“I can, and I will.” Padraig was trying to remain focused, but Searrach’s mouth was moving along his jaw, and now down to his neck. Some physical comfort would be welcome after such a trying day.
“How?” she murmured against his skin. Padraig opened his mouth but then closed it again, remembering almost too late Lucan’s warning about enemies and allies.
“I will,” he repeated.
But she didn’t press him, only hummed against his skin while she pulled away the placket of his shirt and kissed his chest.
“We might enjoy each other’s company either way then, aye? Let me tend your wounds in a more pleasant manner.”
Padraig scraped together his meager reserves and took hold of the woman’s shoulders, stepping from the reach of that seductive mouth.
“I doona think it’s a good idea that we…have that sort ofrelationship.”
“Sounds like aught that haughty Beryl would say. Were you hoping I was her?”
“What?” Padraig winced and pulled the ties of his shirt from her grip. “Nay.” He moved to a chair to sit and takeoff his boots.
“Everyone’s seen you watching her,” Searrach continued, coming to sit in the other chair at the small table. She rested her chin on one fist and leaned toward him, her breasts propped on the tabletop and straining at the underdress. “Already, there’s talk. Surely you expected it after you demanded her to your service. But you’re a fool if you think she’ll bed you.”
Padraig paused in his actions and looked up at her sideways. “I’m nae tryingto bed Beryl.”
“Well, that’s fine, then,” Searrach soothed. “Since she’s already spoken for.”
Padraig kicked off his boots. “Nae my concern.”
Spoken for by whom?
“It’s nae surprising, really,” Searrach continued. “Him thinking he’s so high-and-mighty, and Beryl the same—Lady Hargrave’s little French pet. The rumor is she got in trouble with a man in France and had to stay behind to bear the bastard. It wasna a full day after you’d come before she had lured his prissy self with that doona-touch-me manner of hers. Made for each other, they are.”
Padraig sat back in his chair with a sigh, as if he was bored with the conversation.
“Sir Lucan, you mean.”
“Aye, Sir Lucan. I heard them myself in her chamber while I was coming back from fetching bolts of cloth for that coo, Rynn.”
“Is that so?” he asked in a bored tone.
“I couldna help it. Ihadto pass her chamber. I heard them speakin’ that ugly languageto each other.”
Padraig swallowed. It had to have been when Lucan foisted Padraig off on Rolf. And not long after that, Beryl had deigned to finally appear. It had obviously been Lucan who had convinced her to come—Padraig supposed he should be grateful.
“What Sir Lucan chooses to do is nae concern o’ mine. Beryl is only servingme as a maid.”
“As am I,” Searrach said with a mischievous grin. “But in a much more enjoyable…positionis my hope.”
Suddenly, the passion Padraig had had to fight for the Scotswoman across from him was no longer there. His head ached; he was tired, and a little angry with Lucan, although he was not ready to explore the reason why just yet.
“I’m going to bed, Searrach,” he said, and then added, “alone, for tonight.”
Her pout deepened, but only for a beat of time. “Verra well,” she conceded. She got up in a fluid motion and seemed to pour herself across the space separating them to lean into Padraig. Her hand caressed the front of his trousers. “I’ll be back on the morrow,Master.” Her hand cupped him firmly and then she pulled away, strolling to the door barefoot and without so much as a wrapper against the chill. In a moment she had unbolted the door and was gone.
Beryl andLucan. Already.
Padraig recalled their meeting in the foyer, the way Lucan had reached out and grabbed Beryl’s arm. And then, later, the way she’d spoken to him in this very chamber, demanding his attention; the casual way he’d regarded her. Casual because they were no longer strangers?
It was fine, he toldhimself. Fine.
He didn’t know Beryl. She was a beautiful woman, that was all. A woman with manners of the sort that Padraig was not yet used to. A woman with manners of the sort that Lucan Montague appreciated. After his life on Caedmaray, Padraig was only taken with Beryl because she was a novelty. And because she was helping him.
