Page 57 of The Laird’s Sinful Secret

“I ken that.” She finally met his gaze, finding nothing but understanding in those grey eyes. “Me mind kens it. But me body—sometimes it forgets. Sometimes I wake up and I cannae breathe because I’m certain the walls are closing in.”

His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, the touch grounding her in ways words couldn’t. “How often daes this happen?”

“Most nights.” The admission made her want to crawl under the blankets and hide. “Sometimes I can go back tae sleep after.

“Ye’re a woman who survived three months of captivity that would have broken most men twice yer size. Having nightmares about it daesnae make ye weak, Moyra. It makes ye human.” His voice hardened with something that might have been anger, but not at her.

The words settled over her like a balm, easing the shame that had been eating at her since she’d first started having those nightmares. He didn’t think her weak or broken beyond repair.

He thought her human.

“What can I do?” he asked, and the genuine concern in his voice made her chest ache. “Tae help ye. What would make the nightmares less powerful?”

Moyra’s gaze drifted to the window where pre-dawn light was just beginning to touch the sky. She thought of open air and the sound of running water, of space that didn’t press in like a tomb.

“I need tae remember that I can see the night sky if I want tae,” she said quietly. “That there’s nay ceiling above me, nay walls pressing in. That I’m free tae walk outside, tae breathe air that isn’t stale and thick. That I’m nae trapped anymore.”

Understanding flickered across his face. “The garden.”

“What?”

“Me maither’s garden. The one with the stream.” He stood, pulling her gently to her feet with that easy strength that always made her pulse quicken. “Come with me.”

“Euan, it’s barely dawn⁠—”

“Exactly. Which means most of the castle’s still asleep and willnae see their laird wandering the corridors in his nightclothes with a lass in hers.” His hand wrapped around hers, warm and solid and reassuring. “Besides, I’ve a feeling ye’ll nae get back tae sleep otherwise.”

He was right. The nightmare’s claws still dug into her psyche, and the thought of lying back down in that dark chamber made panic flutter in her chest. But the garden… that might help.

Moyra let him lead her through quiet corridors, hyperaware of how small her hand felt in his, how his loose shirt revealed glimpses of scarred skin with each movement, how improper this all was and how little she cared.

When they reached the garden door, he paused. “Wait here a moment.”

Moyra watched him stride back down the corridor, his broad shoulders disappearing around the corner. She heard quiet conversation—Euan’s deep rumble and Catriona’s lighter tones—then he returned alone.

“Come.” He pushed open the door, and cool night air rushed in to greet her.

Moyra didn’t wait for further invitation. She stepped into the garden and immediately tilted her face toward the sky, drinking in the sight of stars still visible in the pre-dawn light. Open space. Fresh air. No walls pressing in.

She could breathe out there.

Behind her, she heard Euan moving around, heard the rustle of fabric. When she finally turned, she found him spreading thick wool blankets on the grass beside the stream, creating a nest of sorts.

“Sit,” he told her, gesturing to the makeshift bed. “Before ye freeze in that thin nightshift.”

Heat that had nothing to do with cold crept up her neck as she realized how little she was wearing—just the nightshift and a robe that did almost nothing to protect her modesty. But Euan’s eyes held only concern as he watched her settle onto the blankets.

When he sat beside her, she immediately shifted closer, seeking his warmth without quite meaning to. His body heat cut through the cool morning air like a blessing, and she found herself acutely aware of every point where they nearly touched—his shoulder inches from hers, his leg close enough that she could feel the heat radiating through the fabric of his breeches.

“Thank ye,” she said quietly, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. “Fer this. Fer nae making me feel foolish about the nightmares.”

“Why would that make ye foolish?” He kept his gaze fixed on the stream, but she saw the tension in his jaw. “Everyone has demons, Moyra. Yers just happen tae be more literal than most.”

The acceptance in his voice loosened something in her chest. She watched the water rush past, eternal and soothing, and felt some of the nightmare’s grip finally release.

“Has me faither continued sending letters?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.

Euan’s jaw clenched harder. “Dinnae worry about that.”