Page 44 of Katie's Highlander (Highland Protector 3)
“That ain’t gonna happen! You tell Mistress Macklemurry—” Katie stopped and regrouped. No. It would be better if she handled this. “No. I’ll tell Agnes. She’s to keep her mitts off Flora.” Katie made a mental note to hunt down the drill sergeant of a housekeeper as soon as she went back inside the keep. “I like Flora and she’s the only one I’ll have—got it?” she added.
Gerta’s obnoxiously loud laughter rang out across the hillside.
Katie jerked a thumb in the woman’s direction. “You concentrate on doing something aboutthat.”
“And what would you suggest, wife?” Ramsay blew out a weary sigh as he joined Katie in glaring at Gerta and the smithy doing his damnedest to stay out of her reach. “Other than the cesspit,” he quickly added.
A breeze wafted the distinct aroma of sweaty male across her—her sweaty male, the one who held entirely too much sway over her in his current state of undress. Bronze abs and pecs glistening in Ramsay’s delicious shirtless state forgave a multitude of sins and muskiness. Ramsay scrubbed regularly in his rooms or she would’ve smelled him before now. He didn’t hold a candle to the pungency of the others.
Katie gave him a teasing wrinkle of her nose and sidled a step away, putting a bit of distance between them. “Toss Gerta over the cliff and then see me about making use of that lovely bathtub you ordered made. By the way, thank you.” A sense of benevolence curved her mouth into a suggestive smile. “I don’t mind sharing.”
Ramsay rewarded her with an equally suggestive wink. “I’ll be more than happy to share a bath with ye, wife. We can wash each other’s hard-to-reach spots, aye?”
She had to admit, she did find that thought more than a little appealing. “I’ll make you a deal.” Katie paused in her challenge, giving Ramsay a daring look. “You figure out a way other than the cesspit or even the cliff to get rid of Gerta, and I’ll wash any spot you want—as long as you want too.”
Snaking an arm around her waist, Ramsay pulled her tight against him and nuzzled a kiss to the tender skin behind her ear. “Deal. And I already have a plan in motion, wife,” he rumbled against her neck like a great purring panther, then kissed her again. “If all goes as planned, ‘twill be done by tonight’s feast.”
“Another feast?” Katie didn’t care that she sounded like a kid whining about having to eat broccoli for a second time in a week. She was sick and tired of feasting. If Brant was her golden ticket to getting back home, they needed to help that boy do whatever he was supposed to do and do it fast.
“Aye.” Ramsay released her then lifted his sword and slid a thumb along its edge. “Three more clans have arrived.” He paused and drew the sword closer to his face, scowling at the honed edge. “Take heart, though, dear wife. Tonight should be the last of the fealty gatherings for a while.” He gave Katie a downcast look that pulled at her heart. “The men of the north nearly wiped out most of the druid clans. There are no’ that many left.”
Katie squeezed Ramsay’s arm. “But you know the clans survive. You told me about the ones back in North Carolina.”
Waving the smithy’s assistant over, Ramsay handed the young man his sword. “A weakness. Just there in the blade.” The assistant nodded, made a quick bow, then scurried back to his master.
Ramsay folded his arms and thoughtfully watched the men and boys still out on the field practicing. “Our coming here may have changed things. We willna know unless we go back.”
Unless?The birch bark tea in her stomach gurgled out adid you hear what he saidgrowl. “What do you mean by ‘unless’?”
Ramsay looked at her for a long while. Too long a while and she didn’t like what she saw in his eyes. Finally, he spoke. “Would it be so bad if we continued our lives here? Forever?”
Katie did her best to remain calm instead of grabbing hold of Ramsay’s shoulders and shaking him until his teeth rattled. She pulled in a deep breath of the cloying, damp, barnyard air of the practice field and slowly blew it out, sorting through her words before she spoke. “I have an unfinished life back in the twenty-first century, Ramsay. I’d rather finish that one than start a new one here.”
She saw disappointment darken his face before he glanced down at the ground and turned away. She couldn’t help it. She had to be honest. “Don’t you want to get back to your family? Your business? What about your father? Don’t you think he might need you?” She was clutching at straws here because Ramsay had finally voiced what she’d suspected all along. Ramsay loved this life. Thistimefit him perfectly—like a favorite pair of well-worn jeans that hugged your ass and didn’t cut you in half whenever you sat down.
Ramsay faced her, giving her a sad smile that made her feel like an ungrateful piece of shit. “I’ll get ye back to yer life, Katie,” he said quietly, then reached out and cupped the curve of her jaw with his callused hand. “I love it here—but no’ as much as I love you. I pray ye know that in yer heart.”
Sweat and mud be damned, Katie squeezed herself tight into his arms. Face turned to his salty-sweet neck, she decided that maybe he didn’t smell all that bad after all. He loved her. Something inside her twitched—a good twitch. Like the feel of everything falling into place right where it belonged.
“I love you too,” she whispered, feeling a little guilty that she’d so easily pull him away from his happy place just to be with her. She raised her head and smiled. “I just really need indoor plumbing. You know?”
“Aye, lass. I know.” Ramsay gently set her aside and motioned Brant over.
Katie’s heart hitched. Their talk was officially over. Ramsay had shut down—just like he’d frequently done back in the twenty-first century.
Brant’s face lit up when he realized that Ramsay was calling him.
“I’ll leave you to it. I know you’re busy,” she said, suddenly feeling the need to be alone.
Ramsay caught hold of her arm. “Wait, if ye will.”
Brant reached them, politely ducking his head in Katie’s direction. “M’lady.”
Rich voice. Not deep as his daddy’s but that might come with age.Katie smiled and nodded. “How are you this morning, Brant?”
Keeping his gaze lowered, Brant smiled. “I couldna be better, m’lady.”
“Brant!” Gerta’s screeching call cut through the air.
