I sighed and released her, watching her smooth her skirts down over her hips, waiting until she'd turned her back to me to pick another piece of straw from her braid without her realizing.
She paused at the door of the stall and glanced back at me over her shoulder. "I missed…lust. And I like feeling it with you, Torion Feargus."
Her words nailed me to the spot until long after she'd left the stable, the rise of male voices approaching stirring me from my stupor. She had not said she likedmeexactly. Just that she liked lusting after me.
I grinned like an idiot all the same.
"And what isyour intention for the summer drought?"
"You've certainly neglected to see to my broken dam long enough."
"Let's discuss a real issue. How do you expect to keep our omegas from being smuggled out of the territory?"
I blinked and took a slow breath, eyeing the betas surrounding me each in turn, until their squawking settled into an expectant silence.
"Gentlemen, the drought comes every year. We are no less prepared now. Campbell, your damisbeing seen to—a fact you would've been aware of if you ever looked to the west end of your estate." I paused as Mitchell Sterling tried to cover his laugh with a cough. "And as for the omegas…I intend to do my bestto ensure that their home, these hills, is a safe and comfortable place to live for them. So they might choose to stay."
The men in front of me, the men who'd cornered me on my way into the keep, when I was still covered in dust and dirt and no doubt less savory substances, shifted warily at the vague claim.
Francis Keane cleared his throat, two unruly gray eyebrows rising. "You've already denied them the greatest honor of presenting themselves to you for the selection ceremony."
"And denied the people of the Hills the celebration of wishing you and your chosen omega well," another chimed in.
I frowned as the men all seemed to sharpen their stares. "You're concerned about the lack of selection ceremony?" I asked, searching the open hall of the keep for someone with sense. Preferably Brigid.
"There are some…disputes that might be settled at the event," Mitchell hedged carefully.
"I see." I did not entirely see.
"And of course, you might discover another young maid to…strike your interest," Keane said slowly, gaze too fixed to miss my jerk of surprise. "Not to say you aren't certain of the Barr woman?—"
"Grant," I snarled, before settling myself, "And now, Feargus."
"But a mark of spite against a man like Malcolm Barr will only get you so far. You need an heir and?—"
I took a breath before I might suddenly release fire on these men, raising a hand to pause the insulting ramble. "If you all think that the Hills are in need of a ceremony, then we'll have one. At soonest convenience."
Only Mitchell had the sense to look wary.
"If you'll excuse me," I said, barely managing the polite response as I turned away from the group, charging forwardtoward the stairs. A flash of copper above me caught my eye—Brigid, pulling back into the shadows, a fleeting glance of her face tangled with worry sending me leaping up the steps two at a time.
Still, I didn't catch up with her until I reached my bedroom door. She gasped as I wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her inside with me.
"What are you going to do?" she whispered.
I shut the door and then pinned her against it. "What I'mnotgoing to do is go back on our bargain," I said.
"I didn't think that," she said, too fast, her little sharp chin lifting in defiance. She softened in my hold, and I settled contentedly against her, my purr thrumming out as her hands came to stroke over my chest and shoulders. "But you have an idea."
Only the start of one, I admitted to myself. "I bet you hate surprises."
"I do," she said firmly, glaring at me.
My hands slid down over her hips, her ass, down to cup the back of her legs. "Too bad."
She screeched as I lifted her up and spun us, hauling us in a stumbling march toward the beginning of the nest she'd built us. I smiled as she broke into laughter, then set about striving for her moans.
Chapter Eleven
