Highland Steel (The Highland Chronicles Book 3) by Elizabeth Rose

Author:Elizabeth Rose [Rose, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RoseScribe Media Inc.
Published: 2020-02-18T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Logan woke up the next morning feeling happy and refreshed, having had one of the best nights of his life. What had started out as a swim to cool him down, ended up as a heated, passionate night of making love with Rhoswen. He had been dreaming of coupling with her all night long. He kissed her and she kissed him. Then he licked her breasts, and she licked his . . . face?

His eyes popped open to find a long tongue lapping out at him and a godawful ugly mutt staring him in the face. “What the hell!” He pushed the dog away and sat up in bed. “Trapper! Who let that hound in here?”

“That’s guid, Trapper. That’s enough,” said Ethan, sitting at the table with his legs outstretched and his arms crossed as he leaned back on the chair. The door was open. Jack sat on the threshold wagging his tail. Caleb sat on the bed cradling his pine marten, scowling at Jack. Hawke leaned a shoulder against the wall, staring out the window.

“What’s all this?” asked Logan. “What’s goin’ on?”

“That’s what we want to ken,” said Hawke, still staring out the window. “So, went for a swim last night did ye?”

“Aye.” His eyes darted over to Ethan who was busying himself shining his dagger on the edge of his plaid. “I always go for a swim. So what’s the problem?”

“Was anyone with ye?” asked Caleb.

“Jack was.” Logan stood up and stretched and yawned. “Tell them, Jack. We had a nice swim and a stroll on the beach.”

Jack whined and looked the other way. Logan heard the cry of Hawke’s red tail and the bird descended, landing right outside the door. Jack lowered its head and stalked it.

“Leave Apollo alone,” Hawke called out. The bird shrieked and took off in flight with Jack running after it, jumping and snapping its jaws in midair.

“Dammit, I think we need to keep him on a leash,” growled Hawke.

“A leash? Jack has never been on a leash and never will.” Logan walked over to the table and poured himself a tankard of ale and plopped down on the chair, trying to wake up.

“It wasna the wolf he was talkin’ about,” murmured Ethan, reaching out and petting his hound with one hand.

“Well, if ye think Trapper needs to be tied up, then do it,” said Logan.

“We’re talkin’ about ye, no’ the hound.” Hawke walked over and slammed his hand down on the table. It scared the dog, sending it running out the open door.

“What in the clootie’s name are ye so mad about?” asked Logan, running a hand through his tangled hair.

“Sleep in yer clothes last night?” asked Caleb, letting his pine marten snoop around the floor as he came over and poured a cup of ale as well.

Logan looked down to his wrinkled tunic and dirty plaid that was still wet from the beach. “I guess so,” he said with a shrug.

“Ye wouldna have had those clothes if I hadna saved them from the tide last night,” said Ethan.

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