Page 20 of The Scot Beds His Wife
Not outside his bedroom, in any case.
“I said, shut it!” The earsplitting volume intensified as two of the cattle broke from the rest, veering to the west toward the sea cliff. “I’m warning you.”
The ruckus seemed to spur Trixie on, and she made chase after the two wayward cattle, driving them faster in the direction of the cliffs.
The gunshot startled every living creature in Erradale.
Birds broke from the trees with panicked, percussive wing beats. The mangy Highland cattle started, and then trotted forward with renewed vigor, deciding the wee sheepdog was less of a danger than whatever had created such an explosive sound.
Gavin’s own heart stopped beating and his lungs froze.
Had she just… shot his dog?
Trixie gave one astonished yip, then jumped around and barreled back toward him.
A gray horse plunged from the trees. Astride it, a lanky man with a tam-o’-shanter cap covering his mostly bald pate rode for the errant beasts. Calybrid cut them off from their certain demise and steered them back toward the herd.
Gavin cursed every god he could name as shorter, stockier Locryn also emerged from beneath the graspingelms, and joined Calybrid, whooping and hollering as he drove the cattle east toward the makeshift corral.
His fucking corral. The one he’d fucking built with his own fucking hands.
The number of cattle had to be in the twenties now, Gavin marveled as he thundered closer.
Nay. The word repeated through his thoughts in rapid-fire bursts of denial.She couldna possibly have—
All life-giving breath deserted his lungs in a painfulwhooshas Alison broke from the tree line.
Astride an impressive dark thoroughbred, she loped behind the jostling herd, pacing back and forth and creating the strangest ruckus he’d ever heard, presumably to keep the stupid beasts moving forward.
Gavin’s brain processed the vision before him with stupefied sluggishness. One detail filled his recently evacuated lungs with thick, sea-salted air as he sucked in an uncharacteristic gasp.
She rode astride.And clad in incredibly strange, incrediblytightblue trousers.
His own trousers tightened, as with each distinctive detail he processed, Gavin marked a lamentable redirection of blood from his head.
By the time his gaze traversed her surprisingly shapely calves, to the intriguing way she seemed to be maintaining her mount with her knees, and along the astonishing length of her slim thigh, his mouth was devoid of moisture.
Jesus kilt-lifting Christ.She might not have made the most pleasant of first impressions upon him, but astride a horse?
She was, in a word, magnificent.
Never in his life could Gavin say he’d witnessed such grace. Alison Ross moved like woman and beast were one.Bent low over her horse, her long dark braid matching the mane she’d clutched in her fingers, she veered from the herd and gave chase after Trixie, who sprinted straight for him, her master.
Och, right. She’d just shot at his dog. If he’d not been so entranced, he’d be furious. Calybrid also cantered toward them, as though he’d only just noticed Alison hadn’t quite holstered her gun.
Bewildered, Gavin slowed as she approached. This was certainly not the wilted lass he’d expected to find. This was… someone else entirely.
Eyes blazing like a Baltic tempest, she let her mount dance beneath her as she drew up in front of him, upsetting Demetrius.
Calybrid approached them, placing his steed between Gavin’s and Alison’s like an intercepting arbiter.
“Whit like, Lord Thorne?” he hailed. “What brings ye to Erradale? Are ye after Callum? He’s in the trees somewhere, helping gather a pregnant heifer.”
Gavin struggled to maintain his nonchalant expression. How in the name of KingbloodyJames had this prickly lass managed to recruit Callum Monahan of all people to do ranch labor?
“Nay,” he replied with a friendly smile. “I’m here to check on my new neighbor.”
From a not-too-distant rise, Callum appeared astride his own black steed, and ambled toward them, tapping at a cow’s rump with a long swish of a willow’s tail.
