Katie let out a low hum. “He held himself back.”
Scarlett nodded once. “And I didnae ken whether to be relieved, or furious.”
Before Katie could answer, voices drifted across the garden, deep and unmistakable. Scarlett’s head snapped up, breath catching.
Leon’s hearty tone carried first. “Ye need to loosen that brow, Robert. It looks like it’s carved in stone.”
Robert’s reply was lower, edged with gravel. “I’ve nae time for levity, Leon. There’s too much at stake.”
Scarlett froze, charcoal still in her hand, Katie glancing at her with wide eyes.
“Do they walk the garden often?” Scarlett whispered.
Katie shook her head. “Nae. Seems today ye’ve good luck—or ill luck, depending how ye see it.”
Scarlett leaned forward, straining to hear, every nerve on edge.
Scarlett shifted on the bench, trying to pretend she wasn’t straining to catch more of Robert and Leon’s words. Katie leaned her chin into her hand, eyes glinting like she was up to mischief.
Scarlett turned then stopped cold.
Through the carved arch of the atrium, she saw them. Both shirtless, both armed with wooden practice swords.
Scarlett’s breath caught in her throat.
Robert’s chest was broad, slick with sweat that gleamed in the late-morning sun. Muscles coiled and flexed with each strike, his movements precise, brutal, the kind of force only a man born to fight could wield. His dark hair clung damp at his nape, a lock sliding across his brow as he swung.
Leon barked a laugh, blocking with ease. “Ye’re getting slow, McLaren!”
Scarlett should have looked away. She didn’t. She couldn’t. Heat pooled low in her belly, hot and shameless.
Saints preserve me, I’m staring at the man like a tavern wench spying coin on the table.
Katie chuckled beside her. “Oh, ye’ve gone red as a beet. Careful, lass, if he turns that way, he’ll see ye undressing him with yer eyes.”
Scarlett snapped her sketchbook shut with a crack. “I am not—” “Aye, ye are.” Katie grinned, unrepentant. “It’s nay shame. I’ve eyes too. And sweet mercy, look at the cut of that back.”
Scarlett’s eyes betrayed her again. Robert twisted, driving Leon back with a punishing strike, and the ridges of his back stood out like they’d been carved by some god drunk on perfection. She swallowed hard.
Katie leaned closer, whispering wickedly, “Bet the man could snap a branch between his thighs.”
Scarlett choked on her own breath, clutching her skirts. “Katie!”
“What? Ye thought of it first.” Katie smirked, enjoying every flicker of mortification crossing Scarlett’s face. “Ye’re sitting here sighing like a lass in midsummer, looking at him swing that sword.”
“I wasnae sighing,” Scarlett hissed, cheeks blazing. “And ye’ve a rotten mind.”
Katie laughed so hard, she nearly spilled the drink still in her hand.
Scarlett dared another glance. Robert’s eyes met hers.
The world tipped.
His swing slowed, and his chest heaved as though he had meant for her to catch that moment–him, all sweat and strength, raw power barely contained. He knew she was there. He knew she was watching.
Scarlett’s heart hammered like a drum.
Katie elbowed her. “Well now, he kens it. Look at that stare. Me Lady, ye’ll melt clean off that bench if he keeps at ye so.”
