Page 50 of The Lass Defended the Laird (Explosive Highlanders 2)

Their eyes met and held while he closed them inside. “How are you feeling?” He asked and prowled to the foot of the bed. Tall, his dishevelled appearance indicated he had worked about the estate in his daily tasks.

“Almost myself, I should say.” She answered, closing her book and placing it on the nightstand.

A nod came from him as he unwrapped his tartan from his broad shoulders, to fit it to his waist. “I have just gone to the nursery.” Long fingers started unbuttoning his wrinkled white shirt, not missing her fixed attention on him. The reddish light from the hearth licked every inch of skin on show. As he pulled the garment up his head, his magnificence took her breath away.

“Ewan is still a bit out of sorts.” She volunteered.

He sat on the bed to pull out his boots and hoses, dishing her with the view of rippling back muscles, strong nape, and tapered hips. As he stood up, he turned to her. “Yes. But is keen on playing outside.” The information came while he approached the chest of drawers with a wash basin on it.

A moistened cloth in hand, he set out to wash his shaved jaw. Her hands tingled to be doing his washing herself and relish on the bunches of taut flesh.

“He will have to postpone this for a few days.” Her satin voice gave off other messages.

Old-whisky eyes lifted to hers when the lucky cloth travelled down to his hair-peppered chest. “More than that, I reckon.” The happy cloth regaled one masculine nipple with cleaning. “I alerted the servants they are not to mention your presence here.” The other nipple received enviable attention.

She had got no chance of considering the particulars of her and Ewan’s permanence in the manor so far. And the hiding in what had been her own residence once. “Sensible.” She opined.

“We are to lie low for the time being.” The deep voice provided extra pleasure to the cloth tracking down six-packed abdomen to the navel where the tartan cruelly curtailed its progress.

“And then what?” That fortunate cloth dipped back in the basin to came out anew.

“We will see.” He dismissed, with the merry cloth sliding along a steel shoulder and biceps.

“Hm.” But her stare glued on him washing the other arm.

As the smug washing device plopped in the basin, hazel eyes strolled sedate back to his. Molten currents rushed between them. “If you insist on looking at me like that, I will forget you are recovering.” The hoarse admonishment was nothing short of a vow.

“Promise?” She taunted while valuing this piece of daily life with her husband.

“Merciless lass.” He devolved, meaning he could do nothing about it at that moment.

On the bed, he leaned on the headboard. Those biceps pulled her to sit on his lap. “What have you been reading?” He inquired while his fingers combed through her loose hair which had been drying after she washed it.

“Poems by Anne Hunter.” Came her reply before she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I did not remember to send this one to the cottage by the loch.” The comment came accompanied to his lips wandering along her temple. “I know you like her.”

“I did not have time to do much reading there, anyway.” A hand moulded to his neck as a thumb caressed his square jaw.

A tense strong hand rubbed his nape. “Damn Ross.” He muttered.

“Hard day’s work?” She changed the subject, unwilling to dampen the evening.

That strong hand found hers on her lap and entwined with it. “Not so much.” His other arm held her closer. “Mostly caring for the livestock.”

“I talked to John today.” She began. And repeated to him the conversation. “I believe he is deserving of a reward.” Her fingers played with his chestnut hair. “He proved to be essential to my plan.”

Her auburn strand rolled around his finger. “I agree.” After a short pause. “I will call him to my study tomorrow.” She burrowed closer to him.

A sigh escaped her full lips, and he snapped his gaze to her weighing eyelids. “Time for bed, Morair Chat.” He advised before tucking both in the sheets.

She fell asleep holding him close without knowing he kept awake watching her for hours.

“What do you suggest we do?” Lachlan cut down to it when Wallace brought it up.

Drostan sat at dinner next evening, his brothers and father with him. He spent most of the previous night awake as his mind whirled restless. They needed to find a solution for his family’s problem. It did not count that when winter set in, few people would be around and Freya and Ewan would be presumably safe. What about until then and after then? This situation required he deal with it upfront.

“This worm is not worth a war.” Fingal added.

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