Page 12 of A Plaid Case of Loving Ye
“Nay, Nicola.” His tone was teasing. “The pain is all in my ears. Constant pain from yer nagging and—”
She reached down beside her into one of the sacks of supplies they’d purchased in the village and pulled out a sweet bun, which she hurled at his head.
It bounced off his browbone and he cursed as he dropped the oars and grabbed for it. The goat kicked her again and Nicola sat upright once more.
Ramsay was scowling at her as he bit into the rescued bun. “I would’ve been cross had that gone in the water,” he said around a mouthful of treat.
Since the damned goat’s flailing legs struck heryet again, Nicola scowled right back as she grabbed ahold of the animal’s ankles. The damn thing was clearly unhappy about being stuck in a boat, and she did her best to keep the animal calm, even if it meant pressing her elbow into the heavy, pendulous, and slight squishy utter which reminded her uncomfortably of Sister Mary Titania.
The nuns need a new source of milk. Try to remember that.
She huffed. “Iamcross that ye insisted on rowing.Ishould be rowing, and ye should be back here wrestling with this bloody stupid thing.”
“Marigold?” Ramsay pretended surprise as he leaned forward to feed the rest of his bun to the goat. “She’s no’ stupid. Are ye, sweetheart?”
The goat—just like wee Relic, just like the nuns, just like every single woman and half the men they’d met in the village—was half in love with Ramsay, and thus bleated adoringly at the man.
“See?” Nicola muttered, settling back against the stern of the rowboat which was slowly returning them to the convent of St. Dorcas the Ever Petulant. “Ye should be back here cuddling with her. Ye’d both enjoy it.”
Ramsay grinned as he settled the oars back into their places. “And force ye to row? Ye’re alady.”
“And ye think I’m no’ strong enough to row a wee distance?” ‘Twas a bit more thanwee, but she was feeling out-of-sorts.
He merely shook his head and pulled on the oars, his skin shining with a faint sheen of sweat in the afternoon sun. “On the contrary, I think ye verra strong. But ye’re a lady, and I’m a—well, I dinnae ken what I am, no’ exactly. But I ken I cannae allow a woman as beautiful as ye, as capable as ye, waste yer strength rowing me about.”
He thought her capable?
He thinks me beautiful?
She was flattered by both compliments and tried not to show it. “Ye and the goat.”
“Och, aye, of course. Marigold is a burden.”
When his grin flashed, she found herself flushing.
Wee Relic and the nuns and the village women arenae the only ones half in love with this charmer, are they?
Nicola was smart enough to recognize the truth, although she knew she wasn’tin lovewith Ramsay. Nay, not at all. She was merely…infatuatedwith the man. She’d seen him mostly naked, after all. She’d stared at his erect member. She’d smelled his musk, touched his skin, shivered at the way his gaze could cause her breathing to quicken.
Either she had the ague—and as a healer, she very much doubted that—or she was experiencing lust. Och, aye, having five sisters—one of whom had written an entire book describing one hundred coital positions—was handy sometimes.
She swallowed, trying not to be too obvious about the way her gaze caressed his gleaming shoulders, or lingered on the stubble on his chin. He was a beautiful man, aye, and one she could admire. One shehadadmired, often, during the last few days.
She’d been invited to St. Dorcas the Ever Petulant to tend to those who needed her help, and her days had been filled. Not only was there Lady Helen Douglass and the accident-prone nuns, but for the last few days there’d been a steady stream of visitors and patients who’d needed attention. Even today’s journey to the village to pick up supplies so poor Sister Mary Influenza didn’t have to do it, included Nicola stopping to visit some of the sick who couldn’t make the journey across the loch.
Aye, she’d been busy, and through it all, there was Ramsay. He’d been given a bed in the infirmary, but now she’d cleared him for activity, he was rarely there. But he—and the bairn—became a common sight around the convent, doing various chores. And at mealtimes they sat together, as the only two full-time non-holy-folk on the island. It made sense, but Nicola had become used to his presence, his teasing, the way he made her feel a little breathless with his nearness, and she realized no matter what she was doing, she looked for him.
Sometimes he’d be singing to wee Relic, whom he’d lay out on a blanket near his work, and sometimes he’d be alone…but always grinning as if at a private joke.
A small part of her—a very small part of her, she told herself—hoped the reason she saw him grinning was becauseshewas there.
The verra small part ye’re referring to is, of course, yer clitoris, aye? When ye lie in yer bed at night and think of him and touch yerself—
Thankfully, the goat chose that moment to kick her again, and her breath whooshed out with a curse.
“Relic doesnae even need this damned beast anyhow!” she muttered, trying to adjust her hold on the goat. How much farther did they have to go?
Ramsay took another pull on the oars, his strength sending the little boat skipping through the water. “Ye cannae think the babe is the only one who enjoys goat’s milk? Thank Christ I didnae have to milk the last disagreeable creature, but I spent my share of time dribbling milk into his wee mouth afore he decided he was auld enough to eat mashed food, and I ken plenty of the nuns prefer it to water. And the cheese is good.”
