tried to use them in whatever dream she was caught up in. He’d awakened her, as he’d promised, and then . . . It had taken every bit of strength he had for him not to push her on her back and have her then and there.
Of course they weren’t far outside the mouth of the cave and the auld women were early risers, so that had fortified his constraint, but just barely.
He busied himself with the fire, letting the heat that the lass had kindled in him cool before anyone else joined them.
“Did you two spend the whole night out here?” Peigi walked toward them from the cave, her gnarled hands on her hips and mischief dancing in her eyes.
“Aye, mistress, we did,” he said, but did not return her smile. He was just managing to get his body under control and he did not need that canny woman reading more into the situation than was true.
“Jeanette, will you check the porridge and make sure ’tis cooked through?” Peigi asked as she walked slowly into the wood. When she came back a few minutes later she was rubbing her hip. “I think ’tis time we turned our work to a little comfort,” she mumbled as if to herself.
Jeanette looked up at the ben, then at the auld woman. “Scotia and I can find heather and sweet grass to stuff the mattresses with this day, so you dinna have to sleep upon the hard ground another night.”
Peigi joined Malcolm where he was still tending the fire and turned her back to the fragile warmth it was at last casting into the chill morning.
“I think ’tis a good idea,” she said, still rubbing her hip as if it ached. “My auld bones do not take kindly to hard rock for a bed. But do not take Scotia. I have another task for her this day. Take Malcolm.” She winked at him, the auld troublemaker. “ ’Twould be good for his arm to do some work. Gathering the heather would not be too difficult for him, would it?”
Jeanette closed her eyes and Malcolm wondered what exactly was running through her mind. Did she wish to be alone with him as he wished to be alone with her?
Holy mother of God. He gripped the plaid about him as a new surge of desire took hold of him. If they were alone amongst the heather— An image of the two of them, naked, twined together amidst the fragrant heather, her skin heated by passion and the sun, filled his mind.
He tried to think of something else but could not. He made sure the plaid draped over him still where he crouched, yet tending the fire that no longer needed his care. He would need to work himself beyond fatigue to keep from reaching for her, kissing her, taking her.
He wiped away the sweat that beaded on his forehead with the back of his hand. Aye, working hard with his arm would be good for it. Working until it was sore might keep him from wanting what the lass had not offered.
“Jeanette?” Peigi said. “Will you and Malcolm stuff the mattresses for me and my sisters this day?”
Malcolm’s mind turned her question into an innuendo and he had to stifle a laugh, even as the image of Jeanette, naked under him on one of those mattresses, took hold—her blond hair spread about her, head arched back in pleasure—made him ache with a need he could not slake.
Jeanette stirred the kettle of porridge, banged the wooden spoon against the side of it, and covered it once more. She looked up the ben again, then slowly nodded.
He could not stop the quiet groan that escaped him at Jeanette’s accept ance. This day would be difficult for more than his injured arm.
Peigi chuckled.
CHAPTER SEVEN
J EANETTE LED THE way up the path they had traveled into the Glen of Caves a few days before, determined to ignore the man who followed her. They each had a large, mostly empty, basket that they carried on their backs. At the moment all that the baskets contained was a little food for their midday meal and a short-handled scythe. They would gather as much heather as they could carry and take it back for the mattresses for Peigi and her sisters.
Of course they weren’t far outside the mouth of the cave and the auld women were early risers, so that had fortified his constraint, but just barely.
He busied himself with the fire, letting the heat that the lass had kindled in him cool before anyone else joined them.
“Did you two spend the whole night out here?” Peigi walked toward them from the cave, her gnarled hands on her hips and mischief dancing in her eyes.
“Aye, mistress, we did,” he said, but did not return her smile. He was just managing to get his body under control and he did not need that canny woman reading more into the situation than was true.
“Jeanette, will you check the porridge and make sure ’tis cooked through?” Peigi asked as she walked slowly into the wood. When she came back a few minutes later she was rubbing her hip. “I think ’tis time we turned our work to a little comfort,” she mumbled as if to herself.
Jeanette looked up at the ben, then at the auld woman. “Scotia and I can find heather and sweet grass to stuff the mattresses with this day, so you dinna have to sleep upon the hard ground another night.”
Peigi joined Malcolm where he was still tending the fire and turned her back to the fragile warmth it was at last casting into the chill morning.
“I think ’tis a good idea,” she said, still rubbing her hip as if it ached. “My auld bones do not take kindly to hard rock for a bed. But do not take Scotia. I have another task for her this day. Take Malcolm.” She winked at him, the auld troublemaker. “ ’Twould be good for his arm to do some work. Gathering the heather would not be too difficult for him, would it?”
Jeanette closed her eyes and Malcolm wondered what exactly was running through her mind. Did she wish to be alone with him as he wished to be alone with her?
Holy mother of God. He gripped the plaid about him as a new surge of desire took hold of him. If they were alone amongst the heather— An image of the two of them, naked, twined together amidst the fragrant heather, her skin heated by passion and the sun, filled his mind.
He tried to think of something else but could not. He made sure the plaid draped over him still where he crouched, yet tending the fire that no longer needed his care. He would need to work himself beyond fatigue to keep from reaching for her, kissing her, taking her.
He wiped away the sweat that beaded on his forehead with the back of his hand. Aye, working hard with his arm would be good for it. Working until it was sore might keep him from wanting what the lass had not offered.
“Jeanette?” Peigi said. “Will you and Malcolm stuff the mattresses for me and my sisters this day?”
Malcolm’s mind turned her question into an innuendo and he had to stifle a laugh, even as the image of Jeanette, naked under him on one of those mattresses, took hold—her blond hair spread about her, head arched back in pleasure—made him ache with a need he could not slake.
Jeanette stirred the kettle of porridge, banged the wooden spoon against the side of it, and covered it once more. She looked up the ben again, then slowly nodded.
He could not stop the quiet groan that escaped him at Jeanette’s accept ance. This day would be difficult for more than his injured arm.
Peigi chuckled.
CHAPTER SEVEN
J EANETTE LED THE way up the path they had traveled into the Glen of Caves a few days before, determined to ignore the man who followed her. They each had a large, mostly empty, basket that they carried on their backs. At the moment all that the baskets contained was a little food for their midday meal and a short-handled scythe. They would gather as much heather as they could carry and take it back for the mattresses for Peigi and her sisters.
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