Page 96 of The Scot Beds His Wife

Watching the elder Monahan in horror as he grappled the stubborn animal into the barn, Samantha set her skirt to rights and then blindly groped around for her cane.

Her husband hauled her out of the straw pile and shoved her cane into her hand just in time for the grizzled Irishman to notice them, and narrow suspicious amber eyes.

“Eammon!” she greeted brightly. “We were just… I mean I tripped and…”

“I know just exactly how ye got in that pile of straw, lassie, and who put you there.” A glower furrowed beneath his beard, but a twinkle of laughter in his eyes gave away his good humor. “You forget I’ve been around the Mackenzie for well nigh thirty years now.”

“Ye know I’m no Mackenzie.” Gavin plucked a few errant straws from her hair, and Samantha suppressed a self-conscious giggle.

“Aye, but what’s in your trousers still is.”

“Careful, old man,” her husband growled, but there was no real heat in the warning.

Eammon crossed himself, thrice, and complained to the stubborn animal beside him. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I forgot that with newlyweds about you have to check every shadow to be sure they’re not tupping in it. Now this straw’s not fit for good Catholic horses anymore.”

“What we did was no sin,” Samantha pointed out. “We’re married.”

“Was more than a wee bit wicked, though.” Gavin pinched her bottom through her skirts and planted a kiss on her cheekbone before sauntering over to Demetrius with a loose, lanky stride.

Samantha tried, and failed, not to appreciate the view as he walked away from her.

“What are ye about, Eammon?” His voice retained a husky note that elicited a secret feminine pleasure to warm her middle.

All traces of levity vanished as the stable master cast her a speaking glance before answering his lord. “I’m after the cart, as we’ve some… rubbish to haul from Erradale.”

“Corpses, you mean?” Samantha decided now was not the time to mince words.

“Aye. We’re glad of the freeze on their account, I can tell you that.”

A wave of nausea overtook a flare of anxiety, and Samantha swallowed a threatening flood of moisture. “What’s to be done with them?”

What she really wanted to ask was,What will happen to me?

Gavin’s eyes narrowed. “Throw them in the sea from the Dubh Gohrm Cliffs and let the Selkies feast on their bones for all I care.”

Eammon’s expression told Samantha that she wasn’t the only one present astonished by the dark vehemence in her husband’s tenor. “But Thorne, they’re each of them Pinkertons. Not exactly agents of the American government, but… they’ll be missed.” He lent his words a regretful grimace.

“Do I look like I give a ripe shite?”

Indeed, he didnot. Samantha checked to be sure.

In a powerful yet graceful motion, Gavin mounted his steed and danced around the mule to the tall stable doors. “I’ll claim the pleasure of disposing of them, myself,” he snarled, morphing from the languid lover of only a few moments ago, to a muscled mass of wrath and retribution. “I’ll send the Pinkertons a message. I’ll inform them that their men came tomyland, injured and threatened the life ofmywoman. That I put holes in them,myself. And if I see one more of their so-called detectives set foot in the Highlands, I’ll ship pieces of their butchered corpses back to their offices in crates full of their blood.”

He gave a harshyah,and spurred Demetrius into a leap, galloping from the stables and across the bridge without a backward glance.

Samantha stared after him, the sudden chill against her tongue telling her that her mouth had fallen open.

“And he says he’s not a Mackenzie.” Eammon snorted. “What utter horseshit.”

His woman?He’d take the blame for her? A sense of emphatic relief threatened the strength of her knees. He’d said he’d protect her, that Inverthorne would be her sanctuary. But… she hadn’t expected that in such a short time,and without being asked, he’d already begun to set the matter to rights.

Remembering himself, Eammon mumbled, “Do pardon the profanity, my lady.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “None of that is necessary. You can call me Sam.”

“Nonsense. You’re a countess now.”

Oh. Right.“I may be a countess but I’m no lady.” She pulled a face. “Are you still planning to take the cart to Erradale?”