Page 47 of The Lady of Her Highland Clan

"Hmm," he muttered. Then, glancing around, he changed the subject. "Well, um, why dinnae we set up here?"

He indicated the open green in front of them. Surprised, Fiona looked around.

"Stop?" she said, her eyes open wide.

"Aye," he said. His green eyes flashed meaningfully. Fiona felt herself blush. He seemed to undress her with his eyes as he paused on horseback to appreciate the view of the glen. To spare her blushes, Clyde glanced away as Fiona pretended to be caught up with suddenly plaiting her hair, which, of course, she had absolutely zero interest in. Every now and again, when he thought she was not looking, Fiona would catch Clyde glancing at her. But then he turned his eyes sharply away again.

"Aye, here," said Clyde, pretending not to be watching her silently. "Any objections?"

Grace gazed into the horizon. The sleepy red sun sat on the horizon, still glimmering. She shrugged.

"The day is young," she said. "There's still a good few hours of daylight left."

Fiona looked on, impatient to be gone and to have the lost gold in her possession. But Clyde shook his head.

"Aye, it will take that long tae set the camp, an' for ye tae cook us something edible tae eat for tea." With that, he winked at her pertinently.

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Well, I cannae comment on how long ye take tae put up some tenting, dear Clyde, but what are ye trying tae say about my cooking?" she pouted.

Clyde smiled devilishly, a tight grin wrapping around the contours of his face. "Och, nothing my sweeting, just that a man could die o' auld age afore ye've shelled the peas."

Fiona huffed but inside stifled a grin. Hopping down from Lizzie May, she relented.

"Ach, ye’re right," she said, beaming.

A light breeze ran through the glen, sending a pleasant scent of summer flowers wafting their way. Patting Lizzie May, Fiona had a very strong vision of wrapping her arms around Clyde’s neck and kissing him softly on the cheek. The picture played on for some time, and it was with difficulty that she approached him.

"Aye," she said, casually pushing away hair from her face. Now they stood, nose to nose, almost in the wild glen. "Maybe ye do need a few hours tae set up the camp. Dinnae fash, I can give ye a haund."

"Nay, I..." Clyde began telling her that he didn't need her help, then stopped. He smiled. "Aye, that'd be braw."

Grinning, Fiona picked up one of the pieces, unpacking it slowly from the knapsack. For a moment or two, there was silence. Then Fiona looked tentative.

"So," she began, with an aside to him. Clyde was deep at work, leaning over and banging a tent pole in. As a result, she was treated to a first-class display of his bottom. His fleshy curves taunted her in, and his robust thighs promised her things she could barely imagine.

Struggling to take her eyes off his behind, Fiona took a breath.

"I ken everything, an' yet, nearly nothing at all," she said, her eyes twinkling. This got Clyde's attention, and straight away, he turned to face her.

"What...do ye mean?" he asked, his face flushing. His cheeks fizzled with color from being upside down. As he returned upright, she watched it slowly dissolve again. "What do ye want tae ken?"

He looked at her as if he were genuinely quizzical, something that Fiona could not understand at all.

"Well, how about, och, everything?" she said, smiling sweetly. She handed him another tent segment, which was apparently the wrong way around, as Clyde immediately smirked and turned it around again. "About ye."

She smiled at him again, her eyes connecting briefly with his. He looked so taken aback that Fiona was a little stunned. Was there something he was hiding? Or was this just a step too far for him?

For a minute or two, Clyde worked on in silence, and Fiona sensed the worst. She was asking too much. Maybe stepping on boundaries. Whatever it was, Clyde did not seem ready to reveal any great secrets.

She was just about to tell him to forget it when he said, "About...me?" he said slowly. His hands worked to hoist a section of the tenting together, giving Fiona ample chance to admire his strong grip and firm-looking biceps further up.

"Aye, about ye. Who else would I be asking o'?" Her eyes flashed feistily, but inside, Fiona hesitated. It was asking too much, she felt sure. She had never had conversations like this before, so she was not sure how they were supposed to go. Or even if they were supposed to happen at all.

Eventually, Clyde sighed. "Och, well...I became laird about a year ago...after my father lost his life in the battle wi' the Kennedys."

"Och, the Kennedys," said Fiona, wearily. Then she looked animated. "Jings, that's the same battle that my father was killed at," she said. Now their eyes locked.

Sadly, Clyde nodded. "Aye," he said. "I ken. They were comrades fighting together."