, Lady Moyra.”

Her stomach dropped. “I didnae ken that. I was following the sound⁠—”

“A convenient sound that led ye straight tae where I keep information about our defenses, our patrols, our vulnerabilities.” He stepped closer, crowding her against the stone wall, and she felt the heat radiating from his large frame. “Dae ye ken how that looks?”

“It looks like I made a mistake in the dark!” She tried to pull free, but his hands held steady. “These corridors all look the same, and I was following a sound that seemed tae come from⁠—”

“From where?” His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. “Because me office was locked and empty. So where exactly did this groaning come from?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn’t know. The sound had echoed through the stone passages, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. In her confusion and the darkness, she’d simply followed it until she’d reached a door with light beneath it.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, hating how weak it sounded. “The sound... it carried through the corridors. I thought it was coming from that direction, but I could have been wrong.”

“Aye, ye could have been.” Something flickered in his eyes—not quite belief, but not complete disbelief either. “Or ye could be lying tae cover why ye were really at me office door.”

The accusation stung worse than it should. “Ye think I’m spying fer me faither? The same man who sent me away fer me own protection? Who daesnae even ken where I am?” Her voice rose with indignation. “If he had kenned I was imprisoned, he would have come fer me. He would have⁠—”

She stopped, the words catching in her throat as doubt crept in despite her conviction. Three months. Three months of scratches on a cell wall, and no rescue had come.

But that didn’t mean he hadn’t tried. It didn’t mean he didn’t care.

“Me faither loves me,” she said, though the words came out less certain than she’d intended. “Whatever ye think of him, whatever schemes ye believe he’s plotting—he wouldnae use me this way.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken doubts.

“I think ye’re a MacKenzie in a MacLeod stronghold.” His jaw was tight, a muscle ticking beneath the scar on his cheek. “I think yer faither has men in the woods outside these walls. And I think it’s mighty suspicious that ye just happened tae end up at me office door in the middle of the night.”

“Suspicious?” She laughed, the sound holding no humor. “Everything about this situation is suspicious, Laird MacLeod. Including why ye’d rescue a MacKenzie from an English dungeon only tae keep her locked up in yer own castle.”

“I told ye⁠—”

“Aye, ye told me I’m nae a prisoner. That I’m under yer protection.” She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze directly despite the way he towered over her. “But protection and imprisonment look mighty similar when ye’re the one being kept against yer will.”