Page 14 of Scottish Rose: Coira

“Aye, Coira, I think it is for the best.” Lance lured the hound over to him and scooped it up, dropping it into yesterday’s bathwater. The hound splashed and paddled and tried to climb out of the tub. “Not yet you dirty mutt. I am going to give you a bath, no matter if you agree with it or not.” He struggled with the animal, using some of the soft soap to wash its fur, rinsing her as well.

“Lance, she doesna like that.” Coira pushed her shoes onto her feet and came running over, taking hold of the dog protectively over the edge of the tub. “It’s all right, my little Sweetcakes.” She kissed the dog on the head.

“Sweetcakes? What kind of a name is that?” Lance grumbled, grabbing the dog and putting her on the floor. She shook, getting both of them wet.

“I only meant it as an endearment, but I think I like the name. Aye, she’ll be called Sweetcakes from now on.” Coira grabbed a towel and dried the dog.

“How about sweetmeats instead?” Lance suggested with a chuckle. “At least meat is something dogs like.”

“But sweetmeats are no’ even meat, they’re dried fruit,” she reminded him.

“You’ve got a point there,” he said, knowing that whatever she named the dog he wasn’t going to like it. “What if we call her –”

“Nay, Lance. Ye gave me the dog as a weddin’ gift. I want to call her Sweetcakes.”

Lance found himself being drawn in by Coira’s childlike innocence. He thought back to last night, and the intimate time they’d shared together. She had been so frightened, but he managed to make her feel safe and secure. He liked the fact he could do that. It was his responsibility to watch over and protect his new wife.

“All right,” he said with a sigh, bringing her to a standing position and pulling her into his arms. He kissed her passionately, immediately feeling a response within him. “I wouldn’t mind going back to bed and starting this day all over.”

“Me, neither,” said Coira, running her hands down his chest.

Lance was about to take her back to bed when there came a knock at the door. The wet dog shook again, splashing both of them and ran to the door barking.

“Who is it?” Lance called out.

“It’s Jack,” came a muffled voice from out in the corridor.

Lance sighed, and walked over and opened the door. When he did, the dog sped past Jack and ran away.

“What was that?” asked Jack, peering down the corridor after the hound.

“Just Sweetcakes – and don’t ask.”

“Lord Lance, I came to tell you Sir Philip of Sussex and some of his men have arrived. He is requesting your presence in the great hall.”

“Uncle Philip is here?” asked Lance. “I wonder what he wants. Coira, I will meet you later to show you the castle.”

“I dinna need to see it,” she said, suddenly becoming very closed off.

“But there is a special place I’d like you to see,” he explained. “I have a feeling you’re going to like it.” Without waiting for her to answer, he took off down the corridor at a good clip with Jack right on his heels.

“Slow down, my lord. I can barely keep up.”

“He wants the castle. I know that’s what it is,” mumbled Lance.

“But you have a missive that says Lord Ralston left it to you, don’t you, my lord?”

Lance stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Why do you ask? Have you heard otherwise?”

“Nay, my lord,” Jack answered. “Why do you seem so nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.” He ran a weary hand through his hair. “All right, I am. Jack, there is something I need to tell you, but you have to promise not to say a word to anyone.”

“Of course, my lord. What is it?”

“My uncle didn’t will me this castle. His estranged wife owned it after his death. I heard that she died recently. That’s why I hurried here right away and was even late to my own wedding.”

“You stole the castle?”