The Judge by Greyson Maeve

Author:Greyson, Maeve
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2020-05-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The garden behind the keep teemed with children. Their excited squeals and laughter filled the air as they raced after each other among the mazes of trees, bushes, and squared off plots of freshly turned earth planted with herbs and vegetables. Auntie Yeva sat on a bench in the middle of the fray, focused on a pile of mending in her lap as she minded the children.

Alasdair leaned against the newly built stone archway of the covered walkway, amused by the bairns’ boisterous game of seize the castle. Aye. They’d all be fine warriors someday. He rubbed his back against the rough edge of the chiseled wall, scratching an itch he couldn’t reach. The fortified walkway hemmed in the garden from the rest of the keep’s busy courtyard, a futile attempt at keeping the young ones penned.

Willa’s furious shriek as she charged at the boys with wooden sword raised gave him a smile but also weighed heavy on his heart. The wee lass reminded him of Isobel when they had played together all those years ago. He longed for the ten years wasted all because of fate’s cruelty. His own wee ones might have been at play today if not for that lost time. He shook away the thought. ’Twas futile to think of such. The past could neither be changed nor recovered.

“Willa may be the only girl, but I believe she’ll be the fiercest of them all.” Isobel appeared at his side, wiping her hands on her apron.

“She reminds me of ye. The way ye used to boss us about whilst we played.” Alasdair pulled her close and kissed her temple. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent, realizing at once that to do so was a mistake. His body roared to life, indignant and suffering because he’d not relented and returned to her bed since they had arrived at Tor Ruadh.

He kissed her again, then shifted away. “Ye smell of lavender and rosemary,” he said with a slight cough as he yanked at the drape of his kilt. She didn’t need any further proof of the power she held over him. He sniffed again, noticing the apron around her waist. “Sweet butter and honey, too. What have ye been about? Have ye treats for me, perhaps?” His stomach growled at the prospect.

“Aye, I have treats.” She gave him a teasing look and stepped closer. “The ladies and I have been busy making soaps and lotions,” she informed him in a seductive whisper. “If ye’d care to join me in a walk down to the stream beside the caves, I’d be more than happy to give ye a hearty sampling.” She took hold of his shoulder and leaned in until her breasts pressed against him. Her breath tickled across his ear. “We could wash each other like husbands and wives are known to do. Think about it.”

Alasdair clenched his teeth to keep from groaning. Nay. He’d sworn he would not lie with her again until she was his wife for true.

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