Page 335 of Wicked Highland Heroes

She stared, confused.

“Come now, lass,” Maude put in. “Why go on with this ruse?”

“Ruse?” Victoria split a glance between her two adversaries. “He is standing before us and yet you continue with your tale?”

Maude gave her an odd look, then turned to Iain. “Laird, what happened the morning you visited V— er, the lass?”

“Nothing happened,” he boomed, “but if someone does not explain what is going on, something is likely to happen.” He looked at Victoria. “Is there something I should know? Who else were you expecting?”

Victoria stilled. “Are you saying you did come that morning?”

He bent down, nose to nose with her. “Who were you expecting?”

“Not you!” She shoved his chest. Iain fell back a step and Victoria advanced on him. “How dare you?” Clenching her hand into a fist, she hit his stomach.

Pain radiated up her arm. She recoiled with a howl. “Now look what you have done.” She rubbed the injured hand.

“I—”

“Never do that again,” she growled.

Iain’s forehead creased. “’Tis not my fault you were foolish enough to hit me.”

“Oh, no.” Victoria shook her head. “This is your fault and more—and you know I am not speaking of that.” She jabbed at his stomach.

Iain’s glance flicked from his abdomen to Maude. “What in the name of the devil happened while I was away?”

“Who gave you leave to come uninvited into my bedchamber?” Victoria demanded.

His head snapped in her direction, lips thinned.

“Do not think to intimidate me with that look. You had no right.” She threw her hands up and strode to the counter. Palms down, she leaned against the counter, closed her eyes and took a calming breath.

“Is this shrewish tirade because I visited you the day I left?” he demanded.

Victoria opened her eyes and caught sight of the bowl containing the beginnings of shortbread batter sitting on the counter. She gripped the bowl edges and looked over her shoulder. “Shrewish tirade? Nay, my lord, you are mistaken. This, however, may suffice.” Victoria spun, bowl in hand. The batter spewed outward. The majority hit Iain in a splattered spray, leaving the remainder in a wide arc across the kitchen walls.

A collective gasp went up. Iain looked down at the batter blotched across breacan and white shirt, then back at Victoria. His gaze held hers, and her pulse jumped when he stalked toward her. He neared and she retreated. He took another slow step closer and she retreated more, until shoulders met hard stone and he stopped inches from her. With deliberation, Iain took a finger and wiped some of the mixture off his sash. His eyes never left hers as he lifted the finger and put it in his mouth. With a loud sucking sound, he pulled it out.

“Shortbread,” he remarked. “How fortunate for me you had not added the flour.”

Victoria blinked. He gave a low laugh and stretched his arms out on both sides of her, trapping her against the wall.

“If you wanted to share, sweet, you might have asked.”

He leaned so close his breath fanned her eyelashes. A glint entered his eyes and she belatedly comprehended his intention. Iain rubbed against her, smearing the sweet batter across the front of her dress. Soft contours of her breasts gave way to hard muscle and her nipples tightened. She gasped in surprise. His gaze sharpened. Iain seized her shoulders and yanked her against him, giving her a hard kiss. She lifted a foot with the intention of slamming the heel down on his boot, but he pushed away in time to escape.

“Now, now, love,” he drawled as he headed for the door, “save something for later. Maude, a hot bath, if you please.” He paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder at Victoria. “Would you care to join me?”

She started to retort, but Iain shifted his attention to the housekeeper. “Oh, and Maude, if you are of a mind to tell me what mischief you are about, it may go easier for you than if I am left to puzzle it out for myself.”

His laughter lingered long after he was through the great hall and up the stairs.