Page 33 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
“Love.”
“Drink.” He smirked. “Brilliant guess, though.”
She rolled her eyes and let out a cheeky sigh, lifting the bottle to her lips and tipping it back slowly to her mouth. Her eyes squeezed shut as the liquid burned down her throat. She coughed and covered her mouth, shaking her head in disgust. They laughed together.
“All right, all right, let me try again.”
She thought a few moments longer, still not noticing that her decolletage was bare, and Caelan savored the view meanwhile.
“Windows?” she guessed, hope in her eyes.
“Spot on,” he said.
He watched her clap her hands once, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled widely. Perhaps the warmth of the mead was getting to her, too. Caelan knew he wouldn’t get another riddle, but he wanted to keep seeing her enjoyment.
“All right, try me once more.”
He caught the excitement in her tiny movements at his request.
“All right, but ye’ll be drunk by the end of this one at this rate.”
“I can handle me mead. Dinnae worry, lass.”
“What goes out black and comes back white?”
“All right, all right, surely I can get this one,” Caelan encouraged himself, to her amusement. “Coals!” he cried, sure he had it this time.
“A good answer, but nae the one I’m lookin’ for.”
He took a swig of mead and went back to thinking, trying not to let her beauty distract his thoughts this time. He rested his forehead in his hand, hiding her stunning looks from his eyes. When she giggled, he almost had to look up, to catch the beauty of it, but he resisted.
“An oil lamp!”
Rosaline howled with laughter, and he was on the edge of his seat, hoping for a win.
“Another great guess, but still nae the right one, Laird Sinclair.”
“Oh, I give up, me mind’s got nay more guesses.”
“Take yer drink as punishment, and I’ll tell ye the answer.”
“Aye, Me Lady.”
He took a sip and moved a little closer, pretending to be excited to hear the right answer, leaning in, in case he missed the whisper.
“A cow on a snowy winter mornin’.”
They laughed together, thoroughly relaxed now by the mead, allowing small touches to land on one another’s arms and legs, letting this new closeness between them simmer.
“All right, Lady Rosaline—for ye willnae be Lady Rosaline much longer,” Caelan declared, swallowing a burp as it threatened to burst from his lips. “I may nae be good at riddles, but me talents lie in other areas.”
He closed the distance between them, inching forward until his knees brushed her thigh. Rosaline dipped her chin and gave a soft smile. He rested his hand right next to her buttocks, supporting his weight as he leaned in.
“Apart from slayin’ assassins and outridin’ huntsmen?” she asked playfully.
“Those are two of me best, but me real skill lies in a third area.”
“And what might that be, Laird Sinclair?”
