“Thank ye,” she mumbled as she looked up. “This will be fine.”
“Goodnight, Your Grace,” he said as he rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
“Goodnight, Yer Grace…” she repeated softly to his retreating back, clutching the wooden spoon in her fingers as her knuckles grew white.
Without thinking, she put it in between her teeth. She bit down hard and shut her eyes tightly. She could not help but think of how far they may have taken their passion if not for the milk.
The bloody milk!
After a moment, she placed the spoon carefully in the sink. With her cup in her hand, she walked out of the kitchen and paused at the foot of the servants’ staircase.
She closed her eyes, allowing the recent memory of the Duke to flash behind her lids.
The startling azure of his eyes. The intimidating breadth of his massive shoulders. The tense line of his jaw.
She licked her lips slowly, savoring the fading sweetness of the chocolate that still lingered on her mouth.
Chapter Twelve
“Tell me more about your brother, the Marquess of Dalrigh,” Oliver asked, his tongue poking out in concentration as he drew a hoof to complete his horse portraiture.
It was the following afternoon, and Isla and Oliver were settled in the morning room. Oliver sat cross-legged on the floor, working on his drawing while Isla sketched a rough map of the Scottish Highlands, marking the lochs and glens she knew so intimately. She took extra care when labeling Dalrigh Hall.
Isla smiled as she thought of home and her brother, the memories immediately warming her.
“Callum? He was a right pest when we were bairns. Full of fire and mischief! Unfortunately, nae much has changed. I think it is just his spirit!”
“Really?”
“He was always tryin’ to get a rise out of me especially,” she recounted, pausing her sketch to look at Oliver. “Once, when I was takin’ me duties as an elder sister too seriously…”
“Yes?”
“Well, he filled me ridin’ boots with cold porridge. When I put me feet in, I let out a shriek that scared even the selkies! It was so freezin’ and full of mush, I can still feel it now.”
Oliver giggled loudly, kicking his legs at the image. “Porridge in the boots! Oh, that is wonderfully wicked! What an idea!” He looked back at her, “And what of your sister…what is her name again?”
“Eilidh.”
“Eilidh,” he repeated thoughtfully. “What was she like when she was little? Was she like you or like Callum?”
“She is even younger than Callum. I was almost ten years old when she was a wee bairn. She was always the beauty of our family, and as lively as me brother but they bicker endlessly. Always have and always will!”
“I hope I get to meet them some day.”
“Oh, ye certainly will. They will like ye very much, Oliver. Now, why nae show me a bit more of yer horse there? I think if weshade right over there, we can get the mane just right,” Isla said as she took the charcoal and held his hand to show him.
“Can you tell me, Isla… what other tricks did your brother do?”
The next morning, after breakfast, Isla found herself engrossed in ordering supplies and seeing to her usual duties.
“I think a half a dozen bags of flour should do,” Mrs. Callahan said.
“If the price is good, I would double it. They will store well.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mrs. Callahan said when she was startled by a sudden sound. “Good heavens, what was that?”
Suddenly, a series of muffled thuds echoed down the main corridor, followed by a sharp bellow from the direction of the Duke’s study.
