Page 13 of A Plaid Case of Loving Ye
She’d always thought goat cheese smelled like unwashed stockings, so she scowled at him, despite knowing his arguments were perfectly valid. “If ye love goat’s milk so much, and since she lovesyeso much, why no’ take her?”
“Ye want me to rowandhold the goat?”
Well, nay, obviously not. Nicola blamed the heat—and the fact she’d just spent a few hours in the village in Ramsay’s charming company—for her petulance.
But before she could say that to him, or change the subject, the goat—Marigold—kicked out with her hind legs, catching Nicola in the ribs at the same time she leapt forward. As Nicola cursed again, Ramsay lunged for the goat.
He dropped both oars but managed to catch the animal as she threw herself into his lap. And Ramsay, being Ramsay, began to laugh.
“I suppose Marigold agrees with ye. I’ll take her.”
“Aye, but good luck rowing.” Nicola nodded over his shoulder, trying not to smile.
When he realized what had happened, his curse rivaled hers, and she lost her battle, allowing first one, then more, giggles to escape. When he’d grabbed the goat, he’d dropped the oars. One had tilted precariously but stayed in the boat, while the other was cheerfully bobbing about in the loch about six feet from the boat.
“Well, now what?” she asked as the laughter subsided.
And that’s when he reached for the clasp of his belt. “Take Marigold.”
Her eyes on his hands, she leaned forward and nudged the goat onto the floor of the boat. “If she’s dumb enough to throw herself over the side, then she can swim for shore.”
When the belt fell beside him, the pleats of his plaid loosened about him. She could see the healing wound on his hip.
“She’s a goat, Nicola. Her hooves arenae made for swimming.”
“Then she can drown,” she snapped unkindly. “Whatare ye doing?”
He grinned. “I’m throwing myself over the side to swim for shore.”
When he stood, she slammed her eyes shut with a noise somewhere between ayipand ableat, sounding remarkably like Marigold.
Of course, there’s naeneedto close yer eyes, ye twit. ‘Tisnae as if ye havenae already seen everything he has to offer. He kens he’s big and goldeverywhere, even between his legs…
She groaned, seriously tempted to take another peek. ‘Twould be interesting to see what he looked like when he wasn’t fully aroused.
But then the boat rocked and there was a splash and the sound of him sucking in a sputtering breath. “Fookthat’s cold.”
Ah. So not only had she missed her chance to see him, but he was definitely not aroused now.
“Nicola?”
She opened one eye. “Aye?”
“Toss me the rope. And dinnae let Marigold go over the side.”
Nicola didn’t respond, but merely huffed. Carefully she stood and inched her way toward the middle bench where the goat sat in Ramsay’s recently abandoned seat. She cocked a brow at the animal, daring the goat to do aught as Nicola slowly swung her legs over the bench. Unfortunately, the bow of the little rowboat—and thus the bowline—was farther away than expected.
“Nicola?”
“I’m getting there!” she snapped, leaning forward, willing the boat to cease its rocking.
“’Tis just, ye understand, I’m floating here in the water, freezing my—”
She lunged forward, falling against the bow of the boat. “I have it!”
To her horror, the motion set the boat rocking. Then a hand appeared over the gunwhale and the whole thing tipped farther as Ramsay pulled himself upward.
“Do ye—?”
