From the direction of her gaze and the way her lips were curled, she’d noticed his sap difficulty.
“I’ve told ye, Kester, ye needn’t worry about my reputation. Out here, I’m Robbie.”
With a growl, he pointed one sap-covered finger at her. “And Robbie wouldnae be talking about my cock.”
“Why no’?” she challenged. “Yer men have plenty of opinions about yer manhood. They say yer cock is long enough—“
Cursing, he turned away from her, his fingers wrapping around the hilts of his blades, more out of comfort than any real danger.
After a few moments of silence, during which he managed to get his—his—his everything under control, she spoke.
“Why do ye care, Kester?” she whispered. “Why does it matter what I think—how I feel—about ye?”
The moon wasn’t quite full, but there were no clouds tonight, and the light reflected peacefully off the surface of the loch. ‘Twas small enough there were no waves, just a few ripples the breeze caused across the surface.
Kester inhaled deeply, savoring the Highland scents he loved so much; heather, pine…. Well, that was likely his own hair he was smelling.
Here, and now, with her safely tucked behind him and the reflection of the moon before him, ‘twas easier to tell her the truth.
“Because, lass, I suspect I’ll care about ye until the day I die.”
He heard her exhale quietly.
“Yer men say ‘tis the King’s wish ye marry Murray’s eldest daughter, no’ yers.”
He had to tread carefully.
“‘Tis my wish to have peace for my clan. We’re small, and I’ve been fighting Ian Murray since afore my da died and I became laird. An alliance would provide for my people.”
He knew he sounded defeated. He felt defeated.
After a long moment, he heard her move closer. When she spoke, she was right behind him. “Ye’re a good man, Kester MacBain. A good laird.”
He closed his eyes, imagining he could feel her heat pressed against his back. “I’m no’.” His voice was raw. “If I were a good man, I wouldnae have fallen in love with ye.”
Well, shite.
He heard her slow inhale. “Are…are ye sure ye meant to say that out loud already? We’re only halfway through.”
“Through what?” He opened his eyes to find the vista of the loch hadn’t changed.
“Through….” ‘Twas easy to imagine her flapping her hands about, in that adorable way of hers. “Through this. Our story. Fifty percent seems a bit early.”
He turned. “Lass, what are ye talking about?”
“I dinnae ken!” she all-but-wailed, her eyes wide. Although he couldn’t see it in the dim light, ‘twasnae difficult to guess she was panicked. “I came out here to convince ye I dinnae need yer love—“
“Ye dinnae,” he declared sharply, reaching for her hands. Shite, his were still sticky, but he squeezed anyhow. “Robena, I’m nae good for ye. Ye dinnae need my love.”
Her eyes were wide. “But I have it,” she whispered.
Well, shite again.
He couldn’t deny it, so he said naught.
“Kester….” When she took a deep breath, her shoulders expanded beneath that ridiculous shirt she wore. “Ye’ve said ye…care for me. I understand now why ye think we couldnae be together, at Oliphant Castle, but….”
When she trailed off, he found himself leaning closer. “But what?” he finally prompted.