"Hmm?" She doesn't even open her eyes.
I hold her with one arm while I grab her purse off the floor and root about inside it until I find what must be her house key. When I carry her to the door, I discover the key does open it. She stirs faintly as I enter the house, kicking the door shut behind me, and flick a light switch on as I wander down the hallway that must lead to her bedroom. I see the bathroom, and I peek inside another small space that seems empty. The last room is the right one. It has a bed, and a floor lamp beside it. But I don't see any other furniture. Her living room isn't well-furnished either. A woman who wants to embark on a crazy quest for a mythical treasure must have shedloads of money, aye? How else would she pay for all the equipment we'll need? Yet she barely has anything inside her house. I'd better ask her about that tomorrow.
For now, I pull back the covers on her bed and lay her down on the mattress with a pillow tucked under her head. She moans again, faintly, and stirs a wee bit. I remove her shoes and socks, then I manage to get her jacket off without jostling her overmuch. She licks her lips and wriggles but doesn't open her eyes. Should I remove the rest of her clothes? She cannae sleep in jeans. Can she? No, I should not undress her. I might have seen her naked, and we might've shagged like maniacs, but that doesn't give me leave to strip her while she's asleep.
Instead, I pull the covers over her and tiptoe out of the room. I switch the hall light off on my way out of the house.
As I drive my car to the other side of the street, I start to wonder about this expedition. Ashley hasn't provided any details. I've assumed that's because she wanted to be sure I'd go along with her plan before she explained all of it to me. But in the morning, we will need to have a long conversation about everything involved in this mission. No more sidestepping questions. She told me about her father, but I need to be fully briefed now.
I toss my kilt into the laundry room on my way through the house. I'll need to wash it tomorrow, and possibly ask one of my female cousins how best to remove grass stains from a plaid. Isla might know about that. Or maybe Catriona. Magnus would have no bloody clue, I'm sure.
Ten minutes after I left Ashley's house, I crawl into bed and try to forget about what happened on the green. If we're to be business partners, Ashley and I cannot ever again have a poke. No, never. I got that out of my system tonight, which means I'll have no trouble controlling myself around her. Now, if she cannae stand not to fuck me, well, that's her problem. I will say no.
Absolutely, I will.
Unless she goes down on me again. What? I cannae be blamed for a lass's actions.
Chapter Eight
Ashley
I wake up in the morning with cotton in my mouth and grit in my eyes, not to mention a rat's nest for hair. Do I have to get up this morning? Maybe I could just sleep in for another hour or two…or eight. What happened last night? Did I dream that I had sex with Errol up against a castle wall, and on the grass too? Yeah, I must've dreamed it. I never do anything as irresponsible as that.
Sitting up, I stretch and instinctively slide my hands into my hair.
And a blade of grass falls onto my lap.
Oh, shit. I actually did all of that, didn't I? Maybe Errol gave me the most incredible sexual experience of my life, but that changes nothing. I will not let intense pleasure get in the way of my mission. Vindicating my father matters more to me than anything I might possibly feel toward Errol Murdoch. Not that I feel anything…feely. It was just a "shag," as the explosive Scot likes to say.
I definitely did not hallucinate Errol setting off land mines. Weirdly, watching him do that triggered a hot bolt of lust inside me that led to the unfortunate but mind-blowingly amazing incident on the green.Don't think about that anymore.
At least I kept my cool in the shower—and kept my distance.
But damn, Errol has an incredible body.
No, no, do not think about that. Right, I will focus on the tasks ahead of me this morning. Shower, dress, eat breakfast, go across the street to make sure Errol hasn't backed out. I can handle those tasks, no problem.
Twenty-two minutes later, I step onto the porch of Errol's house and ring the bell. I'm carrying my portfolio, which holds all the pertinent information for our search.
When the door swings open, Errol is wearing workout clothes. Sweat glistens on his exposed arms and darkens the color of his sleeveless gray T-shirt. His shorts reveal most of his powerful legs too. I remember what it felt like to have all his muscles plastered to my body and his hips pumping into me.
Ugh. I told myself I wouldn't think about that anymore.
"Good morning, Ashley," Errol says, as he raises a small towel to wipe sweat off his forehead. "You look as bonnie as ever. Here for another poke?"
"No. I'm here to discuss the expedition."
"Of course you are." He opens the door wider. "Come in, lass. Let's discuss the expedition."
I don't know how he does it, but he turns those simple words into a naughty come-on. I ignore that and walk into the living room, then take a seat on a modestly padded wooden chair.
Errol stops beside me and shakes his head. "Why don't you sit in the recliner? It's more comfortable, and the chair you're sitting on is just for show. Nobody actually wants to rest their erse on it. My cousin Isla picked it for me, and even she said 'donnae rest your erse on it, Errol, it's a show piece.' So go on, Ashley, move to a comfortable seat."
"Why would you have furniture that nobody uses?"
"You're a woman. Don't you know the answer? I never question a lass's ideas about home decor."
He just stands there staring at me with his hands on his hips and his brows raised.