The Ghosts of Culloden Moor 31 - Tristan by L.L. Muir

Author:L.L. Muir [Muir, L.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2017-08-22T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Patient. Kind. Gentle. Attentive. All those terms were excellent advice for kissing a lass. Once Tristan had initiated the embrace, he reminded himself not to rush things.

Patient. Check.

He gave her ample room to breathe while he advanced his assault on her senses.

Kind. Check.

Since a rough kiss couldn’t go on forever, he held himself in check, pressing only enough to maintain the slow dance.

Gentle. Check.

And never in the history of kissing had a man been so aware of the lass beneath his hands. Though he touched only the vaguest details of her hips, he felt each breath as it brought her closer to him, then drew her away.

Attentive? Please.

But his newly restored and acute senses caught a sound that made him moan with dread—the sound of small feet galloping toward him on wet stones.

I thought I was rid of that dog!

Audie ended the kiss abruptly, and he could tell she’d all but forgotten he was there when she stooped to pet the pup. “He’s still here!” She poured all her attention upon the creature, then narrowed her eyes at him. “Admit it. He’s your dog.”

He sighed. “It is neither my dog, nor is it a male.”

“Oh!” She blushed, which only made him want to kiss her again. But thanks to the unwelcomed beast, the opportunity passed.

“How would ye like to picnic with me up to the falls? It is not so far, and a lovely place for…exploring.” And far from miscreants on four legs who try to make him out to be a liar.

“Can we take the dog along?”

He had to think quickly. “Auch, nay. Mr. Hardie has put up notices. We wouldn’t want the owner to come along and not find his wee beastie, aye?”

She obviously still thought the dog was his, but couldn’t argue with his reasoning. And after exacting a promise from him not to go anywhere, she headed back to the house to arrange for a basket of food, leaving him and the pup alone on the beach.

“I dinna ken what ye want with me, dog.”

The beast watched the lass go, gave Tristan only cursory consideration, then searched the shore for something more interesting than him. After sniffing too close to the water and sneezing, it turned and made its way back again. It stopped suddenly, snuffled quite excitedly in a small radius, then began digging as if a life depended upon it.

Tristan’s heart shuddered in his chest, stirred by an ancient memory. And while he looked on, the white and tan spaniel digging on the beach became his own red dog digging up the very hole in which Tristan had buried his treasured gems! The large flat rock he’d used as a capstone had been dragged aside, but he would recognize it anywhere.

“Cowlie, leave it be!” He heard the familiar words come from his mouth. They even tasted the same as they had so long ago. Impatience came with them as a matter of course. Cowlie, leave it be! How many hundreds of times had

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