Page 44 of A Plaid Case of Loving Ye
“I always look like shite.” Ramsay scrubbed his hand over his face, plucking at the leather of the eye patch. “But now, so do ye. Want some food?”
His brother groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Dinnae mention food.”
“Does Cook still make those stewed oysters? Or the pickled radishes in cream?”
Georgehurkedand Ramsay grinned.
“I hate ye,” his brother moaned. “’Tis bad enough I had to smellyeall night—dinnae talk to me about—about—”
George turned green, slapped his hand over his mouth, and stumbled for the door.
Chuckling to himself, Ramsay scratched at one armpit. Ithadbeen a few days since that swim in the loch, and he suspected he needed a bath. Would Nicola appreciate one as well?
Ye did promise to show her the waterfall.
Suddenly, his head didn’t hurt quite so much.
The keep was quiet this morning, with only a few servants moving softly about. Every one of them made a point to welcome him home with a smile, and Ramsay couldn’t believe howhappyhe was to be here.
That happiness was filling his chest as he hurried up the steps—and met Nicola on her way down.
“Good morning!” His smile burst forth as he grabbed her hands. “Did ye sleep well?”
“I…” Her gaze was on his chin, and she swallowed. “Aye, the bed was comfortable.”
“Good.” His grin grew. “’Tis mine.”
“I ken.” She finally lifted her eyes. “I missed ye.”
Well, fook me.
Ramsay’s eye widened as he searched those blue depths, looking for the truth. Was she saying what he thought—what hehopedshe was saying?
“Is Relic—where’s Relic?” he managed to say, his mouth dry with anticipation.
Her lips curled, mayhap a little knowingly. “In the nursery with yer parents’ brood. They cooed over him, and he seemed delighted to be around other small humans.”
Excellent. He’d be safe here. “Would ye like to bathe with me? I mean—” He flushed, feeling like an untried youth. “I promised ye a trip to the waterfall.”
“Ye did.” Her voice had turned husky. “I’d like that verra much.”
They walked. ‘Twas not too far, and Ramsay suspected she was tired of horses. His sword knocked against his thigh as he led her along the forest path, her hand in his.
“Yer mother is delightful,” she was saying, her head tipped back to enjoy the sights and sounds of his woods. “She loves ye verra much.”
“Aye, she does.” He held a branch out of the way and helped her up and over a fallen log. “She has enough love in her heart for ye, as well.”
“I appreciated that she wanted to make me feel welcome for yer sake.”
“Nay.” He stopped her, both hands on her waist, the distant gurgle of the waterfall telling him they were close. “Nay, she did it foryersake. Trust me, Nicola, ye deserve to be cared for, to be comforted. Mother cares for all of us, and now she cares for ye.”
“Why? Because I helped ye regain yer memory?”
With a soft smile, he shook his head and dropped a kiss to her forehead. “Nay, love. She cares for ye, because she can seeIcare for ye.”
Nicola’s eyes widened, and he didn’t like there was surprise in their depths. Nodding firmly, he tugged her toward the stream.
“Och, Ramsay, ‘tis almost too lovely to dirty the waters!”
