Page 161 of The Protective Gryphen

“Aye. That happens here. At least we have provisions. I was going to go out and feed the animals. Can you help me, Gryphen?”

It was clear the man wanted him alone to talk. He was betting it had something to do with his evening’s plans. All Gryphen could hope was that they weren’t screwed up.

There was a lot riding on tonight.

“I can do that.”

When Ian opened his mouth, Graham cut him off before he could offer to help too. Instead, he handed Ian some wood.

“Can you feed the fires in the kitchen and library? The chill will be coming in soon.”

Ian didn’t mind.

“Sure. I’m dying for some water. I need a gallon. I’m dehydrated.”

Gryphen wiggled his eyebrows.

“Drink extra, Ian. I have a feeling you’re going to be even more dehydrated before the night is over.”

Good to know.

If he was talking sex, Ian was down for that. Count him in.

With a kiss, Ian took the wood, and headed into the castle to feed the fires. As he did, Graham lowered his voice so they could talk in private.

“Thank God that I got you alone.”

Gryphen had his fingers crossed.

“Is everything on for tonight?” he asked as they began feeding the animals.

“Aye, Elizabeth is calling at eight to speak to Ian. I spoke to Callen earlier, and she’s going to distract him for twenty minutes. That gives you enough time to get into your kilt and get to the dining area for dinner.”

He had news for him.

“I’m going to need help. I have no freaking idea how to get into that shirt. It’s got strings and ties…”

Graham reassured him.

“I can do that. I’m familiar with getting in and out of one. I’ve worn a kilt most of my life.”

Thank God.

“The dining room is set. I’ll place all the food in there, under domes. You will have to serve unless you want me in your way.”

Hell.

No.

That was the last thing he wanted. He was upping the heat and kink to make a memory Ian would never forget.

“No, I’m good. Trust me when I say you’re not going to want to be in there. I plan on making one hell of a spectacle of myself. If the library is a rocking, REALLY don’t come a-knockin’,” he said.

Graham sighed.

“God. To be Ian.”

He laughed.

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