“Keith, what in the hell is going on?”
“The lady’s setting up her own office, Lyon,” the young man declared cheerfully. “She has work to do on her book—ye ken she’s an author, aye?—and it’d be a waste to have to heat another room in this place.”
When Lyon glowered, Bonnie turned her head to hide her smile, impressed by Keith’s logic. Aye, the castlewasdrafty and made of stone, but the study had a cheerful fire going, which was lovely.
After the door closed behind the young man, she busied herself by setting up her pen and ink, then arranging her papers. One of the chapters, where she’d discussed women’s roles in the medieval household, would absolutely be enhanced by a sketch of one or more of Nessa Oliphant’s medieval embroideries…assuming she could find one which wouldn’t be too shocking.
“What are ye doing?”
She turned from where she’d been peering at the framed embroideries to see him still sitting at the desk in the same position as when she’d entered the study; his forearms braced, and three open books spread out before him.
“I am looking at the needlework. What areyoudoing?”
He blinked, as if he hadn’t expected her to ask him the same question in return. “I’m researching.”
Well, now she was curious. “Researching what?”
Suddenly, his expression softened. Whatever he was doing didn’t make him scowl.
Unlike I do, apparently.
“Something ye said yesterday about—about printing artwork. It made me curious. Printing press technology has advanced in leaps and bounds over the last two decades.”
Her brows rose. The man was researching printing press technology, based on a passing reference she’d made?
“It certainly has,” she agreed. “The presses I bought are almost as old as the building they are in; no wonder old Mr. Grimm sold them to me at such a good price. They are outdated but”—she shrugged—”they do work, thank goodness.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more, but abruptly nodded and lowered his head over the sketch he was making. Was he sketching printing presses? How…interesting. The Beast of the Oliphants was of a mechanical bent. Bonnie tucked that bit of knowledge away to examine later.
To connect with him.
Humming under her breath, she turned back to the framed needlework and tried to focus on what she’d set out to do. After a minute or two, Lyon cleared his throat. “What are ye looking for?”
So he was curious, was he?
Confident he couldn’t see her expression, with her back to him, she grinned, then shrugged nonchalantly.
“I am looking for illustrations I could use in my chapter on medieval life. I am not the best at sketching reproductions, but I cannot print these as they are.” Nonchalantly, she tapped her finger against her lower lip, as if considering. “Which do you think would be easier for a woman like me to draw; this one with the fellatio, or this one where two men are pleasuring the same woman?”
There was the choked sound of a muttered curse behind her, and a chair being slammed backward. She arranged her expression into one of curious innocence and turned to face him.
He was standing, his shoulders heaving as he breathed heavily; his glare impressive.
He was magnificent and not immune to her teasing.
Perhaps he likes hearing the word “fellatio” uttered from your lips.
She’d have to test that theory later.
“Is something wrong, Lyon?”
“Enjoy yer research,” he abruptly snarled, as he leaned over to slam shut one of the books. “I have need of some exercise.”
“But it is snowing,” she pointed out, hiding her grin.
“I’ll be in the great hall. The kind of exercise I have in mind involves Keith’s fists and lots of blood.”
As he stalked out, Bonnie tilted her head to one side and studied his kilt-enclosed arse.
