Page 44

And that was when they heard it.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Alisdair stopped and looked back, only to see the sky darken fast.

“A storm is coming,” he told her. “Summer storms can be heavy.”

“Will we reach the castle in time?”

“It’s goin’ to be upon us fast. We need to find shelter.” He looked around and spotted an abandoned shepherd’s cottage. “Follow me.”

They had barely reached the cottage when the rain began to fall hard. Alisdair sent her inside and led the horses into the old shed beside it. By the time he joined her, soaked through, she had found the hut still had its roof and was dry. Some logs had been left beside the fireplace, along with dry hay.

“Nae much, but at least we are dry,” he commented.

Thunder rumbled overhead, almost drowning him out.

He moved to the fireplace and quickly built a fire. Isla laid out a clean cloth on a low table and arranged the bread, cheese, ale flask, and dried meat they had brought with them.

“Nae a feast,” she said.

“It is good.” He settled next to her.

They ate in silence on the floor, him breaking the bread and her cutting the cheese. Eventually, the rain grew heavier, and the wind howled outside.

“Are the horses safe?” Isla asked worriedly.

“I put them in the old shed. It doesnae have a door, but it’s safe.”

“I see ye are capable, after all,” she teased.

“Ye had yer doubts?”

“Aye.”

“The other day when I was building the walls, ye had no trouble admirin’ me,” he reminded her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She threw a piece of bread at him, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Such a violent lass,” he tutted, catching the bread and eating it with exaggerated satisfaction.

“Ye are terrible,” she huffed.

“Nae as bad as yer ridin’,” he teased.

“Me ridin’ was just fine. Ye are bitter that I beat ye.”

“Ye didnae beat me!”

“I reached the foot of the hill first!”

“Ye jumped over that rock.”

“And? Me Luath is lithe and capable. Daenae blame me for that heavy warhorse ye have to carry yer massive body.”

Alisdair’s eyes darkened, and he leaned closer. “Are ye complainin’ about me body?”

The air in the small cottage thickened almost immediately. Her eyes roamed over his body, and he felt it like a physical touch.

He was the one who had set the rules for their marriage, but they seemed to vanish as her breath fanned his face. The hair tangled by the wind tempted him to run his fingers through it, and the skin of her neck was smooth like cream, begging him to taste it.