To Tame A Highland Warrior
Page 21

“Cloister?” Quinn said after a stunned silence.
“The nunnery,” she clarified.
“As in wed to the Christ and none other?” Ramsay groaned.
“As in,” Jillian confirmed around a mouthful of sausage.
Grimm didn’t say a word as he left the Greathall.
A few hours later Jillian was wandering the outer bailey, quite aimlessly, certainly not of a mind to wonder where one specific man might have gotten off to, when Kaley ducked out the back entrance of the castle just as she passed.
“The cloister, is it? Really, Jillian,” Kaley reprimanded.
“By the saints, Kaley, they were telling stories about me!”
“Charming stories.”
“Humiliating stories.” Jillian’s cheeks colored.
“Endearing stories. True stories, not outrageous fibs like you told.”
“Kaley, they’re men,” Jillian said, as if that should explain everything.
“Mighty fine men, at that, lass. Your da brings the cream of the crop here for you to choose a husband, and you go and tell them you’re destined for a nunnery.”
“You knew my da brought them here for that?”
Kaley flushed.
“How did you know?”
Kaley looked embarrassed. “I was eavesdropping from the solar when you were spying over the balustrade. You really must stop doffing your clothes in front of the window, Jillian,” she chided.
“I didn’t do it on purpose, Kaley.” Jillian pursed her lips and scowled. “For a moment I thought Mother and Da had told you, even though they hadn’t told me.”
“No, lass. They didn’t tell anyone. And maybe they were a bit heavy-handed, but you can approach this in one of two ways: You can be angry and spiteful and ruin your chances, or you can thank Providence and your da for fetching you the best of the best, Jillian.”
Jillian rolled her eyes. “If those men are the best, then it’s the cloister for certain.”
“Jillian, come on, lass. Don’t fight what’s best for you. Choose a man and quit being mulish.”
“I don’t want a man.” Jillian seethed.
Kaley measured her a long moment. “What are you doing wandering around out here, anyway?”
“Enjoying the flowers.” Jillian shrugged nonchalantly.
“Don’t you usually ride in the morning, then go to the village?”
“I didn’t feel like it this morning. Is that a crime?” Jillian said peevishly.
Kaley’s lip twitched in a smile. “Speaking of riding, I believe I saw that handsome Highlander Ramsay down by the stables.”
“Good. I hope he gets trampled. Although I’m not certain there’s a horse tall enough. Perhaps he could lie upon the ground and make it easier.”
Kaley searched Jillian’s face intently. “Quinn told me he was going to the village to fetch some whisky from MacBean.”
“I hope he drowns in it,” Jillian said, then looked at Kaley hopefully.
“Well,” Kaley drawled, “I guess I’ll be heading back to the kitchens. There’s a lot of food to cook for these men.” The voluptuous maid turned her back on Jillian and started walking away.
“Kaley!”
“What?” Kaley blinked innocently over her shoulder.
Jillian’s eyes narrowed. “Innocent doesn’t suit you, Kaley.”
“Peevish doesn’t suit you, Jillian.”
Jillian flushed. “I’m sorry. So?” she encouraged.
Kaley shook her head, chuckling softly. “I’m sure you don’t care, but Grimm’s gone to the loch. Looked to me like he planned to do some washing.”
The moment Kaley was gone, Jillian glanced around to make certain no one was watching, then doffed her slippers and raced for the loch.
Jillian ducked behind the rock and watched him.
Grimm was crouched at the edge of the loch, scrubbing his shirt with two smooth rocks. With a castle full of servants and maids to do the washing, the mending, his every bidding—even rush to his bed if he so much as crooked a seductive finger—Grimm Roderick walked to the loch, selected stones, and washed his own shirt. What pride. What independence. What … isolation.
She wanted to wash the worn linen for him. No, she wanted to wash the muscled chest the soft linen caressed. She wanted to trace her hands over the ridges of muscle that laced his abdomen and follow that silky dark trail of hair where it dipped beneath his kilt. She wanted to be welcomed into his solitary confinement and release the man she was convinced had deliberately walled himself behind a façade of chill indifference.