Page 6 of Rehabbing the Beast
Quinn smirked.
“Still, it sounds lovely. I believe I could do with a turn on the lake. Mayhap we can do so after we make our visits today.”
Siobhan watched Quinn as they carefully labeled the morning’s work and packed the various herbs, salves, and extracted oils into hand-woven baskets to take into town. The leftovers were carried down into the cold cellar they used for storage. The unfinished underground room stayed a constant, dry fifty-seven degrees Fahrenheit all year round, ideal for storing dried herbs and roots over the long winter months.
“Is it Malcolm MacDougal’s son, Rory?” Siobhan inquired later as they sat in the sturdy little rowboat, drifting beneath the clear blue sky and cotton-candy clouds. “I’ve seen the way the boy keeps stealing glances at ye when yer not looking. I daresay, the lad’s huge, and ye do ken what they say about a well-hung Scotsman.”
Despite not wanting to encourage her grandmother, Quinn couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up. “No, Gran, do tell. What do they say about a well-hung Scotsman?”
“Why, he can cross a girl’s eyes with his stamina and skill, o’ course.”
Quinn giggled again, then looked at Siobhan with mock thoughtfulness. “Do you think he really is, you know, endowed? I mean, he wears his jeans awfully snug, and you would think if there really was something there it would be noticeable...”
“Och, ye are a wicked, wicked lass,” Siobhan said, feigning shock. “’Tis what makes us so alike, I’m thinkin’.” Then she grinned and winked. “But if he is anything like his grandfather, then aye, he is well-endowed indeed.”
Quinn gasped, even as she laughed. “’Tis the problem with those cursed denims,” Siobhan lamented sadly. “’Twas far easier to discover a mon’s secrets when they were proudly unencumbered beneath his kilt.”
The laughter of the two women echoed across the lake.
