by Caroline Lee
Nay, lass, all it took was ye teaching him to give up some of the control.
“How about yer mother?” he suddenly asked, reaching for his third piece of meat. “Will she approve of yer new recipe?”
Lara chuckled. “Have ye noticed Mam is a bit on the plump side? She’s been impressed with my recipes ever since I was a wee lassie and was trying new things here beside Cook.”
He grinned. “Aye, I have noticed. But she’s no’ exactly rotund, just nicely curved.” His gaze dropped to her breasts, then lower, and Lara didn’t even mind. “I’m no’ the only one who’s noticed.”
Well, that was confusing. “What?” Had he been referring to her mother, or someone else noticing Lara?
His gaze snapped back up to hers, and to her surprise, he flushed slightly. His attention dropped to the piece of chicken in his hands, and he pretended fascination with it when he blurted, “Yer mother, I mean.”
“What about my mother?” He’d been admiring her mother’s curves?
“Moira’s a fine-looking woman, and I’m just saying—”
Lara slammed the remains of her chicken to the plate. “Ye have been admiring Mam’s bits? Aye, her tits are bigger than most, but she practically raised ye and—”
She noticed the look on his face appeared horrified and it caused her to snap her lips closed, biting down on her reprimand.
“Moira? Me? Nay!” Frantically, he shook his head. “Da is the one admiring her!”
‘Twas time for Lara’s eyes to flash wide. “What?”
“Ye havenae noticed?” Alistair blew out a breath, which was accompanied with a half laugh, half relieved sigh, and he shook his head. “Sometimes, when Da thinks we’re no’ watching, he and Moira share a little smile. And when she’s bustling around, keeping everyone happy at dinner time, ye watch him. He’s watching her.”
Was it true? “Mam’s…a fine-looking woman.”
His grin flashed quickly, teasingly. “Aye, she is. But she’s no’ the one I’m noticing.”
This time, Lara didn’t blush, even though she knew exactly who he was speaking of this time. Nay, this wasn’t the moment to blush, this was the moment to celebrate.
She’d spent years lusting after this man, caring for him, worrying about him, all from afar. She’d even spied on him when he didn’t know it. But now, finally, he was noticing her.
So her heart was even lighter now, when she picked up her piece of chicken once more and smiled in what she hoped was a coy manner, and not a I have something stuck in my eyelash way.
“ ’Tis an interesting proposition that yer father might be noticing my mam.”
“I’m full of interesting propositions.”
“Oh, aye?” She was smirking as she swallowed her bite of the delicious new recipe. “Like what?”
“Like how the sun is stuck up there in the sky. And the best way to rotate crops. And what causes thunder.”
Chuckling, she leaned forward. “I want to hear them all.”
‘Twas the best morning she could ever recall.
Chapter 5
“And where are ye running off to this fine morning?”
The way Lara’s expression lit up with joy when she realized Alistair had been the one to ask, made him glad he’d stopped her. But how could he not? He’d just finished dropping his gelding off at the stables and had been heading across the courtyard when he’d seen her hurrying toward the village with a basket looped over her arm.
Of course he was going to call out to her. Seeing her—seeing her smile—was what he found himself living for these days.
She turned and was waiting expectantly for him, and he was happy to jog over to her. The morning ride had left him feeling relaxed—more relaxed than he’d been a sennight ago—and he smiled when he reached her.
“Good morrow, Lara,” he offered softly.
She tilted her head back, his smile not dimming. “Good morrow, Alistair. Ye’re looking at ease today. Still thinking about my chicken?”
She was teasing him?
Feeling bold, Alistair snagged her free hand, bringing it to his lips there in front of all the clan’s wagging tongues. “Yer chicken was delicious, but ‘tis ye I’ve been thinking about, lass.”
He made her blush, which caused his smile to grow wicked, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she cocked a bold brow as her own lips twitched. “I’ve been thinking about ye as well. And about the menu. And ways to get ye to relax. And the decorations for the celebration. And yer lips. And pigs.”
Her list made him blink, but he didn’t release her hand. My lips? But instead, he cleared his throat and managed, “Pigs?”
“I’m on my way to the village to run some errands. I need to visit the butcher and see what he can offer us in terms of meat.”
Nodding now, and absolutely certain he wasn’t going to miss the chance to spend time with her—even if it did involve pigs, it might also involve lips and ways to make him relax—Alistair moved her hand to his arm and began to stroll toward the gates. As if it were completely natural that he’d take time away from his work to escort her to market.
“Is this for the celebration? I thought ye were planning on chicken for the menu.”
“I’m still considering our options.”
Nodding, he offered, “I’m looking forward to hearing all about them.”
“Really?” She glanced sharply at him, a little furrow between her brows. “Ye want to discuss the menu?”
He shrugged, focusing on taking shorter steps so she could keep up. He didn’t want to rush this, or their time together would be over much too soon. “Why would I no’?”
“Well, ye are so busy, and ye already spent yesterday morning with me.”
And it had been one of the best mornings of his life.
Aye, he was more relaxed now than he’d been a sennight ago, and ‘twas not because of his morning ride. ‘Twas because of her, and the way she pushed him to take time for himself.
“Ye cannae think I’d rather be stuck inside my solar going over charts and maps, than out here in the fresh air with a lovely lass on my arm?”
Another blush, which he found made him feel proud as they strolled toward the market.
“But ye have more important things to do.”
He thought of the correspondence waiting for him on his desk, and of her suggestion to give it to Kiergan to take care of. He thought of the ledgers and household accounts. He thought of the work he needed to do…and he thought of the woman at his side.
“Nay, lass, I dinnae,” he murmured.
The way her steps faltered, the way she tilted her head, just slightly away from him so he could see the tempting line of her jaw, told him she’d been affected by his confession. His lips twitched.
“Hello, Mistress Lara!” came the call from across the market square, and she seemed to remember herself. He watched as she directed her attention toward the plump woman hauling a heavy-looking washing basket.
“Have a good day, Gladys!” Lara called, and when the candle-maker shouted a greeting, she laughingly offered one in return.
Alistair didn’t release his hold on her, which meant she couldn’t wave, but he was amazed by how well she knew everyone they saw. He’d spent years working for these people, his clan, but he wasn’t certain he could name them all. Some, the merchants in particular, he recognized. But Lara knew everyone.
‘Twas remarkable.
“Where are we going first?”
“I have to order cheese.” She tugged him toward a wagon where a board-thin woman was haggling with a customer. Actually, referring to her as a board was an accurate description; the woman was tall and straight, as well as being thin, and looked about as weathered as the side of an old barn. “This is Melba.”
The woman merely glared at Alistair, so he didn’t introduce himself. Instead, he listened to Lara list her order and her explanation for what she planned on using the cheese for at the celebration. Finally, Melba’s dry, stern lips cracke
d, one corner lifting upward, as she inclined her head stiffly.
“Ye’ll have yer order two days ahead of the celebration, lass. I approve of yer choices.”
Lara reacted as if given a benediction from a queen. “Oh, thank ye,” she gasped, offering as much of a curtsey as possible, given she still held her basket and Alistair’s arm. “And I hope ye’re planning on attending the celebration?”
“We shall see,” the old woman muttered stiffly before turning to another customer and allowing Lara to tug him away.
“She was…prickly,” Alistair murmured.
“Melba makes the best cheese in the clan, but ye have to ken how to deal with her.”
“And ye do?”
She shrugged, leading him toward the smithy. “Of course. Who do ye think has been buying cheeses for yer menus all these years?”
Shaking his head, Alistair blew out a breath. “ ’Tis remarkable, lass. I’ve devoted my life to helping these people, but ye ken them so much better than I do. I feel as if I’ve been missing out.”
“Ye have been.” She offered him a little smile, then ducked into the smithy, leaving him to follow, while frowning over her words.
He watched as she haggled with Edward—Duncan and Finn’s stepfather, the smith—over the cost of fixing a kettle’s handle. ‘Twas so simple, but she handled it with such grace and good humor, causing the big man to chuckle a few times, before they settled on a price. She pulled the broken utensil from the basket on her arm, then left both it and the basket with Edward.
In the corner, Alistair’s brother Duncan bent over a smaller anvil, working with a delicate piece of silver. He’d glanced up when they’d come in, his gaze sweeping from Alistair to Lara, then back to his brother again. But he only smiled, nodded approvingly, and went back to his work.
“Thank ye verra much,” Lara said firmly, as she shook Edward’s hand. “Give my love to yer wife and daughters, please.”
“Aye,” the big man—as taciturn as Duncan—grunted, but he nodded politely. Dunc lifted his delicate hammer in acknowledgement, and Alistair waved goodbye as Lara pulled him out into the daylight.
“Now where?”
“The pig!”
He grinned as they headed for the butcher. “Will ye tell me what ye’re thinking?”
She pretended to think it over, but he could tell from her grin she was teasing him. “Nay,” she finally quipped, “I like this side of ye.”
“Och, which side of me, lass?”
Grinning mischievously, she said, “This side of ye where ye give up control. I like kenning ye trust me to make the right menu decisions.”
He trusted her with a lot more than that. But he merely nodded.
And she sent him a naughty wink filled with all sorts of interesting promises. “So ye’ll have to just give up control when it comes to finding out about the pig.”
So he did.
When they arrived at the butcher, Alistair moved to one side, crossed his arms in front of his chest, settled his weight, and watched her. She was a joy to behold, alternately flirting and teasing and haggling with the man. When the butcher pointed to a large three-legged pig—which was happily nosing around in a small enclosure—she shook her head emphatically and waggled her finger at him.
“Dinnae think ye can sell me that hero, John Oliphant! Just tell me what kind of hog ye’ll be able to get for me by next week, and how much ye’ll charge me!”
They quickly reached an agreement, and Lara pulled some coin from a purse on her belt. “This will serve for now. I’ll have to sweet-talk some more from the coffers before we take delivery.”
When she winked over her shoulder at Alistair, the butcher chuckled. “Methinks the lad willnae mind yer attempts at sweet-talking.”
After, Alistair offered her his arm again, then bent his head toward hers as they strolled. “He’s right, ye ken,” he murmured. “I’ll no’ mind yer attempts at sweet-talking.”
“Why, milord!” she gasped, slapping her hand against her chest dramatically. “Ye’re no’ suggesting I use my feminine charms to gain coin? When ‘tis for the betterment of the clan?”
He tugged her to a stop, not caring that they stood in the middle of the market. It felt right to be with her this way, and it felt even more right to hold her. He settled his hands on her hips.
“Since ye refuse to tell me why ye want a pig, I have to assume ‘tis for yer own depraved purposes.”
“Depraved!” Her tone was shocked, but her eyes twinkled as she rested her fingertips on his forearms. “Ye think I would do something naughty?”
Remembering the way she’d touched him in his solar, then told him to touch himself, Alistair suppressed a shiver. “I think I’m learning all sorts of things about ye, Lara. Things I never suspected.”
Her eyes rounded, but he saw only curiosity, and a strange glimmer of hope. “Like what?”
“Like how much I like ye,” he murmured. “When I wasnae looking, ye grew into a beautiful, charming woman.”
Suddenly, her smile flashed. “I’m glad ye noticed. I’ve been noticing plenty about ye.”
His heart began to pound. “Oh, aye? Like what?” He realized her answer mattered more than he’d suspected.
“Like…” She winked, her fingers stroking lightly at the sleeve of his shirt. “Like how much I like ye now that ye’re relaxed.”
I’m relaxed, thanks to her.
“Aye,” she continued. “Ye need time away from yer duties. ‘Tis good for ye. Have ye considered what I said in yer solar?”
Give up control.
Only every night, when he took himself in hand and tried to capture some of the bliss she’d given him.
Wait, nay, was she speaking of something else?
His confusion must’ve shown, because her lips quirked. “About Kiergan taking over the correspondence? ‘Twill be good for him, and verra, verra good for ye. To give up some—”
“Control, aye.” He sighed. “I havenae, but ye are right. He needs this responsibility.”
“And ye need him to have that responsibility. ‘Twill give ye some freedom. Ye need to have time for yerself.”
He was studying her eyes, so changeable. Today they were more brown than gray, and there was an intensity he hadn’t expected.
She cares.
He blinked.
Lara had come to him in his solar. She’d massaged his tight muscles, taught him how to give up control, brought him to an excellent orgasm. She sought him out, made him smile, made him laugh, made him relax…because she cared.
Slowly, his lips curled into a lazy grin.
“I have time to myself now,” he drawled, lowering his chin.
She hummed, dragging her hands up his arms until they were looped around his neck. “And what will ye do with all this free time, milord?” she murmured.
“This…”
His lips brushed against hers, whisper-soft. She sighed against his skin and pushed herself up on her toes, pulling him closer. He loved the way she didn’t hesitate to go after what she wanted. With a grin, he brushed his lips against hers again.
This kiss was deeper, but just as gentle. They took their time exploring one another, and he reveled in her soft sighs.
His cock let him know these sweet and innocent kisses were not at all sufficient, but Alistair swallowed down his arousal. He wanted to growl, to take her, to press her against the nearest building and plunge into her. A woman who kissed him in public like this, a woman who’d commanded him to stroke his own cock was no virgin, but a lass who would meet him thrust for thrust.
But…she was also Lara. Lara, whom he’d watched grow from a gangly lassie to this handful of perfect curves. As much as he wanted her, for now, he would be gentle.
And who knows what might’ve happened, had a shout not broken them apart. They were both smiling when he dropped a kiss on her forehead. Then she turned and acknowledged the greeting with a cheerful wave, as if he weren’t still reeling from her taste.
And ‘twas even more perfect because—despite the bothersome hardness pressing against his kilt, and despite the way he saw her pulse flutter in the hollow of her throat and knew she was equally on edge—she didn’t hesitate to loop her arm through his and smile as if they were just a couple out enjoying a stroll.
He found he very much liked that.
He liked the idea of being able to stroll with her without the threat of hours of work looming over his head. He liked being able to kiss her in the middle of the street. He liked just being with her.
“So, will ye tell me about the pig?”
“The one I want to buy?”
Nay, he’d already accepted she’d tell him about that when the time comes. “The one with the three legs.”
“Hero?” She shot him a surprised glance. “Ye really havenae heard of him?”
“Nay.” He smiled, nodding toward the tavern. “If I promise ye some luncheon, will ye tell me?”
Laughing, she tossed her blonde braid over her shoulder. “Of course!”
“The pig, then? Spill yer secrets, lass”
“All my secrets? Nay!” she gasped theatrically. But then she smiled and began, “His name is Hero. I cannae believe ye havenae heard of him. The Hero Pig of the Oliphants.”
The Ghostly Drummer. The Hero Pig. What is it with the Oliphants and their titles?
“Why is he a hero?”
Her eyes sparkled animatedly as she told the story. “John and his family are living in the back of his shop as their croft is being rebuilt. There was a fire—no’ a terrible one, it didnae destroy it, but it did spread some while they were sleeping.”
Alistair had heard about the fire when it happened. “Aye, I recall diverting some men and materials to help with the rebuilding.”
She nodded eagerly. “Well, all of the children made it out, except for the youngest. John and his wife were frantically looking for the wee lassie…when here comes this pig, trotting around from behind the house, with the wee bairn dangling from its snout by her nappy.”
“The pig rescued the girl?”
Lara shrugged, her lips curled upward, and her eyes twinkling as she told the story. He wasn’t sure if she believed it, or if she just liked the gossip.