Damn my weakness for rugged Scots!Hearts of the Highlandshad ruined me!
“Rough time clearing the trail?” I asked, still feeling flushed as his eyes roamed over me. I attempted to wipe more mud from my cheek, my fingers coming away coated in pony-drool.Yuck.
“Callum and I still aren’t exactly hitting it off,” he admitted.
I wiped my hand on my shirt. “I thought I told you to be nice?”
He scoffed. “This has nothing to do with me being nice.”
“What in the high heavens have you two been up to?” Agnes cried before I could respond. She marched into the gardens, hands on her hips. “You’re filthy!”
“Bonnie,” Weston and I said in tandem.
Agnes tutted. “That pony thinks she’s a dog.” She waved us inside. “Let’s go. Inside to get cleaned up before tea.”
Weston shook his head. “I’m not very hun?—”
“Inside!” Agnes insisted, hearing none of it as she shoved us both toward the stairs. “Try not to track mud all over my clean floors.”
“What are you grinning about?” Weston asked as we started up the staircase.
“Nothing,” I mused. “I’m just glad I’m not the one that has to harp on you to eat for once.”
He rolled his eyes, carrying on down the hall to his room while I marched straight into the bathroom next to mine. I stripped out of my clothing while I waited for the water to get hot, then climbed in and scrubbed what felt like an inch of dirt and pony slobber from my skin and hair. When I was pinker than a sunset, I stepped out—only then realizing I hadn’t thought to bring in a change of clothes.
I was so used to living alone, it hadn’t even crossed my mind.
I tucked the towel around me tightly, then slipped out the door, tiptoeing as quickly as I could to my room. But before I reached it, Weston walked around the corner, fixing the sleeve of his button-down shirt.
My breath hitched as my grip on the towel tightened.Fuck.
His eyes skittered up, widening slightly, but instead of the amusement I’d read on his face when we’d been in the yard, his gaze held something else now. Something intense.
Heat surged through me as our eyes connected, prickling at the back of my neck. “Sorry, forgot my clothes. I’m not used to having to worry about that, living alone.”
“Evidently.” His eyebrow arched. “I know it’s a big house, but other peopledolive here.”
That earlier irritation flared to life. “Excuse me for thinking when you said make yourself at home, you meant that.”
“Forgive me for expecting a certain amount of decorum from my assistant,” he said dryly.
“Well, in case you forgot, I’m your wife now!” I snapped sharply, surging straight past him for my room.
8
WESTON
The windshield wipers squeaked as a sudden rain shower lashed down against the car. I stared out one window as the driver took us into town. Lena stared out the other, the awkwardness of our earlier interaction lingering. Once again, I’d said the wrong thing. I’d like to say, in my defense, I’d been caught off guard. Because the last thing I’d expected to see walking around the corner from my room was Lena draped in nothing but a towel that clung tightly to her curves.
But now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts.
Actually, it wasnevertime for those thoughts.
Lena hummed uncertainly. I turned to her. “What is it?”
“I forgot to pack an umbrella,” she mused.
“It’ll stop,” I said with certainty.
