Page 333 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Victoria turned her head, allowing Maude to survey the grease smeared across her cheek. Maude’s frown warred with a twitch playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Catherine has a way of making point.” Victoria gave into laughter, drawing her companion in with her.

“She does,” Maude agreed, between hiccups.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Victoria crossed to the table. She pulled the small stool sitting by the fire and stepped on it to hang the pot on the hook. As she extended her arm to connect the pot with the hook, a cry of dismay from Joanna yanked her attention over her shoulder. Victoria startled at sight of Iain MacPherson striding toward her from the doorway connecting the kitchen to the great hall.

She wobbled. The stool tipped beneath her. Iain leapt for her as she covered her head to fend off the pot that had missed the hook. His arm shot out, deflecting the pot and he caught Victoria around the waist with the other. A crash of metal against stone rang in the kitchen as Iain yanked her into his arm. For a long moment her fingers refused to release their grip on his sash.

“Are you well?” he asked.

Victoria nodded, her attention focused on something she detected in his tone. Gone was the arrogance that had characterized the days spent traveling to Fauldun Castle and, in its stead, a carefully banked fire warmed the tenor of his voice. Memory of the night she had cried herself to sleep in his tender embrace caused her belly to do a flip.

“I told you there was safety in my arms,” he whispered in her ear.

She stilled, the words recalling the shocked reality that this was her long-lost captor who had returned to claim his prize. She willed her arms to shove him from her, but his softly spoken “Are you sure you are well?” immobilized her.

His head lifted and he met her gaze. She startled when he scowled. “Why are you dressed like this— and what are you doing in the kitchen?”

Victoria broke free of him and took an unsteady step back. “I am helping with the evening meal.”

“’Tis not your job.” He shot Maude a recriminating look.

“Now, Iain, Vi—we—uh—well, the lass wanted something to do. She helps us now and again.”

His brows snapped downward and a question appeared in his eyes. “She will not be working in the kitchen again. In the future, she will take her meals in the hall with me.”

“But I do not wish to take my meals in the hall with you,” Victoria said.

He looked at her. “Why?”

“It is noisy and messy, and I have no desire to share my supper with animals.”

Iain raised an indignant brow.

Victoria shook her head. “I am speaking of the hounds, my lord, not your men.”

“And what of me?”

“What of you?”

“You do not wish to eat with me?”

“I have no desire, one way or the other.”

“Aye, but I think you do,” Iain murmured. “Have desire, that is.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “You know little of me.” “True,” he replied. “But I am trying to learn more.

Yet you are determined to make it hard for me.”

“Not nearly so hard as I will in the future,” she muttered.

His gaze turned masculine. “Do you have any idea how hard you are making me now, sweet?”

She gasped. “’Tis not my concern to know such things.”

“Do you regret what you already know?” he asked.