Page 42 of Highlander’s Captive

He entered, taking up all of the space with his presence. The air was sucked out of Amy’s lungs from the sight of him, making her forget all of her anger and indignation about Fergus. Craig’s hair was a little damp and clung to his forehead… Did he take a bath? The thought of his body, naked and wet and tall and hard…

Oh, was she a schoolgirl? Melting like that at the sight of a handsome man.

Their eyes locked, then his traveled to her lips. “Everything all right, lass?”

As long as he looked at her like that, she’d be all right. “Yes,” she said.

Fergus and the rest did not lift their heads, their hands busy. They looked like naughty schoolboys in the presence of the teacher.

Well, Fergus had just basically compared their lord’s wife to a goat. If she wanted, Amy could have his ass thoroughly punished just now.

But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t rat on her team, no matter how badly they behaved.

Didn’t mean that she couldn’t teach him a lesson.

“I don’t know,” she said and looked pointedly at Fergus. “Is everything all right, Fergus?”

One of Fergus’s eyes twitched, his nostrils flared, but he continued peeling the parsnip. “Aye, mistress,” he mumbled. “Why wouldna it be?”

“I think you promised to finish peeling the parsnip you dropped. Didn’t you?”

Fergus glared at her, his jaw muscles working.

“Or did I misunderstand your MacDougall goat joke?” Amy pressed.

“What joke?” Craig asked.

Fergus’s mouth pulled into a spiteful curve. He looked like he was about to spit at Amy. “Nae, ye got it right, mistress,” he said finally and picked up the parsnip.

Amy nodded, satisfied. Military authority was military authority in the Middle Ages, as well. And they definitely respected Craig.

“Good,” Amy said. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

She turned to Craig. “Did you want something?”

“Aye.” Craig looked around the kitchen, still puzzled. “I need yer assistance. Ye said ye had healing skills.”

“Well, not healing exactly, just first aid stuff…”

Damn, first aid probably didn’t mean anything to him.

“Um,” she said. “Yes, I have some healing experience. Is anyone hurt?”

“Aye. First aid or nae, ye’re the best we got. Ye better come with me.”

Amy nodded, undid her apron, and put it on the large table. “Angus, please take my place cutting the vegetables until I’m back.”

“Aye, mistress,” Angus said.

Craig let Amy go through the door, his warm, masculine scent touching her as she passed by him, making her pulse accelerate. “What was that about a goat joke?” he said when they were in the courtyard.

Cold air bit Amy’s cheeks and nose, reminding her that winter was not far away. The courtyard hummed quietly with voices, and a small gathering stood by the gates.

“Nothing to concern you with,” Amy lied. “Everything’s under control. They are not thrilled to be chopping veg, but someone has to, right?”

“Aye.”

“Who’s hurt?”