Page 79 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

“It bears a remarkable resemblance tae suspicion.”

Roy lifted the bucket onto the stones. “Suspicion has kept me alive.”

“It has also made ye intolerably solemn.”

He bent for the second bucket. Cold water struck the side of his face.

Roy stopped.

A stream ran from his temple, beneath his collar and down the back of his neck. Donaldina stood with one hand cupped above the first bucket. Her expression possessed an innocence so carefully arranged that no sensible judge could have believed it.

Roy straightened slowly. “Did ye just throw water at me?”

“A drop escaped.”

“A drop.”

“The bucket is very full.”

He looked at the distance between the bucket and his face. Her mouth trembled. Roy dipped his hand into the water and flicked it toward her. She gasped as droplets struck her cheek.

“That,” she declared, “was deliberate.”

“A drop escaped.”

Her eyes narrowed. Then both hands entered the bucket. Roy had enough time to recognize the threat, but not enough to avoid it. Water struck his chest in a cold sheet.

Donaldina laughed. The sound scattered through the stable yard, bright and unrestrained. Roy stared down at his soaked tunic. He should have reminded her that they were preparing for a journey. He should have behaved with the dignity expected of a Highland laird.

Instead, he seized the bucket.

Donaldina shrieked and leaped backward as he sent water over her skirts. She retaliated at once, scooping from the trough and striking him across the shoulder. Roy advanced. Donaldina retreated around the well, laughing so hard that half her attacks landed upon the ground.

Within moments, dignity had been entirely abandoned. Water darkened Roy’s hair and ran into his eyes. Donaldina’s braid clung to her back, and the hem of her gown dripped upon the stones. She tried to hide behind the well, only to emerge with another handful ready.

Roy caught her wrist before she could throw it. She twisted free and ran toward the stable doors. He followed.

Donaldina had several advantages in argument, but length of stride was not among them. Roy caught her within three paces, closing one arm around her waist and drawing her back against him.

Her laughter broke into a breathless cry. “Release me!”

“So ye may attack again?”

“I have nae water.”

“Ye are standing beside a trough.”

She struggled once, though without any true effort to escape. Roy turned her within his hold. The laughter left them both. Donaldina’s hands rested against his chest. Water shone upon her lashes and traced a slow path from her temple to her jaw. Her cheeks were flushed from cold and exertion. A wet strand of hair had loosened across her mouth.

Roy lifted one hand before caution could stop him and brushed it aside. Donaldina became very still. His arm remained around her waist. Beneath his palm, he felt the swift rise and fall of her breathing. Their soaked clothes offered little protection from the warmth of her body.

She looked at his mouth. Every sensible thought Roy possessed deserted him. He bent his head.

Donaldina’s fingers tightened upon his tunic, drawing him nearer or perhaps merely failing to push him away. He no longer cared which.

But at that exact moment, footsteps and voices approached from within the stable.

“Bring the gray geldings intae the yard!”