Selene blinked. “You are going to help with cattle? The Laird?”
Kenneth arched a brow. “Aye. Duntulm is me responsibility. I willnae sit in the hall and wait fer others to aid those who need it or mend what’s broken.” He gave a low chuckle. “And I’m used tae cattle, lass, these are all on me estate.”
The blunt sincerity of that stirred something unexpectedly warm in her chest. She swallowed it down at once. “Then I shall like to go with you.”
A chorus of masculine surprise rippled across the two men. Kenneth’s brows shot up. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” she demanded. “I am hardly made of glass, despite what you seem to think. Besides, there were tenant farmers on our estate in Hertfordshire, so I, too, am familiar with livestock.”
He muttered something under his breath in that language she couldn’t understand. She guessed he was calling on the heavens to rid him of such an annoying female.
“The ground will be treacherous. Ye dinnae ken the terrain, and ye cannae ride astride. I’ve nae desire tae scrape ye out of the mud like a half-drowned hen.”
She glared at him. “How chivalrous of you.”
Callum coughed, clearly enjoying their exchange.
Kenneth huffed sharply, looking her over. “Why, ye look like ye’ve had nay sleep fer a week and ye’re tapping yer foot wi’ impatience. Ye’re in nay state tae be making decisions that could put yer safety at risk.”
“Nonsense,” she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. “It is not up to you to make decisions about my safety.”
He studied her without speaking for several long minutes. At last, he said through gritted teeth, “All right. If ye must come, ye’ll ride wi’ me. I’ll nae have ye breaking yer neck.”
Selene felt a rush of elation. She’d won. But before she could properly gloat, what he was saying hit her. “Ridewithyou?”
“Aye,” he said, getting to his feet. “Otherwise, ye will remain at the castle.” He was already striding toward the doors.
Her pride warred with her desperation to escape the castle walls. Pride took a beating. “Very well,” she said tightly. “I shall ride with you. But first I must change my clothing.”
Kenneth gave a short nod. “Dinnae delay, our horses are being saddled as we speak. I shall see ye in the courtyard.”
With a feeling of triumph, Selene hastened to her chamber to hurriedly change into her riding clothes: a white linen shirt and waistcoat, a fitted woolen skirt and jacket. She pulled on her boots and laced them, and then, seizing her hat and gloves as she left the chamber, she hurtled along the passageway and down the stairs.
As she stepped out into the crisp morning air, the weight of the storm lifted from her shoulders – replaced, of course, by the infuriating presence of the laird. But it was freedom nonetheless, and for the moment, that was enough.
CHAPTER NINE
Kenneth could not resist a smile as Selene emerged from the keep. She came racing down the stairs and across the courtyard as if she was being pursued by the hounds of heaven. Despite her rush, she looked every inch the fine English lady in her riding outfit of midnight blue.
She arrived beside him flushed and panting, her eyes sparkling. He had to admit, she looked altogether adorable.
“Ready,” she said, breathlessly. It was clear she could hardly wait to get going. Not surprising, he mused. Cooped up in the castle for so many days would have been far too long for such a lively lass.
Bending, he threaded his fingers together so that he could assist her into his saddle. She placed one dainty, leather-clad foot in his hands, and reached for the pommel of his saddle to lever herself up.
He considered her soft, well-made boot. Too bad it would soon be soaked in the mire and mud of the cattle fields. It was the kind of well-tooled footwear that was meant for a lady’s gentle ride along soft English lanes, beside charming fields of grass where cattle grazed contentedly under a pale blue sky.
It was totally unsuited to the rugged, storm-tossed land around Duntulm and the untamed Scottish cattle roaming there.
He raised his hands to assist, as Selene, with an unladylike grunt pulled herself onto his huge destrier, Arvak. As she swung herself into the saddle, her skirt flew skyward, affording him a moment’s view of a swirling petticoat and a long, gracefulbareleg.
Trying and failing to prevent his thoughts following that pale leg higher, his pulse raced, his groin twitched and he swallowed hard. Inwardly cursing himself for a fool.
What in the devil’s name are ye thinking, lad?Ye obviously havenae fergotten how it felt tae have her soft, warm, curvaceous body slipping and sliding against ye as ye rode with her tae the castle after coming ashore from the birlinn?
He recalled every move, only too well. And the torment it had brought him.
While it was a most practical idea for her to ride under his care – and he was a most practical man – he was now having serious doubts about his common sense.
