Page 24 of Her Tempting Traitor
He was glowering so intently that he missed the approach of the other man until Doctor Butcombe called cheerfully, “Good morning, Cassian! Heading out for a morning stroll?”
Och, aye. The veterinarian.Hunter. Was he the only one who could see the irony?
The man had insisted they’d be fast friends and thus should call one another by their Christian names…the same way the man’s sister had done, come to think of it.
Nay, ye’re no’ thinking of her any longer, remember?
Thoughts of the way Gabby Butcombe felt in his arms had kept him up most of the night, as it was. Or rather, his cock’s opinions about how she’d felt in his arms had kept him up.Literally.
Stop thinking of fooking the man’s sister while ye’re greeting him, eh?
Cassian forced a wan smile. “Good morning. I am looking for Gus. Is he in the stables?”
Hunter blinked, and even went so far as to glance over his shoulder. “The stables? I dinnae ken, I havenae been out there yet this morning. The laddiedoesseem tae make himself at home among the animal stalls, so it’s a good guess.”
The veterinarian hadn’t been out to check on his charges yet that morning? Cassian mentally shrugged. Perhaps morning check-ups weren’t necessary with animals. Or perhaps Hunter just wasn’t a very good veterinarian.
With a nod he began to move past him, but Hunter still seemed inclined to chat. “I’m on my way to breakfast, I hope there’s bacon. Nothing prepares a man for the day ahead like bacon, am I right?”
Since this was said with an attempted nudging, Cassian couldn’t help but remember Sir Richard’s claim but moments before. Thinking to save the other man from a fate he had been unable to avoid, he warned, “Our hosts are breaking their fast?—”
That was as far as he got before Hunter paled. The blood drained from his face and he stumbled slightly and reached for a credenza that was home to one of Zilphia’s magnificent floral arrangements.
“Sir Dickie—he’s in the breakfast room?” Hunter rasped.
Cassian’s lips twitched into a frown as he studied the other man. What a strange reaction to one’s patron. “Aye. I imagine he’d want to speak to ye about his elephant.”
“His elephant,” the other man repeated weakly, his knuckles white against the dark wood of the table. “Aye. The elephant is doing…well.”
What in the hell?Cassian kept his expression clear of the suspicion he was feeling. “Och, well, I only thought to warn ye because Sir Richard and his wife are in there…canoodling.”
Hunter’s brows shot up. “Canoodling?”
“Completely kayaking,” Cassian deadpanned. “One might go so far as to say they’re punting a barge or rowing a boat up the River Lochy. It put me off my food.”
To his surprise, Hunter breathed a sigh of relief, then burst into laughter. Straightening, he slapped Cassian on the shoulder. “Well, ye cannae blame a man for his urges, eh? I suppose I could do without bacon this morning.”
Nodding solemnly, Cassian began to back away. “That was my thinking.”
Damn, the other man was following him still, that too-friendly smile on his face. “Ye have to admire such dedication, although it is a little alarming to watch.” He fell into step beside Cassian as they made their way toward the front alcove, chatting as if they were old friends. “Our aunt and uncle are like that, ye ken. Cannae keep their hands off one another, even after all these years.”
Really? There weretwomarried couples like that in Scotland? Cassian tamped down on his shudder.
His non-committal grunt seemed to be all the encouragement Hunter needed to continue. “Our uncle has quite a few friends who are the same way. We meet yearly for Hogmanay—we call them uncles and aunts and cousins, since we all grew up together—and we’ve become quite used to clearing our throats loudly before we enter any rooms as a protective measure.” His guffaw seemed too loud, too forced, as he slapped Cassian on the shoulder again. “We got an education at a young age, I’ll tell ye!”
What in the hell was going on?
This man was acting as if he were Cassian’sfriend. As if they were the type to share confidences and memories!
Perhaps he’s just gregarious, along with being no’ a particularly good veterinarian.
But all of Cassian’s instincts told him Doctor Hunter Butcombe was trying a little too hard.
And he’d learned not to ignore his instincts. So although he didn’t knowwhyHunter wanted to appear to be his friend, he needed to remove himself from this situation.
With an abrupt nod, he stopped before they reached the front door. “I will see ye later in the day, I am sure.”
Without waiting for an answer, Cassian turned and marched—slowly, deliberately, watching his fooking steps—down the corridor toward the back of the large house. He’d slip out the doors in the salon. Fresh air. That’s what a healing man needed.
