The other man said nothing but nodded toward the shade of an oak tree under which a lassie stood, holding a wooden sword, frowning in concentration, and trying to mimic the moves of the sparring warriors. She did not yet have a woman’s curves and looked to be perhaps a few years past ten. She also had the same dark coloring as the commander.
“Yer daughter?” Kenneth asked Doughall.
The water skin held to his lips, the other man replied with a nod. When he offered the skin to Kenneth and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the commander nodded. “Aye, she’s mine. Bessetta, her mother named her.”
Ah. So Doughall had been warning him away from one particular lassie, eh? Well, his daughter was naught more than a child, and held no interest to Kenneth.
“A fine name, and a fine lassie, but one far too young for me. Although…” There was a woman running down the hill from the castle. One who would catch Kenneth’s eye anywhere. “I do have another lass in mind.”
Chuckling, Doughall saw where his attention was focused. “Leanna’s a spitfire, aright. Ye’ll have yer hands full with that one.”
“Aye,” murmured Kenneth distractedly. “That’s what I’m hoping.”
He’d already climbed around the hay, and was wiping his hands on his kilt, when he heard Doughall’s laughter and realized he was acting like a lad worried about a lass’s opinion. So he straightened his shoulders, lifted his chin, and tried not to smile when she stumbled to a stop in front of him.
Her eyes were bright in the afternoon sunshine; the gold flecks in them were sparkling with humor, and her dimple was on full display. Her hair was pulled back in a simple braid, and the sunlight caught the strands of gold and red he hadn’t noticed that day at the waterfall, since it had been wet, and the colors made her seem even more sprite-like.
“Why are ye frowning?” There was a teasing note in her voice, as usual. “Did Doughall whip yer arse too badly?”
“Whip my—” Kenneth’s eyes widened, and then he was scowling for real. “Nay, that clot-heid couldnae handle me with three extra arms and two extra blades.”
But, since Doughall could still overhear them, Kenneth offered her his arm to lead her away from the sparring men. No need to tempt fate, when there was every chance he’d be joining Doughall’s sparring sessions again in order to ask leading questions about McIlvain.
“Three extra arms, hmm?” she mused, as she linked her arm with his and sent that spark of awareness through his body. “I can think of many uses for a few extra hands.”
It was the wink.
If she hadn’t winked at him, Kenneth might’ve been able to keep his body’s reactions under control, despite the blatant hint in her voice. She was thinking something naughty, and that wink went straight to his cock.
It was bloody difficult to walk with the damned thing stiffening in front of him. Here he was, walking about her family’s land like a divining rod.
He was going to get some strange looks if he couldn’t un-tent his kilt.
Clearing his throat, he cast about for a topic of conversation which wouldn’t arouse him further. Cold lochs. That wink. Grandmothers’ kisses. Those lips, pulled into a knowing smirk. Long and boring sessions at court, listening to the King dispense justice. Raw carrots. Those lips, closing over a raw carrot, pulling it in and out, sucking, licking…
Fook me! This isnae helping.
Her hold on him tightened momentarily, pulling the side of her breast against his arm. Saints preserve him, but he could imagine the weight of her in his hand, cupped in his palm, his fingers playing with her nipple—
“So, did ye find what ye were searching for?”
Kenneth almost stumbled over his own boots. “What?”
“Ye said ye were searching for something.” She shot him a mischievous look. “That first afternoon when ye arrived. Dinnae try to deny it. Have ye found it?”
Of course his first instinct was to deny it—his mission was at stake, after all. But something stayed his tongue. Mayhap ‘twas the way she was smirking as they strolled, and he knew it was directed at him, even if she wasn’t quite looking his way. Mayhap ‘twas the fact that, in three days of questions, he hadn’t found a single blessed thing to lead him to believe McIlvain had been here.
And mayhap ‘twas because Leanna was the daughter of the laird. She might be able to help him.
But there was no need to take her completely into his confidence.
“Kenneth?” she prompted.
His decision made, he shook his head, directing their steps toward the courtyard, where he knew he could wash in the water from the well. “Nay, I’ve no’ found what I was searching for.”
Triumphantly, she punched the air, and when he shot her a questioning glance, she had the good grace to flush in embarrassment. But she shrugged unapologetically. “I kenned ye were searching for something.”
“Ah. So yer enthusiasm wasnae because I had thus far failed?”