Page 47 of The Speed of Lightning
Scratching sounded at the door and she burst to her feet, streaks of dirt smudging the white of her chemise. “Someone’s at the door!”
Thankful that someone, anyone, had come to save her, she rushed to the table, yanking her plaid from beneath his armor and sending his things clattering to the floor.
“Wait, lass?—”
Not waiting, she wrenched the door open—and was immediately bowled over by a massive, furry black shape. She threw up her hands as the beast landed on her, slobbering across her face while its whip-like tail drummed against her knees.
Calum lunged, but the animal dodged aside, and he came down squarely on top of her in a most compromising sprawl. Her face blazed hot, and she yelped. He scrambled off her as if scorched. The intruder, a hulking wolfhound reeking of the outdoors, wobbled to Calum and leapt at him next, plastering his face with licks as its tail lashed the air.
“Och!” Calum wrestled to keep the dog’s slobbering jaws from his face.
Freya scrambled up and threw her arms around the beast’s neck, trying to pull him back. “Come, laddie, that’s a lad.”
The hound bounded toward her in a frenzy of wagging, and she darted around the bothy, clambering onto a chair to escape him. Snatching a strip of dried meat from a shelf, she held it aloft. “Sit!”
The dog’s hindquarters hovered uncertainly above the floor. She tossed the meat, and he snapped it out of the air before lunging toward her again. “Ack—no. Sit!”
This time he planted himself down. “Stay where you are.”
The beast regarded her with eyes hooded by shaggy gray tufts arched like eyebrows, a questioning look creasing his brow as a long strand of drool stretched toward the floor. She lobbed another piece of meat, and he caught it neatly.
Calum pushed to his feet. “Not the venison, MacSorley.”
Rolling her eyes, she dangled another strip before the hound. “I’ll make you more.”
His mouth twisted. “You can smoke venison?”
“Aye. Cannae every lass?”
“I dinnae ken. I’ve never had a lass before.”
The dog barked, and she lifted a finger. “No, no. That was verra naughty. Patience. Now—what are we calling him?”
Calum folded his arms across his bare chest, bewildered. “Calling him? We’re no’ keeping him.”
Another string of drool stretched toward the floor. She tossed the hound a morsel. “We cannae turn him out.”
Calum’s brows arched, his eyes narrowing. “How no?”
“Look at him. Skin and bone, the poor beggar.”
A look of crumpled absurdity crossed his face. He lifted his hands in annoyance. “He’s a wild beast, used to hunting his own food. The more we feed him, the more dependent he’ll be. And you’re still recovering. Get down before you fall again.”
Looping her arms around his neck, she let him lift her down to the floor. She went straight toward the hound, brushing aside his sensible warning. “He’s black all over. What about Blackie?”
Calum grunted and cast a look at her bare shoulder peeking from beneath her plaid. “What about Spoiler—since he’s spoiled all my fun?”
She tugged the plaid and chemise higher over her shoulder, rolling her eyes though a smile twitched at her lips.
“What about Rescuer?”
He patted the dog’s back, a cloud of dirt rising into the air in the already filthy bothy. “How about Bog since that’s what he smells like?”
She burst out laughing at Calum’s look of disgust, while the hound licked the air with eager devotion in his direction. “Bog? What do ye think Boggy-boo? Do ye like that name? You do,don’t you? You do?” She tossed him another scrap of venison, and his grey-streaked brows shot up in what looked like delight.
Poking around the shelves, she unearthed a basket of eggs and a pot of butter, then set a pan over the fire.
“What are ye about now?” Calum demanded.
