Piper’s heart knocked against her chest at the sight of his. Bronzed by the sun. Below the smooth expanse of his chest, thick bands of muscle stretched over his ribs then rippled like waves down his abdomen. Each defined by the play of sunlight and shadow. Her mouth went dry and her fingers tingled. She rubbed them together wondering if his skin were as satiny as it appeared.
“I best be off.” Jane wheeled her horse away. “I’m sure the distance is too great for him to recognize me, though I’d rather he not have the opportunity. If he sees us together, I shall be subjected to yet another gentleman accosting me at balls with questions of you.”
Piper hardly blinked, unable to gather a single coherent thought. “Jane…”
“You know, it might be nice to be pursued by a gentleman for something more than information.” Her friend smiled to soften the criticism. “If Mr. MacKintosh were to approach me, I’d like to enjoy the thought for at least a moment that he had more on his mind than you.”
Finally, Piper tore her eyes away from him. “I assure you, he thinks nothing of me.”
While her thoughts had lingered rather persistently upon him. On the kiss that both shocked and delighted her. On their conversation. On his offer of assistance. On his teasing banter and quiet reassurances…
But mostly on that kiss.
The barest brush of his lips across hers, light as the tickle of a feather. It had set her heart aflutter and thoughts askew.
And ended far too soon.
She hadn’t mentioned it to Jane, rather hugged it to herself. There was undeniable joy to be found in the opportunity to be herself with someone who hadn’t known her since she was in nappies. More in the freedom to engage in light flirtation.
Far more in Connor MacKintosh’s kiss.
Her first kiss…
No, not the first.
The memory knocked at the corner of her mind, and the door she carefully kept closed to lock it away opened. Just a crack, but enough to douse her pleasure.
Pursing her lips, Piper guided Dandy in a circle and followed Jane back up the path until they were out of sight of the workers. As they rode, she considered the gossip she’d heard about Connor compared to what she’d seen for herself. The crofters, many of whom Piper had known since birth, gave him their full attention. Showed open respect to a man they’d known only a short while.
He’d requested nothing more than her trust. To share her burden much as he shared theirs. He didn’t falter under the strain of hard work. Logic might demand her continued wariness. Instinct said he wouldn’t fail her either.
* * *
Connor snatched up his shirt and yanked it over his head. Bugger it if he hadn’t felt suddenly self-conscious to find Mrs. Milbourne watching him from the rise adjacent to his worksite. She’d given no indication that she observed him specifically. The distance prevented him from identifying where her regard was directed. Even knowing that, his bare flesh tingled as if under the tender ministrations of a lover’s caress.
Thoughts of her had consumed him since their last encounter. That brief, chaste kiss haunted him. As had the idiocy that had driven her away. The former made sleep bloody well impossible with the sweet taste of her lips driving him mad with desire. The latter clouded his days, wishing he could take back all that he’d said.
Nay, not all. His offer to ease her troubles where he could had been sincere, as had his plea for her trust. The lass needed a man. Perhaps not a protector or even a lover, but a steady arm to support her, a ready ear to hear her, and a friend to share her woes. Could be she had friends aplenty and all the bolstering she’d ever need. Still, he’d gotten the impression that a life of hiding had left her lonely for company.
On the other hand, that might have simply been him. He’d managed to gain the respect of Aylesbury’s cottagers through damned hard work. Regardless, he was not one of them. He was an outsider among families that had lived and worked together for generations. A Scot to boot. Not lord of the house, not a tenant. Not a friend to them.
He was bloody tired of his own company after months of the same. Soon enough, Fiona and Aylesbury would return to provide him some distraction from the rather tempting one lingering in his mind.
The good Lord knew uprooting trees hadn’t left him exhausted enough to do the trick, though Connor was proud of the progress they’d made. They’d cleared more land than originally planned. This last line of oaks would see the job done. The rest of the men were digging irrigation canals to feed the new farmland. Aylesbury would add almost a hundred acres more than the five hundred Connor had promised to his spring planting.
“Nay, no’ those,” he barked, seeing the direction the men wielding the axes where headed. “Take these last few to this side of the slope.”
“I thought his lordship said we was to fell the south lands, m’lord.” One of the older men, Barney, who’d proven himself more of an observer than laborer of late, tugged off his cap to scratch his head.
Connor shook his head. “There’s nae point stripping bare what cannae be farmed. That section is uneven and hard to drain. Besides, it’s about balance, aye? As he keeps pastureland for grazing, his lordship will need a wildlife refuge for his huntsman if he wants venison on his table.”
The old cottager nodded slowly as if Connor had delivered sage knowledge. “I like me a good chunk of meat, I do.”
Another of the younger men chimed in. “The wife heard we was going to get a goat. Is that true, m’lord?”
Och, with the titles. They’d not give it up. “Aye, Tom. That ye will if I can convince his lordship to invest in them.”
Barney spit into the dirt. “Is that so? What would I want with a goat?”
