by Anna Durand
Had she ever said he wasn't her lover? No, I'd suggested he wasn't her boyfriend and she'd agreed, but he could still be her lover. The man she fucked.
My jaw ached, and I realized I'd been grinding my teeth harder. Rubbing my jaw, I forced myself to take several long, slow breaths. Nothing had gotten me this agitated since before I met Rae more than a decade ago. Too many years of feeling adrift on a stormy sea had changed my outlook on life. After years of practice, I'd become rather adept at maintaining an even keel.
Yet here I was, glaring at a man because Rae had hugged him.
Outside, Rae turned and headed for the barn.
I returned to my task, determined not to let her see my reaction to Ben. I stabbed the pitchfork into a pile of manure, but the clump broke into smaller pieces and I couldn't scoop them up.
"That's not how you do it," Rae said. "You have to slide the tines under — "
"I bloody know how to do this."
"Jeez, you're snippy all of a sudden."
Sighing, I leaned the pitchfork against the wall and met Rae's gaze. She had her arms crossed atop the stall's door.
And she was smiling. A closed-mouth little smile that suggested she'd discovered one of my deepest secrets.
Not that it was a secret. I was failing rather spectacularly at concealing my jealousy.
Her eyes sparkled with humor when she said, "What's your deal with Ben? You've been snippy with him ever since I introduced you. He did bring you boots, the good kind with steel toes, and he's letting you keep them."
"I thanked him for that."
"Mm-hm. Right before you started giving him the evil eye." She flashed me a sly smile. "Maybe you're laying a curse on him. You are an archaeologist, you'd know all the good old curses."
"Ahmno cursing anyone." I stabbed my fingers through my hair. "Ahmno an archaeologist either, not anymore."
She watched me for a moment, her expression unreadable.
I cleared my throat and scratched my neck.
"Since we're all working together today," Rae said, "you'd better figure out how to get along with Ben. He's a real sweetie, you know. What is your problem with him?"
Ben was a sweetie? She'd never called me that.
"He's after you," I said.
She clamped her lips between her teeth while little snorting noises emerged from her nostrils. Her eyes sparkled again with a humor that had begun to annoy me.
Like a typical man, I reacted in the least appropriate way.
I stomped to the stall door, inches from Rae. "Why did ye kiss him?"
"Who?"
"Ben. The laddie ye keep touching and hugging."
Rae stared blankly at me for a second, then burst out laughing. "He proposed to his girlfriend last night, and she said yes. I was congratulating him."
I grumbled and kicked at the dirt floor of the stall, my focus on the clods I set free — and waited for her to order me to vacate the premises.
A click drew my attention to the stall door.
Rae had unhooked the latch and swung the door open. She waved for me to exit.
My shoulders slumped, I trudged out into the main area of the barn.
She closed the stall door.
I headed for the main door.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
Halting a good two meters from the main door, I half turned to glance at her. "To pack my bag and leave."
"What?" She hurried to me, settling a hand on my arm. "After everything you said yesterday and this morning, you're giving up because you assume I'm screwing Ben?"
"Either I leave or I'll wind up skiting my fist on his jaw. He seems like a decent lad, and I donnae want to come between — "
"Oh, shut up, Iain."
I jerked my head back, considering her with a new appreciation. The Rae I'd known years ago wouldn't have told me to shut up. I quite liked the new, fiery version of Rae Everhart.
She took hold of both my upper arms and tugged me until I rotated toward her. "I invited you to stay until next Saturday. Do you think I'd have done that if I was sleeping with another guy? Ben is my friend and my ranch hand, nothing more."
With those words, and the stern but earnest look on her face, she stole the wind from the sails of my jealousy. More than that, she slashed bleeding holes in the sails. I dropped my head, exhaling a heavy sigh, and scrubbed my face with both hands before I dared meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, Rae. I've behaved like the ersehole I apparently am."
"You're no asshole," she said, her hands lingering on my arms.
"An arschgeige, then."
She wrinkled her nose. "What language is that? Gaelic?"
"German. I thought you might prefer a more exotic term for the kind of dunderhead I've been today."
"Okay, dunderhead I can agree with." She moved back, creating a gap between us I didn't care for at all. "But you are not an asshole."
I fought the urge to haul her into me and ravish her mouth. The lass had always triggered my most primal desires, but I had resolved to seduce her gradually, tenderly, not like a rutting buck. If I didn't kiss her soon, kiss her the way I'd wanted to since first seeing her yesterday, I really would turn into a bloody fucking arschgeige.
Rae was smiling again, dimpling her cheeks. "It's nice to know the Unflappable Iain MacTaggart does flap a little now and then."
"Unflappable who? Ye cannae mean me." If she knew my thoughts, she wouldn't call me such a thing.
"I do. The Unflappable Iain MacTaggart is what I've always called you in my head." She stuffed her hands in her pants pockets and rocked back on her heels. "You never get upset about anything. I've always liked your equanimity, but sometimes, I really wish you'd express a stronger emotion."
"Saying I love you isn't strong enough?"
"Not when you say it in that easygoing voice and smile that Buddha smile."
I couldn't help chuckling. "Buddha? I'm no pacifist."
My burning need to batter her ranch hand proved as much.
"No," she said, "but you've got the inscrutable, serene smile down pat."
I couldn't decide if that would help my cause or hurt it. Never had I met a woman who dreamed of going to bed with the Buddha. The serenity she saw had come at great cost and been borne out of necessity. Did she mean it when she said she wished I'd show a stronger emotion? If I let loose the full force of my desire for her, would she want it?
Considering the way she'd devoured me with her gaze this morning, I had a feeling she might.
Or maybe it was a desperate hope.
Either way, I needed to keep her thinking of me, of us, naked and hungry for each other.
I wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her into me, forcing her to slant her head back to look at me. "Donnae worry, sunshine. Ahm planning to show you very strong feelings."
With one thrust of my hips, I made my meaning clear.
She sucked in a wee breath, her eyes widening for a fraction of a second.
I let my hand wander down to her buttock, cupping it possessively.
"We have work to do," she said, though the hitch in her voice told me she hadn't forgotten about our encounter in the guest bedroom earlier.
"I'm yours, sunshine. Command me."
"Stop calling me sunshine. It's a silly pet name."
"Maybe it is." I trailed a fingertip down her cheek. "But you always blush when I say it."
Rae wriggled out of my grasp, smoothed her shirt, and lifted her chin. "It's time to deworm the sheep."
Then she spun on her heels and stalked out the door.
I followed, admiring her bonnie erse even as I wondered how one dewormed a sheep.
The answer became clear a few minutes later when my humiliation began.
Anything for Rae, I reminded myself over and over. Anything to win her.
*****
Rae
Who knew deworming sheep could turn into great entertainment? Maybe I
shouldn't have found humor in Iain's plight, but the man had brought this on himself. Ben and I had both offered tips and assistance. Stubborn as ever, Iain had refused our help. That explained why he was currently flat on his ass on the ground, scowling at the sheep that milled around him sniffing and baaing at him. His hair had gotten severely mussed — it looked good on him, though — and his clothing had gotten smeared with dirt and grass and a good dose of manure.
I'd given him five sheep to wrangle. The rest of the flock hung around in the adjoining, small pasture where I kept them at night. The pasture connected to the lean-to shed attached to the back of the barn that provided shelter for the flock.
"Why couldn't ye give me one at a time?" Iain called out, his squinty gaze aimed at me.
"Sheep don't like to be separated from their flock." Standing at the paddock fence, on the outside of the enclosure, I folded my arms on the top bar of the wooden fence. "You said you wanted to do everything the way I do."
Oh yes, his stubbornness and male pride had gotten him into this debacle.
Ben, standing a few feet to my left, spoke to Iain over the fence. "Rae offered to catch the sheep so all you'd have to do was hold on to them one at a time."
I smiled brightly at Iain. "When I do it, I get all twenty-five sheep in there with me."
"Yeah," Ben said, "she wrangles 'em like a pro."
"She is a professional," Iain growled. He clambered to his feet and dusted himself off as best he could. "The pair of you could try a wee bit harder not to laugh at me."
I shook my head. "We offered to help, and you said no."
He turned in a circle, eying the sheep with an almost wild expression. "I can do this."
"You're flapping again, Iain."
The harried Scot flashed me a sardonic, twisted-mouth look.
"Flapping?" Ben asked, his brow furrowed.
"It's a private joke."
"Private?" Ben smiled with knowing satisfaction. "You like him. A lot."
I pretended a sudden interest in the grass at my feet, kicking at it with the toe of my boot. "We have history, that's all."
"A history of you being in love with him?"
The humor in his voice made me snap my head up. "I — None of your business, Ben."
My friend-slash-employee chuckled and resumed watching Iain flounder.
Was I in love with Iain? Years ago, I'd thought I was. So much had happened in the intervening years, and I hardly knew the man who'd barged back into my life yesterday. I could not fall for him after less than a day. Even if he made me feel good. Even if he was gorgeous and sexy and totally adorable when he tried in vain to snag a sheep.
Iain lunged at a sheep, but the woolly girl dodged him. He lost his footing and fell face-first onto the ground. Splat. The Unflappable Iain MacTaggart lifted his dirty face and bared his teeth at the sheep around him.
He sprang up and lunged at another sheep.
Sproing. The sheep evaded him with a sideways hop.
The Scot stumbled and fell to the ground on his ass. Whump.
I couldn't stifle my laugh. "Sure you don't want some help?"
"Rae's an expert," Ben said, struggling to repress his own laughter.
"You're both laughing at me," Iain said, slapping his palms on the ground. "The little fuckers are slippery."
"We're not making fun of you," I said. "You're being unreasonably stubborn."
"Aye, maybe I am." He bent his knees to rest his wrists on them. A sheep sniffed his cheek, and he gusted out a sigh, his head drooping.
Oh, poor Iain. How could I let him go on suffering? After ten minutes of struggling with the sheep, he'd had enough.
I climbed over the fence and landed in the paddock on both feet. Wending my way between the sheep, I reached Iain and offered him both my hands.
He accepted them, and I gave him a little support in getting up.
A smear on his cheek caught my eye, and I instinctively tried to wipe it away.
Iain shied away from the touch. "I think that's sheep shit."
"Probably is." I lifted the hem of my shirt, spat on it, and used the wet fabric to wipe the smear off his cheek. "There, all better."
His gaze had veered to my chest, where my bra was now exposed because I'd raised my shirt high enough to get it to his face.
In a soft voice, he said, "Do ye lift your shirt for every man who gets sheep shit on his face?"
"No." I dropped my shirt, tugging it make sure it covered everything again.
"Only for me?" he said with a hint of a smirk.
"Ben doesn't get manure on his face."
Iain sighed, but it came out more like a growl. "He's an expert at catching sheep, is he?"
"Thought you weren't jealous of him anymore."
"Ahmno jealous."
"Whatever you say." I patted his chest. "Relax, Ben doesn't get as dirty as you are because he lets me catch the sheep."
No doubt about it this time. Iain growled.
He stepped back, spreading an arm wide. "Have at it, mistress of the sheep."
"I'm a shepherdess, not a mistress."
"Haud yer wheesht, and catch the bloody little fuckers."
"I have no idea what you're telling me to do first, but the sheep part I got."
With those brawny arms barred over his chest, he said, "It's simple. 'Haud yer wheesht' means keep your lovely little mouth shut." His attention swerved to my lips. "Or I'll keep ye quiet mah own way."
His way? That involved teasing me with chaste kisses he somehow turned into erotic play. If he planned on kissing me deeply this time, I might keep yammering just to make him do it.
"Are you two gonna deworm the sheep or what?"
Ben's hollered question ripped me out of my fantasy of Iain ravishing me with a bone-melting kiss.
I glanced around. "Where's the drenching gun?"
"No bloody idea," Iain said. "I dropped it somewhere."
With an effort to remain casual and relaxed, I meandered among the sheep until I spotted the drenching gun on the ground. The big syringe featured a bent metal tip for administering the deworming liquid. I'd loaded the syringe, but Iain had insisted on doing the job himself.
I returned Iain, who hadn't budged an inch. "Got it."
He grunted, his gaze on the sheep.
"Sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have let you run around flailing at my sheep for so long."
One of the sheep nuzzled Iain's palm as if apologizing for being so difficult to wrangle. He grudgingly scratched the critter's chin.
"Making friends?" I said.
"Surrendering is more like it. They won the battle."
"Hold this," I said, handing him the drenching gun.
I approached sheep nearest me, slowly, and took the animal's jaw in my hand while exerting the lightest pressure to lift it. My other hand on the critter's shoulder kept her from backing away.
"Good sheepie," I murmured. "That's a good little sheepie. It's time for your medicine, that's all."
Swinging one leg over the sheep's back, I straddled her. To Iain, I said, "Bring me the drenching gun. And try to channel your inner unflappable nature."
With amazing calmness and ease, considering the debacle moments ago, he approaching the sheep and me, handing over the drenching gun. I slipped the tip into her mouth and injected the deworming liquid.
Iain gave me an appreciative nod. "You make it look easy."
"Experience is on my side."
"You catch them, and I'll squirt the medicine into their mouths."
I released the sheep, and she scampered away. "Sure you're up for this?"
"Aye."
We treated the rest of the flock together with no more incidents. Iain even started calling them "sheepies" and whispering foreign phrases to them. I was pretty sure he'd called some of them "gràidh," but I couldn't decide if I should be offended by that. When I'd brought in the last five sheep, Iain had set his hands
on his hips and studied the animals with a crease deepening between his brows, right over his nose.
After a moment, he waved a finger at the sheep. "These ones look different."
"Bonus points for the Scot," I said. "You noticed the different breeds. The very woolly sheep are Delaine Merinos, great for harvesting fine wool. These guys are East Friesian. They're dairy sheep, which means they produce good milk. I also get some wool from them."
"I see." He scratched his chin. "Not sure I understand what you do with them, but I see they're different breeds."
We released the flock into the pasture, and Iain had just turned away from the field when he got nudged by a large body. He stumbled forward, caught himself, and spun around.
His eyes flew wide. He stumbled backward this time, straight into the paddock fence. "What the bloody fuck is that?"
My llama, Lily, edged closer to inspect him face to face. The top of her head was only a couple inches below the top of Iain's. She stretched her long neck to sniff his nose.
Iain held stock-still, eyes still wide. Barely moving his lips, he muttered, "What is this thing?"
"Oh come on," I said. "You must've seen a llama before. Lily's sweetie. And look, her eyes are almost the same color blue as yours. No wonder she's smitten."
He rotated his eyes to glance at me without moving his head.
I took pity on him and shooed Lily away. The llama trotted off to join the flock.
The big, strong man huddling by the fence slumped against it. "Ye could've warned me."
"About Lily? I forgot. We put her in the barn while we're deworming the sheep." I walked to Iain and patted his arm. "Ben must've let her out. Sorry she scared you."
He straightened and rolled his shoulders back. "Not scared. That creature surprised me."
Okay, I'd let him get away with claiming surprise.
After we, with Ben's help, completed the rest of the tasks for the day, the three of us sat on the porch sipping tea. Iain and I occupied the porch swing while Ben had taken one of the two padded chairs. Iain had chosen to sit at the opposite end of the swing from me, leaving a gap of a couple feet between his, and I couldn't decide how I felt about that.
Ben set his tea mug down on the floorboards of the porch. "Think you two can handle this place by yourselves while I'm gone?"