“Good news, lads and lassies,” he said. “I’ve found a farmer we can negotiate with.”
“He has a wife who might like my lace?” Ines asked.
Duncan winked. “Even better. He has two daughters.”
STRATFORD
Stratford liked Malcolm Campbell right away. He was a short, plump man with an easy laugh and blue eyes that all but disappeared in his round face when he was amused. He also had two plump daughters, all of thirteen and fifteen, who were sweet and pretty enough to turn the local boys’ heads.
Campbell had offered them all a meal and hot water to wash faces and hands, and even though he said his great-grandfather had a grievance with someone who was a relation to the Duke of Atholl, Duncan’s uncle, he would not hold that against Duncan.
And Stratford had thought the English had long memories.
When their bellies were full, Campbell took Duncan and Stratford to his barn, where he showed them his horses. He had a large farm and several horses. Stratford was as good a judge of horseflesh as any other man, and he nodded in agreement when Duncan picked the best three. The beasts were work horses, to be sure, and Stratford thought they would have little trouble making the journey to the Highlands.
“And ye can do withoot them for a few weeks?” Duncan asked, though now that he spoke to one of his countrymen, his accent had deepened, and Stratford had to strain to understand him.
“Och, the planting is done. I can spare them for a time, and the coin ye promised will buy my seeds for the fall planting.” He gave Duncan a rueful look. “Not tae mention, my girls fell in love with the lace yer lady showed them. They’ll cry for days if I deny them now.”
“Then we should discuss particulars,” Duncan said. At least that’s what Stratford thought he said.
“Aye.” The farmer looked at Stratford, and Duncan looked at him too. Clearly the two Scotsmen preferred to negotiate in private.
“I’ll go for a walk,” Stratford said.
“There’s a pond just a quarter mile west,” the farmer said. “It’s fed by a hot spring. It’s nae as good as a bath in a tub, but it will do tae wash the dust off yer feet.”
“Thank you,” Stratford said and went off in search of the pond. He didn’t believe it would actually be warm—the Scots’ idea of warmth and the English’s were vastly different—but he’d risk a cold plunge to clean the dust and grime from his body. He could wash out his clothing as well. He’d have to wear them damp, but he’d done that often in the army.
He found the pond easily enough and was a bit surprised at the steam rising from it. The farmer had not exaggerated the hot spring. Stratford wouldn’t have called it a proper pond, more like a watering hole about fifteen feet across. At the far end, a group of rocks were the perfect spot to swim to if the watering hole was as deep as it looked to be.
He stripped off his clothing, quickly and efficiently, rinsed them in the warm water—God it would be like heaven when he went in—and laid them to dry on the rocks to the side. He waded into the water. It was deep. The rocks beneath his feet were slippery and dropped off quickly. Stratford went under, dunked his head, and enjoyed the feeling of warmth he hadn’t experienced for days. Well, except when he’d had Emmeline in his arms. Then he’d been warm enough. She seemed to possess a small furnace inside her that heated them both whenever their bodies came together.
But he’d better not think of that now. It had been hard enough to lie beside her all night and mind his manners, harder still when she’d risen this morning and stretched, arching her back and thrusting those glorious breasts out. He’d wanted to touch her so badly, he could taste it. But he’d already done enough damage. He’d given into temptation and kissed her far too much. He’d managed to keep his hands to himself, but if he continued down this path, he wouldn’t be able to do that.
Stratford began to swim for the rocks, reflecting that Emmeline had seemed to enjoy his kisses well enough. Considering she hadn’t really noticed him much before, that was definitely a change. But of course her thoughts went to marriage, as they probably should, and Stratford knew better than anyone that both their families would frown upon that match. There had been ample opportunity for either his parents or her mother to encourage a relationship between them, but no one ever had. In fact, he’d been tasked with escorting her to balls, where she would be thrown into the path of other men.
Men who were not bastards masquerading as legitimate sons.
He reached the rocks and put his hand on one then jumped back when he felt something soft and pliant. Something that couldn’t be a rock at all. “What the devil?”
“Not the devil at all.” The pale hand soon gave way to a pale arm and then a head peeked around one of the rocks. It was Emmeline. Her hair slicked back, and her skin glistening with droplets of water. Her cheeks were pink from the heat of the spring. Treading water, Stratford stared at her.
“Where did you come from?”
“The other side,” she said, indicating the clothing laid out on the rocks and hanging from the branches of a tree. How had he not seen that before? “I was here before you. At least twenty minutes before,” she said.
He would have seen her for certain if she’d been swimming. “Then you’ve been sitting behind this rock since—”
“Since you appeared and removed your clothing?” She nodded. “Yes.”
Good God. He was almost embarrassed, except he was too aroused to be embarrassed. She had watched him disrobe and said nothing?
“You should have made your presence known.”
“Yes, I should have.” She didn’t sound the least bit contrite. “But if I had, you would have left, and I wanted you to be able to enjoy the spring as well. I promise I closed my eyes.” She smiled. “Except for maybe one peek.”
“Bloody hell.”
“You’ve changed since I last spied on you, swimming at Odham Abbey.”
His cheeks felt hot.
“Are you blushing?” she asked. “I promise it was only a very quick peek.”
“Well, don’t peek again. I’ll get out and leave the pool to you.” He did not relish putting his wet clothes back on so quickly. He’d thought they’d have a few minutes to dry.
Emmeline reached around the rock and grabbed his arm. His bare arm. “Oh, no! Don’t leave.”
“You know it’s not proper for me to stay.”
She stuck out her lip. “Then I will leave. I was here first. It seems only fair.” She released him and disappeared behind the rock.
“No! You stay,” he said, his voice almost frantic.
Her head appeared from behind the rock again. “Why?” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re afraid you will peek?”
“No.”
“Yes. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“Well...” She seemed to consider something. “It does seem only fair.”
His breath caught. “What seems only fair?” Why had he even asked? Why was he not swimming to the side and climbing out instead of prolonging this agony? Because even though she was behind a rock, and he was on the other side of it, his mind knew that she was naked. Completely naked. And that meant his body knew he was close to a naked woman—and not just any naked woman, Emmeline. He’d gone hard as the rock between them, and his cock was making it difficult for his head to think clearly.