Page 22 of A Sinful Night with a Scot
Surely, ye saw the men only yesterday.
Indeed, but none o’ them looked like that!
Besides, she had hardly lingered looking at them, for she had been too ashamed at her own state of undress. Now, however, as he waded into the water to plunge his shirt into the river, she gazed at every crevice and line, the dips of which were caused by the solid muscle.
So mesmerized was she, that she had not noticed that Keane had turned to look at her.
“Are ye enjoying the view?” he sneered.
Swiftly, Elsie gasped and dropped her gaze, the feeling of her cheeks blushing once again. It was becoming an all too familiar sensation of late.
“Dinnae look away,” he jibed. “Yer lingering gaze doesnae bother me.”
Gone was his earlier frustration, and his voice was, once again, confident and full of pride.
“I wasnae gazing,” she replied, trying to find any other place to look other than his direction.
“Och, that’s right. Ye were staring.”
She could not help but glance at him, as he stood facing her, twisting the shirt dry in his hands. The action only highlighted the huge boulders on his chest, and as if they had a mind of their own, they lifted and fell as he continued.
“Like ye are now,” he grinned.
“I am nae,” she came back, though why she was denying it was beyond her, for she clearly was.
He started laughing then, which made her smile at her own foolishness. But the smile suddenly fell from her face when, still laughing at her, he held his shirt in one hand, and lifted his plaid with the other, fully revealing his manhood underneath.
“Och, me God,” she cried, disgusted and mortified in equal measures.
Swiftly turning away, and not looking where she was going, she tripped on a raised piece of ground and found herself flying forward into the grass.
The laird’s laughter carried over to her as she felt humiliation swallow her whole for the umpteenth time. Pushing herself up, she spun to retort something, but he had already turned his back to her.
At that moment, her eyes fell to the embankment, where she spotted his boots.
“Two can play games, Laird Mackay,” she hissed.
Running to the embankment, she lifted his boots and ran away again. Hurrying to a nearby tree, she found a branch just above her head height and tucked them in there, before rushing to return to the position she had been standing when she had fallen.
She watched with satisfaction as the laird turned and waded out of the water, flicking his shirt about him to try and dry it even more. He shivered as he slipped it on, and then, grabbing his pants, he dressed himself. It was only when he went to grab his boots, that his brow furrowed.
Watching him look from left to right, Elsie nearly had to cover her mouth to stop a titter escaping. Eventually, realization crossed his face, and he lifted his head to look at her.
“Very funny. Where are they?”
“I dinnae ken what ye’re talking about?” she lied, the smirk dancing on her lips.
“Is that right?” he said, smiling as he walked towards her.
His expression worried her, for he looked far too happy that his boots were missing, and the closer he got, the more nervous she became.
“That’s how ye want tae play it, is it?” he said, coming ever closer.
“Stay away from me,” Elsie said, putting her hands out to protect herself, as though she ever had a chance against a man of his size.
“Why?” he grinned. “What are ye afraid o’?”
He was getting nearer by the second, and Elsie knew that if she didn’t move, she was in trouble. And so, she bolted, running as fast as her legs would carry her. But the laird was not only stronger, he was taller, his legs far longer than hers. In no time at all, he caught up with her, and with one single movement, he lifted her, twisted her to face him, and threw her over his shoulder.
