He gave a wry laugh of agreement. “I might need to change my clothes, or risk smelling of piglet on our ramble this afternoon.”
“I don’t mind,” said Juliet. And strangely—surprisingly—she didn’t.
His brow gathered for an instant and released. She’d surprised him, too. “Even so,” he said, “a quick wash at the yard pump wouldn’t go amiss.”
Juliet glanced at her own hands coated in piglet grime. “You’re likely right about that.”
Kilmuir took hold of the handle and said, “You’ll want to stand back a few more feet. When the water comes, it’s a gusher.”
He gave a forceful heave of the handle, and the water did, indeed, slosh out in a great wave, coating not only Juliet’s hands but her spencer nearly up to her armpits. She jumped back on a startled laugh. “Now, it’s your turn.”
She took hold of the handle and gave it her all, but only a trickle of water poured forth. “Hey!” she groused.
Kilmuir rubbed his hands together beneath the measly trickle of water. “It’s enough, lass.”
Something occurred inside Juliet.
Lass.
She liked being called lass.
By him.
“One more pump,” he said.
Juliet did as instructed. Another measly trickle of water.
Kilmuir removed his red kerchief and wet it before swiping it along the back of his neck. A few beads of water escaped down his clavicle, trailing down the open V of his shirt.
Oh.
Her eyes should lift. They should dart away and take in any number of the happenings around her—Clootie nuzzling her hand for a stroke, a maid hauling a bucket of milk from a barn… She could even count the individual stones of Baile Ìm. But her eyes refused to tear themselves away from the man before her, and the bead of water that led the gaze down… A hint of muscle—muscle whose solid steel she’d experienced yesterday when he’d caught her—a fuzz of golden hair…
As if the force of her gaze had the power to will his shirt away, she stared. A sudden and ferocious desire to see more—all—made the breath catch in her chest. Surely, the bead of water had reached his stomach…the waistband of his trousers…and below that…
Oh.
So, this was what lust felt like.
Her infatuation for this man seemed to have entered a new phase.
A throat cleared.
Histhroat.
Her gaze startled up.
“Are you ready for our afternoon explorations?” he asked, his gaze giving nothing away.
“Erm”—she cleared her throat—“yes.”
He grabbed a knapsack and tossed it over his shoulder. “Provisions.”
She nodded and gathered herself. She was known for her composure. She wouldn’t let it fail her now as she fell into step—not behind him, but not exactly beside him either—as he led her into the Scottish wilderness.
Well, not precisely the wilderness. Not yet, anyway. For now, they were cutting across fields of his land. Some fields were used for crops, and others for animals, mostly sheep. Yet others lay fallow. They’d made it to the middle of one such field when a loudmoosounded.
Kilmuir came to a sudden stop, causing Juliet to stumble over her feet. “What is it?” she asked, low, feeling the whisper warranted for some reason.