by Anna Durand
"Speechless, eh?" Iain said with a teasing lilt. "I'll take it as a compliment and a positive sign."
"You're very sexy, Iain, and I'd love to get naked with you." I took a step back, my shoulder bumping into the doorjamb. "But it's a bad idea."
"You paused before saying it's a bad idea." He pulled the shirt on over his head, and of course, it molded to every chiseled line of muscle on his torso. "That means you want me. And considering how you were dealing with your desire last night, alone in your bedroom, I don't need to be omniscient to see the truth. We'll be naked. Soon. And I'll be buried inside your luscious body all night long."
Heat exploded inside me and scorched over my skin like a wildfire consuming the treetops. My sex throbbed, empty and aching for exactly what he'd promised.
Iain strode to me, took my face in his hands, and hovered his mouth a breath away from mine. "A good-morning kiss?"
My heart pounded, and I couldn't catch my breath. Would he kiss me deeply this time? I needed him to, needed it so badly.
Unable to speak, I nodded.
He pressed his lips to mine, the touch soft and warm. He pressed more firmly, but still he did not take more. I opened my lips, begging for a soul-searing kiss, but instead he took my bottom lip between his teeth and released it little by little.
Without a word, his expression neutral, he stepped back and leaned against the jamb opposite me.
Despite his casual posture, the bulge in his pants—much larger and stiffer than a moment ago—assured me our good-morning kiss had affected him too. I'd loved the feel of his big hands on my cheeks, though I ached to feel them on other parts of my body.
"I'll be in the kitchen," I said, "getting breakfast ready. I hope you like eggs, pancakes, hash browns, and sausage links."
His lips quirked as he raised his brows. "A large breakfast."
"We'll need the protein to power us for the day ahead." I hooked my thumbs in the belt loops of my jeans. "Unless you were lying when you said you'd work for your room and board."
"It was no lie. Whatever you need, I'll do."
"Good." I pointed one finger at his bare feet. "Might want some socks and shoes."
He headed for the dresser and picked up a pair of sneakers.
"Um," I said, gesturing at his shoes, "do you have any boots? I mean something more durable than the hiking boots you had on yesterday. Steel toed would be best."
"Are yours steel toed?" He eyed my sturdy Muck boots.
"Yes, they are."
He dropped the sneakers. "My boots aren't, and I brought only these shoes, the boots I wore yesterday, and another pair of boots that won't be any more appropriate. I wasn't expecting this to be a sheep ranch."
"That's okay. I'll call Ben and ask him to bring an extra pair of boots for you. You guys are probably the same size."
"Ben?" Iain's eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, and his jaw tensed. "You have a—boyfriend?"
I tried to suppress my laugh, which turned it into a wet snort. I must've misread his facial expression, because the Unflappable Iain MacTaggart did not get jealous. Back in college, when everyone realized I was spending a lot of time with the hot Scottish professor, jealous boys had hit on me in hopes of ticking off Iain. The tactic never succeeded. Iain didn't care if they marched right up to me when I was standing beside him and asked me out on a date. Maybe he'd been certain I'd reject the idiots, which I did, but he could've shown a little irritation about it.
The closest he'd ever gotten to jealousy was when he'd told a particularly persistent young man, "You're interrupting our lunch, laddie."
Naturally, Iain had spoken those words in a calm and unperturbed tone.
Iain of the present day shook off whatever it had been and gave me his trademark relaxed smile. "He's not your boyfriend, is he?"
"No. Ben is my ranch hand. Part-time. I can't afford full-time help."
Iain's chin lifted a touch. "Good thing I'm here, then."
Okay, I was confused again. Did he feel the need to outperform Ben in the ranch-duties department? No, that implied jealousy again. I must've been interpreting his actions based on my own desire for him to at long last show some real, raw emotion.
I shook my head and tromped downstairs with a sock-clad Iain close behind.
"You're in luck," I said as we reached the bottom of the stairs. "You got here in time for the big event."
"What event?"
I slapped his arm. "Deworming day."
Chapter Six
Iain
I clasped my hands over the tip of pitchfork's handle, one foot braced on the metal tines, having stopped in the middle of cleaning out a horse stall. Rae's mare, Sunny, had nuzzled my face for a good minute before she ambled outside to leave me to my task. The smaller horse, Ariel, belonged to Rae's daughter. I still had that stall to clean.
Gazing out over the stall's half door, through the barn, I could see Rae and her ranch hand engaged in an animated discussion. Rae grinned and touched Ben's arm. He smiled in return, shrugging.
Rae threw her arms around Ben.
My spine snapped straight. I squinted at the pair outside, at the way Rae hugged him fiercely and—
I ground my teeth. She'd just kissed him on the cheek, then finally took her arms off the young, blond Viking.
Ben hunched his shoulders, his gaze averted, and shambled off in the direction of the paddock beside the barn. Rae and Ben had gathered the sheep into the paddock while I toiled inside the barn. She'd chosen him to assist her but kept me out of sight. Though she claimed Ben was not her boyfriend, I had my doubts.
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 nostri
ls. 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."