“If ye keep yer skirts down where they belong, the wind cannot get beneath them.” The way she filled out the strange clothing disturbed him—in both a good and bad way. Such trappings were not a part of this time. If she planned to stay here, she should set them aside. The thought of her leaving disturbed him worse than the clothing revealing entirely too much of her lovely arse.
She yanked the dress back down over her leggings with a stomp of one foot. With a threatening scowl, she jabbed a finger at the center of his chest. “If I keep my skirts down where they belong, the wind won’t be the only thing that won’t get underneath them.”
Lore a’mighty.That most certainly was not what he had meant. His aching man parts demanded he fix this. Now. Gray stood and moved toward Trulie, grateful when she didn’t move away. “Ye know I meant no disrespect. ’Tis just...” Words failed him as he waved a hand toward the lower half of her body. How the devil could he put it without fanning her ire?
“Be careful what you say,” she said with a toss of her head. “You don’t want to dig that hole you’re in any deeper.”
Aye. She spoke the truth of it there. He closed his mouth and scrubbed a hand down his face. His cock roared its disapproval. How the devil had they gone from love play to sparring in just the blink of an eye?
He surrendered by lifting both hands in the air. “Forgive me,mo chridhe.I meant no slight to ye. Please know I would never treat ye with disrespect. I swear it.”
The stiff set of her shoulders softened with the apology and a forgiving smile curved her lovely mouth.
Thank the gods. Maybe there was hope for a bit of afternoon pleasure after all. He eased forward, pulled Trulie closer, and pressed his forehead against hers. “Can ye forgive a backward Scot who fails to understand yer new ways?”
Her soft giggle bubbled between them. “Yes.” She leaned back and slid her hands up and cradled his face. “And I am sorry too. I should not be so quick to judge.”
He bent and found her mouth. Enough talking. Time for pleasure.
She stiffened in his arms, then jerked a step away from him. “Did you hear that?”
He bit back a groan. Now what the devil had gone astray? Were the Fates determined to turn his bollocks blue? Gray tipped his head to the side and listened. Animals rustled in their stalls. A hoof occasionally stomped on the hard-packed earth. “I hear nothing,mo luaidh.’Twas more than likely one of the horses ... or mayhap Rory tending them.”
She took another step back. A faraway gaze filled her eyes as she lifted her face and listened. Turning in a slow circle with her head cocked to the side, her cheeks reddened as she listened. “No. It is not the horses or your stable guard. There is someone else...” Her voice trailed off as she closed her eyes.
What the devil had she heard? Concern washed across him like a bucket of icy water. He had seen that look before, on Tamhas’s face when the old man received a disturbing vision. He strode out of the stall and scowled up and down the dimly lit dirt aisle running the length of the stable. He saw naught amiss.
Trulie shot out of the stall, looped her arm around his, and pulled. “Come on. We have to get the horses out of here. Now!”
“What say ye?” Gray planted his feet.
The alarm flashing in her eyes flooded a rush of adrenaline through him. He reached out and steadied her. “What the hell are ye saying? What did ye hear?”
She fidgeted back and forth while nervously glancing all around. “I heard—” She jerked her head from side to side and frowned. “Never mind what I heard. There is going to be a fire. We can’t waste any more time. I promise I’ll explain later.”
Fire. The word shot through him like fast-acting poison. Memories of the last fire twisted through his gut. Spurred to action, he shoved her toward the outer door. “Out. Now. I will tend to the animals.”
She yanked free of his grip and stomped deeper into the stable. “I’m going to help you. Now, come on!”
“For once, will ye listen?” He charged forward, scooped her up, and flopped her over his shoulder. From what she said, he had no time to reason with her, and he damn sure was not going to risk losing her to a fire.
“Rory!” he roared as he plowed through the stable.
She rained punches across his back and shoulders, squirming in his grasp. “P-put me down! D-damn you, Gray. I am going to make you sorry if you don’t put me down.”
Gray snorted out a bitter laugh. He knew the best way to handle a hysterical woman—ignore her until she realized he was right. “Rory!” he shouted again as he stepped outside.
“Aye?” A man the size of a well-fed bear gimped forward with a rolling, uneven gait. “What say ye, my chieftain?”
“Call the lads and make haste. Turn out all the horses. Not a single animal must be left in the stalls.” Gray shifted Trulie more solidly across his shoulder, grateful that she had stopped pummeling him when Rory emerged from the paddock.
The balding man didn’t crack a smile, but his bushy gray brows did ratchet a few inches higher as his gaze settled on Trulie’s rump nestled tight against Gray’s head. His thick, stubby fingers scratched the graying stubble of his cheek as he squinted back toward the building. “Ye want the stable empty?”
“Aye.” Gray nodded once. Good man. Rory was a man of few words and loyal clear to the bone. “As soon as I”—Gray swatted Trulie’s arse with the flat of his hand and grinned at the resulting enraged growl—“relieve myself of this load, I shall be back to help ye.”
“Aye, my chief.” Rory nodded once, glanced one more time at Trulie’s squirming form, then turned toward the training yards to the left of the stables. Several young boys, gangly and nothing but knees and elbows, worked in the lot tending to their duties. “Come now, lads,” Rory boomed out across the way. “There’s a chore to be done.”
The boys scrabbled to set aside their rakes and buckets, hurrying forward at their taskmaster’s request.
