Free His Lass Wears Tartan by Kathleen Shaputis Page B

back of her chair for support.
    “Forgive my boorish behavior just now. I blame the wine and your exquisiteness. Let me escort you back to the castle, at least.” He stepped to her side and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.
    Without another thought in her clouded, puzzled mind, she walked beside him back across the bridge.
    • • •
    Still flustered from the snarky turn her lunch took with Jonathan, Rogue changed into her jeans and boots then rushed down the stairs. Mumbling to herself with her head down, she moved toward the kitchen door just as Bruce opened it carrying a box of vegetables and almost smacked her in the face.
    “Are you all right? I didn’t expect anyone to be close to the door.” Bruce set the crate down and ran a shaky hand through his ruffled hair. “This running into each other is becoming more dangerous by the day.”
    “It’s my fault,” she said with a sigh. “I wasna watching where I was going. Sorry, sorry.”
    Bruce put a reddened hand on her shoulder. “Hey, no harm done. Why ya looking so gloomy?”
    Her gaze locked on to the concern in his intense green eyes while a delicious fervor spread where his hand touched her. What was the matter with her? How did women flip their thoughts from one guy to another? She felt staged inside a romantic comedy without a script. She forced the edges of her lips into a smile.
    “That’s better.” Bruce smiled back at her, taking his hand from her shoulder and putting it in his back pocket with a nervous jerk. “I heard your gigantic beast when coming in. Seems tension is running amok around here.”
    “He’s got a wee foal due anytime now and doesna like being patient for no one. I was on my way to check on the mama.”
    “Might I come along with you?” Bruce pulled the clipboard from the crate and quickly handed it to Putney for a signature. “I’ve never been much of a horseman myself, but ya gotta love the four-footed
bairns
.”
    “Uh, sure. If you’re done here, let’s go.” He loved horses? She stared at his ruddy, bare arms and well-fit jeans, absorbing his excitement, and like a wizard passing a wand overhead, she looked forward to her day stretching out ahead.
    Putney gave the lad back the clipboard and chuckled. “Careful she doesna put you to work out there. She can be quite pushy in her stables, lad.”
    “Says who?” Rogue yanked on the wooden door and led the way outdoors.
    “Here, let me throw this in the truck.” Bruce tossed the clipboard on the front seat and the empty crate against the truck. “You sure that black devil Dougal will no mind me being so close to his mare? He would seem to be a temperamental father.”
    She slid her arm through Bruce’s and then laughed when his eyebrows shot up. “I’ll protect ya from the beast.”
    Walking out of the bright light into the cool, dark stables, Rogue took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scents. “Best perfume ever. Too bad ya canna buy this in a bottle.”
    Bruce’s mouth opened and closed. “Woman, ya’ve gone daft. I canna believe you’d even describe the smell of a horse as a perfume. It’s okay, earthy and all, I guess. I mean it doesna stink in here.”
    Rogue took her arm away from Bruce and gave his shoulder a playful shove before walking away.
    “Ya donna see me pining for a men’s cologne of fresh vegetables.” Bruce followed her to a stall in the back.
    Soft snuffles and snorts came from a standing satin-black mare in the gated enclosure. Her enlarged stomach made her massive Friesian presence even more impressive. Rogue climbed over the low fencing and cooed at the pregnant mare, approaching with her right arm extended.
    “Hey, my girl. Dinna think I would leave you alone, did ya? Ssh, all is fine.” She looked back over her shoulder where Bruce had propped his foot on the lower rung and crossed his arms watching them both. His eyes were wide, focused, and she felt a flutter in her heart at the odd grin on his face.
    “Miss