Page 27 of Kilty Plea
Scowling, Flora shifted her gaze to his shirt, where—aye—therewasa big wet spot. Defensively, she pushed herself away from his chest and finished wiping her mouth. “’Tis no’ so bad.”
“I had a dog once, as a lad, who drooled like that when he slept. Of course, I rarely let him sleeponme, but ye do a fair—”
She smacked his arm to halt his teasing. “A gentleman is no’ supposed to notice when a lady does something like that.”
“What? Drool? How about fart? Can I notice when ye fart?”
“Ladies dinnae fart.” She sniffed haughtily and sat straighter. “We release cute little pink puffballs.”
“And sweat?” She could hear the teasing in his voice.
She’d never been a lady in her life. “We dinnae do aught as coarse assweat, Sir Hunter. We glisten.”
He snorted, and she felt her lips twitch as well.
“Well, lass, guess I dinnae have much interest inladiesthen. Spoiled twits, mostly, concerned only with fashion and their husband’s wealth. Some are cruel, many ready to cuckold their husband when he’s away at battle.” Payton lowered his head until his mouth was even with her ear. “And they never, eversweat.”
Flora swallowed. “I-I am a crofter’s daughter, Sir Hunter. I sweat.”
He inhaled, deeply. Was he…was hesniffingher?
“I do too, lass. I’m nae gentleman.”
The way he said it sent little shivers down her spine.
“And Flora?”
“Aye?” she breathed.
“I noticeeverythingabout ye.”
Oh.
Well.
It almost made drooling all over him worth it.
Soon enough, he announced they were approaching MacIntyre Castle, and she forgot the tingles on her spine from his touch. Well, not-quite-forgot, because he was there, a constant presence at her back and in her mind…but she sat up straighter and began to look around in excitement.
As they passed each crofter’s hut, she peered about, looking for signs of Lenny. When they reached the village where passing MacIntyres greeted the laird’s son with shouts of welcome, she craned her head, hoping for a glimpse of a tow-headed lad.
When they crossed into the castle bailey, she couldn’t help slumping against Payton’s chest in disappointment.
“Easy, lass,” he murmured, even as he directed the horse toward the stables. “If he’s here, we’ll find him. I swear.”
The vowdidcalm her racing heart. That, and the knowledge he understood her so well.
But all of that calmness went right to shite when he lifted her down from the horse, tucked her hand in his, and headed for the main steps. Because standing on the steps, leading up to the large door, was a woman.
Nay, alady.
She was small—almost as small as Flora herself, and covered head to toe in a beautiful cloak of deep red, with white fur at the collar. Her hair had once been dark, but was now streaked with gray, and she was beaming at them as if they were the answer to her prayers.
Nay. Not atthem.
At Payton.
“My mother,” he murmured under his breath as he led Flora forward. “Brace yerself.”
