Alpin lifted her easily and set her on the long wooden table where they'd been working. The position put her at eye level with him, and suddenly the playful mood shifted into something else entirely.
His hands were still on her waist. Her hands had moved up to grip his shoulders for balance. They were both breathing hard, both soaked, both grinning.
And then they weren't grinning anymore.
Alpin's hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer to the edge of the table. Mhairi's legs parted automatically to accommodate him, and he stepped between them, pressing close.
"We're makin’ a mess," she whispered.
"I dinnae care." His hands slid from her waist up her arms, feeling the dampness of her dress, the warmth of her skin beneath. "Dae ye?"
"Nay."
He kissed her then, hard and hungry, one hand tangling in her wet hair while the other gripped her hip. Mhairi responded immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him even closer.
His hands roamed—down her sides, over her hips, along her thighs. When he gripped the backs of her knees and pulled her legs tighter around him, she made a sound in the back of her throat that drove him mad.
"Alpin," she gasped against his mouth. "We shouldnae, nae here."
"I locked the door," he lied, too lost in the feel of her to care about details like whether the door was actually secured.
His mouth moved to her neck, finding the spot just below her ear that made her shiver. Her hands were in his hair, tugging, and he groaned at the sensation.
He was just reaching for the laces of her dress when the door opened.
"Alpin, we need to—oh." Callum's voice. "Oh, Christ."
Alpin and Mhairi sprang apart like they'd been burned. Mhairi nearly fell off the table in her haste to get down, and Alpin had to catch her to keep her from landing in the sawdust.
"I'm sorry," Callum was saying, though his voice was filled with barely suppressed laughter. "I should've knocked. I just assumed?—"
"It's fine," Alpin said through gritted teeth, adjusting his tunic and trying to look like he hadn't just been moments away from taking Mhairi on the armory table. "What dae ye need?"
"Naethin’ that cannae wait." Callum's grin was positively wicked. "Though perhaps ye should ken that Peadar is right behind me, and he's going tae find this absolutely hilarious."
Alpin's stomach sank. Sure enough, footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, and then Peadar appeared in the doorway.
His friend's eyes swept over the scene—took in Alpin and Mhairi standing suspiciously far apart, both soaked and disheveled, the table behind them covered with scattered weapons and oil rags. Alpin watched Peadar's expression shift from curiosity to understanding to barely suppressed amusement.
Then Peadar started laughing.
"I see ye're hard at work on that inventory," Peadar observed.
Mhairi's face was bright red. "I should go. I need tae—I have tae—excuse me."
She practically fled from the armory, leaving Alpin alone with his two grinning friends.
"Shut up," he said before either of them could speak. "Whatever ye're about tae say, just shut up."
"I wasnae goin’ tae say anything," Callum protested, though his eyes were dancing. "Except maybe that ye might want tae lock the door next time."
"I thought I did lock it."
"Ye didnae." Peadar moved into the armory properly, examining the disarray with obvious amusement. "Though I have tae say, the armory is a bold choice fer a rendezvous."
"It wasnae a rendezvous. We were workin’."
"Is that what they're callin’ it these days?"
