And since he wasn’t watching, Alistair felt safe grinning, sure he was making the right decision. “Because ye’re rotting without it, brother. Because ye can do it and should.” He shrugged. “And because I need ye.”
Apparently, that had been the right thing to say, as he watched Kiergan’s gaze jerk upward again, and Alistair could nearly see the thoughts running behind his brother’s blue eyes: Alistair never admits he needs help.
Och, well, aye.
Aye, now I need help, brother.
Alistair sighed. “Ye’re smart and charming, and far more diplomatic than I am, Kier, although ye use that skill verra differently than Finn.”
Proving his brother hadn’t suddenly changed too much, Kiergan winked. “The ladies dinnae mind my diplomatic tongue, aye?”
“See? ‘Tis what I mean!” Alistair shook his head and reached for another berry tart. “Ye are worth more than just fooking a different woman each sennight, brother. Ye ken it.”
Kiergan’s expression clouded, and he dropped his gaze back to the correspondence in his hands. “Ye really want me to be in charge of this?” He sounded hesitant.
“I do. I need ye, Kier.”
His brother nodded, but didn’t quite hide the strange look in his eyes when he lifted his head once more and took a deep breath. “I willnae let ye down, brother.”
Alistair nodded once. “Ye can use this desk and any materials ye need.”
“I’ll use the one in our room. Ye ken…the room we used to share, but now I never see ye?”
Scoffing, Alistair brushed the crumbs from his chest. “If ye think I want to share a room with a man who brings a different woman to bed—”
“I dinnae.”
“What?”
“I dinnae bring women to that bed, Alistair.”
It seemed important to his brother that he believe him, so Alistair slowly nodded.
And Kiergan’s serious expression cleared as a grin formed. “I like this new side of ye, Ali. ‘Twould be nice to have my twin back.”
“Ye’ll have yer twin’s fist in yer mouth if ye continue to use that ridiculous nickname.”
“Who is it? Who convinced ye to finally relax? Someone else had to have done it.”
Alistair’s gaze dropped to the berry tarts. He considered lying or changing the subject, but finally, he confessed, “ ’Twas Lara.”
His brother made a little hum of revelation, then said, “She’s a good lass.”
“Aye, she is.”
Alistair had only just come to realize that. He glanced up and caught his brother’s knowing grin, as if Kiergan had known it all along.
And a horrible suspicion slammed into Alistair.
His brother had known all along!
The way Lara had acted here in this room, the way she’d known things he hadn’t expected her, or any virgin, to know about her body—about his body—about how bodies were supposed to—
By St. Elzear’s tits!
Alistair’s hands suddenly clenched into fists, and he took a threatening step toward his brother. “How well do ye ken Lara?”
Kiergan didn’t seem to understand the question. He shrugged. “She’s a good friend to me and Nessa.”
He’d have to be blunt. “Have ye taken her to bed, Kier?”
His brother’s expression turned to shock in a blink. “What? Nay! I told ye I dinnae—”
Och, aye, he didn’t bring women to his bed. Well then… “Have ye fooked her?”
Was Kiergan the one who’d taught Lara about the pleasures to be found? The knowledge she’d used on Alistair…had she gotten it from his twin brother?
But that brother was shaking his head, a slow grin returning back to his lips. “Nay,” he drawled, as if amused by the accusation. “I havenae fooked Lara, any more than I would our sister. She’s no’ that kind of lass.”
Except…mayhap she was. Alistair was just realizing how incredibly strange their encounter in this solar must’ve been for a lass who’d been raised by Nessa’s—a true lady’s—side. She’d touched herself, and she’d had no qualms about him touching himself in front of her.
Who had taught her that?
“So she’s a virgin?”
Kiergan shrugged. “How would I be kenning that?”
“Because ye’re her friend. If ye havenae fooked her—”
“Men and women can be friends without fooking, Alistair.” Kiergan shook his head. “Och, ye are uptight, are ye no’? What makes ye think Lara isnae a virgin?” He paused. “And why does it matter to ye?”
It doesn’t.
It does.
When he didn’t answer, his twin shook his head again and picked up a berry tart in the hand not currently holding the scrolls. “Why no’ go and ask her? I imagine she’d be thrilled to discuss the intimacies of her bedding habits with ye.”
Alistair was just as certain she wouldn’t, and his growl said so.
But his brother just shrugged. “Lara is…inquisitive, Alistair.”
“Inquisitive? Like our sister?” Nessa had been known to embroider full battle scenes, complete with decapitated heads and realistic blood.
And Kiergan, knowing how Alistair’s mind worked, grinned. “Aye, exactly,” he quipped, before waving the scrolls dismissively and ducking out the door.
Alistair was left alone in the solar—his solar, damnation!—staring down at the plate of tarts.
Why did Lara’s virginity—or lack thereof—bother him so much?
He frowned. It didn’t. Nay, her virginity wasn’t the issue. But the question of who’d taught her about carnal knowledge…now that mattered to him.
She’d said she’d given her heart to someone else.
Somewhere out there was a man who’d touched her, who’d taught her to touch herself, yet hadn’t done the honorable thing and offered marriage. That knowledge sent Alistair’s blood pounding.
He had to know.
With a muttered curse, he stomped out of the room to search for her.
Chapter 6
Cook had already taken herself off to bed in the little nook behind the large hearth, so supper was officially over. One of Cook’s helpers had given birth recently, and since they were short-handed, Lara happily stepped in to help when necessary.
Now she was alone in the kitchens with two scullery lasses, who were cleaning pots and serving platters, and an older woman who was preparing porridge to break their fasts the next morning. Lara herself was finishing up the last of tomorrow’s bread loaves and was grateful for the peace.
After spending all yesterday morning with Alistair, she’d gotten a little behind on her duties, but it had been completely worth it. Even though it meant she’d missed supper in the great hall two evenings in a row while she helped in the kitchens, she couldn’t regret what they’d shared.
Nay, not the chicken nor the smiles, the laughter, and especially, not the little touches.
Any time Alistair touched her, even if ‘twas just his fingertips across the back of her hand, Lara shivered at the warmth between them.
She pursed her lips and studied the bread dough, deciding it seemed to be the right texture. She hurried to tip it out, divide it, and slap the chunks onto the board. With floured hands, she shaped the mounds, then stood back to check them.