When a Scot Ties the Knot by Tessa Dare

Author:Tessa Dare
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Over breakfast the next morning, Rabbie cocked an eyebrow at him. “Still no progress on the bedding front?”

Logan stared straight forward. He refused to acknowledge the question.

“That’s a no, I take it.”

“Are you certain you’re applying yourself?” Callum asked.

Logan gave him a sharp look.

“You’ve got to be the Rob Roy of her imaginings. Are you calling her a ‘bonny lass’? The Englishwomen’s hearts go all a-­flutter at that.”

“What do you know about the hearts of Englishwomen?”

“He’s got the right of it,” Rabbie put in. “ ‘Bonny lass’ is good. ‘Wee bonny lass’—­well, that’s even better.”

“ ‘Yer wee bonny lassie,’ ” said Callum, taking the improvement one step further. “Throw in lots of ‘och’ and ‘aye’ and ‘dinna fash yerself,’ too.”

Rabbie shook his head. “You’re all missing the obvious answer.”

“What’s that?” Munro asked.

Logan was glad Munro had asked, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to. But truth be told, he was coming to the end of his patience. If he didn’t have her soon, he was going to go mad with wanting. At this point, he was willing to listen to any idea, no matter how ridiculous—­even if it came from Rabbie.

Rabbie hunched over to whisper. “She’s got to see him with his kit off. Shirt, plaid, all of it.”

A coarse whoop rose up from the men.

Logan rolled his eyes and stabbed his meat with his knife.

“No, I mean it,” Rabbie said, standing up. “Here’s how it goes. You rise early one morning, Captain. Choose a misty one, when the gloom’s settled like a blanket over the valley.”

He waved his flattened hand before them like an artist painting a landscape. “You strip down to your skin, and then you have a dip in the loch. Wait until she comes looking for you. Because she will. They always do. But pretend not to notice when she does. And then—­just when she’s close enough to see and she’s been watching for a while, you rise up out of the water. Like a dolphin. Or a mermaid. Shooting up through the mist and pushing your hair back with both hands”—­Rabbie thrust both hands through his hair to demonstrate—­“with all the little beads of water trickling down over the ridges of your shoulders and chest.” He danced his fingers down his belly. “Like so.”

Munro snorted. “So he’s supposed to go down to the loch at half-­crack o’ the morning, paddle about in the frigid water for an hour or two, and then emerge? I’m finding it difficult to believe she’d see anything impressive.”

Everyone laughed. Even Grant.

“You lot can laugh,” Rabbie said, “but mark my word, Captain. Get your kit off. The next time you have her in your arms, she won’t be able to resist.”

“I’ve been married,” said the habitually silent Fyfe. “I’ll tell you what she wants. She wants your secrets. She wants your soul. You’ve got to crack yourself open and find that broken, shameful piece of your heart that you’d hide from the world and God Himself if you could manage it.

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