Page 22 of Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides 8)

“Yer very responsive, lass,” he murmured, repeating the act.

“I’m sorry, m’laird.” Dwyn sighed the words and ran her hand swiftly over the goose bumps that his action had given rise to on her arm.

“Do no’ apologize. I like it. A lot,” he added in a near growl, and another shiver slid through her. He noticed, of course, and a purely male grin curved his lips.

Shaking her head, Dwyn whispered so that no one else would hear, “I do believe ye’re a very naughty man, m’laird.”

“Naughty?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And why is that?”

“Because ye ken what ye’re doing to me, and not only persist, but ye’re enjoying it,” she said at once.

Her honesty seemed to catch him by surprise, and Geordie stared at her briefly in silence before reaching down to slip his hand under the hem of her skirt to clasp her ankle lightly. “And what am I doing to ye, lass?”

Eyes widening, Dwyn glanced anxiously around. Much to her relief, no one appeared to be looking their way.

“Hmm?” he murmured, letting his hand glide up to her calf under the gown.

Dwyn reluctantly turned her gaze back to him. But her breath was now reduced to short, shallow gasps as his touch sent warm heat gliding through her, and she couldn’t have answered him had she wished. Instead, she bit her lower lip, and simply stared at him helplessly.

“Would that I could bite that fer ye meself, lass,” Geordie growled, his gaze focusing on her bottom lip as he let his hand drift up to her knee.

Dwyn released her lip at once, but was wishing he could too. She was wishing she could allow him to continue running his hand up her leg as well, but was aware of the women around them, and put her hand down to clasp his through her gown, preventing it from moving farther.

“I think,” she began, but paused as Jetta suddenly appeared at the edge of the plaid they sat on.

“Geordie Buchanan, I know you are not taking liberties with Dwyn out here for anyone to see.” Jetta’s words were hushed to prevent anyone else hearing, but grim for all that, and Dwyn peered at her with alarm.

“Oh, nay, he was—”

“About to unwrap her feet to examine them,” Geordie interrupted calmly, his hand sliding out from under hers to clasp her calf and draw her leg out so that she sat with it now straight.

“Oh, aye. I am sure it was her feet you were thinking of unwrapping,” Jetta said with a snort of patent disbelief. But she dropped to her knees on the blanket and smiled at Dwyn, and said, “Stick both legs out straight, Dwyn, so we can have a look. ’Tis probably better not to sit with them curled under ye like that anyway—’twill cut the blood off to your feet and they need the blood to heal.”

“Oh, aye.” Dwyn uncurled the other leg from under her so she sat with both legs straight. When Jetta began to unwrap her left foot while Geordie did the right, she pressed her hands to the plaid behind her and leaned back on her arms as she watched.

“They look better today,” Geordie commented as he got the linens on her right foot unraveled. “But it might be good to let them have some air while we sit here in the sun.”

“Aye,” Jetta agreed as she finished with the wrappings on Dwyn’s left foot and examined it, then the one Geordie had unwrapped. “It might allow them to scab up, and speed the healing along.”

“How is she? Are they healing?”

Dwyn glanced up with surprise, and shielded her eyes from the sun as she peered at her sister Aileen.

“Do ye think she’ll be able to dance at the feast tomorrow night?” Una asked, joining them.

“It is looking like she may, and hopefully letting her feet air in the sun will help,” Jetta said cautiously. “We shall have to see.”

“Oh,” Aileen said with concern. “But we are done gathering the flowers. At least, I think we are. I was just coming to ask if ye thought we had enough.”

Dwyn turned to glance toward the cart they’d brought with them as Jetta did, and felt her eyebrows rise. The cart was pretty much full of flowers. There was more than enough to cover the great hall floor, she was sure.

“Aye, ’tis more than enough,” Jetta said.

“I’ll take her back to the keep on me horse. There is no room in the cart for her now anyway,” Geordie pointed out. “We can sit in the gardens once there so that her feet can enjoy the benefit o’ the sun.”

Jetta relaxed and began to gather the used linens. “’Tis better I put fresh linens on when I rewrap her feet anyway. Rory says reusing bloodied linens can infect the wound.”

“Help me gather our flowers, Aileen,” Una said, bending next to Jetta to begin collecting the flowers they’d gathered. “That way Geordie and Dwyn can take the plaid to sit on in the garden.”

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