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‘I’ll have a word with the lads. Oh, and I’ll try and spare yer pretty face. You don’t want to show a black eye to the McCrieffs.’
‘I’d try and spare yours, too, if only I could tell it apart from your arse.’
‘Just for that I’ll have you flat on yours, young lad.’
‘We shall see, old man. Lead on.’
Chapter Nineteen
‘Jo! Come see. Papa is winning! I think...’
‘Winning what?’
Jo moved towards where Jamie was leaning against the nursery window. For a change, Flops was alert, half-standing with his paws pressed against the window by his master’s side, his huffing breath clouding the glass.
She followed their gaze to the stable yards, where it looked like the whole of the castle and quite a few of the temporary staff taken on ahead of the ball were gathered around two men dressed in nothing but buckskins and boots. The two moved about the open circle created by the wall of servants. It might as well have been a dance, elegant and light, but she could feel the force of it even at this distance. The late afternoon sun gleamed orange and red off their bare chests and arms, dancing and gliding along their perspiration-slicked shoulders.
The only man she had ever seen without his shirt had been Alfred. He possessed good arms but he had been boyishly slim and his chest as bare as a boy’s. Benneit and Angus were built on a larger, rougher scale, but though Angus was yet larger, it was Benneit who caught and held her gaze.
He is beautiful. Utterly, utterly beautiful, her heart and body agreed, throwing a sack over her mind and shoving it into a closet as it tried to remind them of his flaws.
His body was long and elegant, with broad shoulders and a shading of dark hair across his chest tapering downwards, making her fingers twitch with the need to test that silky arrow. His muscles were as defined as a museum statue, though they looked much warmer—sun-kissed and slick with sweat that would glide under her hands...
Her palms were hot and tingling with the imagined sensation—her fingers curving over the bulge of his bicep and into the cool hollow at his elbow before finding the hair-roughened, sinewy strength of his forearm.
She could see the rise and fall of his chest, the trickle of sweat on his cheek and neck. Every line was enhanced by the tension in his body as he moved slowly around the circle, half-facing Angus who was doing the same. She could have sworn she caught his scent from here, closed window or not—cool and musky, the sea and the male animal prowling. She was hot with it and it was hard to breathe. She leaned her hand on the cool stone by the window and when Jamie spoke, she was shocked to realise she had forgotten his presence.
‘They’re looking for openings,’ Jamie explained. ‘Papa’s lighter on his feet and faster, but Angus can pick up an oak with his bare hands and break a bone between his fingers.’
Jo’s stomach clenched, her fear beating back the treacherous heat a little. She was still angry and hurt, but however much she had wanted to throw something at Lochmore, she really, really didn’t want anyone hurting him.
‘Oh my goodness!’ Jo exclaimed in shock as Angus swung what looked like an enormous arm, but the Duke shifted aside, coming up hard against Angus who bent over and stumbled sideways. There was a muted mix of roars and groans and Jamie clapped his hands.
‘Right in the pudding box! Gave him a leveller!’
‘Jamie! Why on earth are they fighting?’
Jamie snorted in disgust.
‘It’s not fighting, it’s sparring. One day Papa will teach me, too. No one in all the Highlands can take him down, not even Angus and he’s as strong as a boulder. One day I’ll be just as strong and just as fast. Ah, flute...’
‘What now?’
‘It’s over,’ Jamie said in disappointment.
Jo didn’t answer, just pressed a hand to her racing heart and watched the two men as they clapped each other on the back and Angus gave a not-so-light pummel on Benneit’s shoulder. Benneit was smiling, no, grinning, his face warm with life. This was neither the Duke nor Bella’s suitor. She did not even notice as Jamie hurried out, but stood there watching until the two men disappeared from view. She peeled her perspiring hand away from her racing pulse and pressed it to the cool windowpane, but that only made her feel hotter, her lovely dress suddenly an ungainly sack about her, weighing her down. The thought of being bare, of feeling a warm, large hand settle on her shoulder, of being able to touch...
