should get to know her. Perhaps she was snobbish, too silly, or superficial. Further, she believed she’d come from another time, which might mean she was insane, at the least. But he kept hoping she’d merely gotten hit on the head and couldn’t remember why she was truly here. Such a God-awful thing to hope for.
He rolled out of his bed, shaking himself free from the straw, although none was on him. His mother had given him many a quilt and plaid to lie with, to keep him warm and free from the straw poking at him. He’d kept a bucket full of water to wash in, and did so letting the too cold water both soothe and invigorate his tense body. Yesterday’s run should have worn any stress out, but he woke feeling restless and...well, randy. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this was a fine mess, and making it worse he suddenly realized that when Fleur had been close to Rory, Duncan couldn’t recall her once looking at the laird’s younger brother with anything much other than polite curiosity. Duncan couldn’t help but wonder if she might...
Just as he was finishing brushing his teeth, he heard a quiet slap of a door being shut. Glancing through one of the windows in the barn, he saw Fleur, dressed in, what he could only guess was, one of his mother’s old black kirtles, and flying away at a quick gait. The sight of her in a dress...Lord, the image went straight to his cock. Yesterday, he’d enjoyed the view of her legs, something he’d rarely seen amongst women. However, he could only imagine her upper torso under that too-large black coat of hers. Until now, that was. She wore a white shift tucked into that boned kirtle, enhancing her breasts, forcing her décolleté to be seen. Suddenly, she stopped, twirled around, and ran back into the house. In a second she returned with one of his black coats wrapped around her thin shoulders, making her look so tiny with it reaching almost down to her knees. He liked her wearing his coat. He liked it a lot.
Then she took off, jogging, toward the east and back to Cave Smoo, he guessed. Without thinking, Duncan rushed out of the barn and after her, thanking God he’d had the foresight to put on his boots and even to have them laced. He decided reconnaissance would be for the best—to follow her, mayhap not approach, but to merely see what she was about.
And that wasn’t perverted at all.
Lord.
As he reconsidered his plan, to let her know he was following her, she hiked her skirts a little and began to run faster. A lot faster. It was hard to keep up with her actually. He admired her for running as fast as she could in thick skirts she held with firm fists at her sides. Before long he was puffing and beginning to sweat, then she sprinted toward the Geodha Smoo, and he realized they’d gone farther faster than he would have thought.
He slowed and tried to catch his breath as he saw her dip to the shore and trudge her way to the cave. Wanting to catch his breath before he approached her, he took his time, walking slowly and lifting his arms to try to get the air to stop spastically going in and out of his lungs.
That was when he saw a small figure jump down to the beach and begin to follow Fleur. Several scrawny shadows scurried down to the cave.
Shite, it was a band of orphan lads who had been thieving around the area. With so many men dead from Cromwell, and many a woman as well, the orphans had risen to levels no one knew what to do with. Gangs had escalated in the last year at an alarming rate, but what’s more they were getting better and better at organization and burglary.
Duncan didn’t waste any more time, but loped toward the cave the fastest his legs would move. At the yawning mouth of the hollow he saw about a dozen young men, couldn’t be more than ten and three years of age, all clad in worn, dirtier-than-hell plaids and all staring inward at Fleur.
“...all boys, so I had to learn how to defend myself.” He caught the tail end of something Fleur said to one
He rolled out of his bed, shaking himself free from the straw, although none was on him. His mother had given him many a quilt and plaid to lie with, to keep him warm and free from the straw poking at him. He’d kept a bucket full of water to wash in, and did so letting the too cold water both soothe and invigorate his tense body. Yesterday’s run should have worn any stress out, but he woke feeling restless and...well, randy. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this was a fine mess, and making it worse he suddenly realized that when Fleur had been close to Rory, Duncan couldn’t recall her once looking at the laird’s younger brother with anything much other than polite curiosity. Duncan couldn’t help but wonder if she might...
Just as he was finishing brushing his teeth, he heard a quiet slap of a door being shut. Glancing through one of the windows in the barn, he saw Fleur, dressed in, what he could only guess was, one of his mother’s old black kirtles, and flying away at a quick gait. The sight of her in a dress...Lord, the image went straight to his cock. Yesterday, he’d enjoyed the view of her legs, something he’d rarely seen amongst women. However, he could only imagine her upper torso under that too-large black coat of hers. Until now, that was. She wore a white shift tucked into that boned kirtle, enhancing her breasts, forcing her décolleté to be seen. Suddenly, she stopped, twirled around, and ran back into the house. In a second she returned with one of his black coats wrapped around her thin shoulders, making her look so tiny with it reaching almost down to her knees. He liked her wearing his coat. He liked it a lot.
Then she took off, jogging, toward the east and back to Cave Smoo, he guessed. Without thinking, Duncan rushed out of the barn and after her, thanking God he’d had the foresight to put on his boots and even to have them laced. He decided reconnaissance would be for the best—to follow her, mayhap not approach, but to merely see what she was about.
And that wasn’t perverted at all.
Lord.
As he reconsidered his plan, to let her know he was following her, she hiked her skirts a little and began to run faster. A lot faster. It was hard to keep up with her actually. He admired her for running as fast as she could in thick skirts she held with firm fists at her sides. Before long he was puffing and beginning to sweat, then she sprinted toward the Geodha Smoo, and he realized they’d gone farther faster than he would have thought.
He slowed and tried to catch his breath as he saw her dip to the shore and trudge her way to the cave. Wanting to catch his breath before he approached her, he took his time, walking slowly and lifting his arms to try to get the air to stop spastically going in and out of his lungs.
That was when he saw a small figure jump down to the beach and begin to follow Fleur. Several scrawny shadows scurried down to the cave.
Shite, it was a band of orphan lads who had been thieving around the area. With so many men dead from Cromwell, and many a woman as well, the orphans had risen to levels no one knew what to do with. Gangs had escalated in the last year at an alarming rate, but what’s more they were getting better and better at organization and burglary.
Duncan didn’t waste any more time, but loped toward the cave the fastest his legs would move. At the yawning mouth of the hollow he saw about a dozen young men, couldn’t be more than ten and three years of age, all clad in worn, dirtier-than-hell plaids and all staring inward at Fleur.
“...all boys, so I had to learn how to defend myself.” He caught the tail end of something Fleur said to one
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