Amanda Forester by The Highland Bride's Choice

one of the beams I found lying about to form a brace. It should keep them out long enough for us to head out the back if it comes to it.”
    “But winna the smoke bring them here?”
    “Aye, most likely, but the brace is only part of the plan. I also found an old black skirt, mildewed and molded, but still functional for our purposes.”
    “And what use could that be?”
    “We’ve come down wi’ the pox!” Tavish grinned, clearly proud of his plan.
    “Is this a jest?”
    “Aye, on the English. I draped the gate wi’ black cloth. When the English arrive, we’ll tell them we have quarantined the castle because of the pox. Or maybe we’ll say the Great Plague.”
    “Ah, I see.” Elyne returned his smile. “They shall run for the hills away from us.”
    “Aye, that’s the plan.”
    “’Tis a goodly plan.”
    “Truly? I am pleased it meets yer approval.” His eyes shone bright and his smile softened. A moment later he turned away. “Must get back to work. Much to do. Left some bread on the table if ye feel so inclined.”
    Tavish turned and disappeared back into the blacksmith shop where soon a flurry of banging could be heard across the courtyard. Elyne walked slowly back to the tower room. On the bench she noted the bread, ripped off a small piece, and washed it down with ale. They must conserve their food since they did not know how long they would be staying at the castle.
    Tavish had a good plan for keeping the English out, but it did not put food on the table. That would be her job.
    Back outside, Elyne could hear banging and grunting. She was not sure if Tavish was working or fighting with the piece of iron. Having seven brothers, she wisely decided to give him space.
    She decided instead to explore the castle grounds and walked in the opposite direction, around the back side of the castle. There she found her object, the remnants of a castle garden. It was overgrown and wild, but she hacked through some of the more virulent bushes with her knife to search for food. It took some time, pulling up weeds and cutting branches, but in the end her efforts were rewarded with blackberries, elderberries, hazelnuts, and wild kale. She put these aside and climbed a large cherry tree in full bloom, trying to find any fruit that had ripened early.
    When she was done, she gathered all the food in her skirts and went to find Tavish to show him the fruit of her labors. The banging had stopped, and when she passed the blacksmith shop, he was not there.
    She spied a piece of red cloth at the end of the line of outbuildings, but when she turned the corner, all she found was the large plaid laid out across a hitching post. It was Tavish’s plaid. His clothes… on the post. She heard another splash and stepped cautiously to the end of the building. The sound was coming from around the corner, behind the building.
    Glancing back, Tavish’s plaid was still on the post. Last time she saw him, it had been the only clothing he was wearing. Given the amount of soot that covered him, she guessed he must be giving himself a good wash. Good thing to do, washing. She approved. She edged closer.
    Wait, what was she doing? He had found an out-of-the-way place to wash and should be left alone to do it in peace. She could not possibly invade his privacy. She edged closer. No, she was going to turn around. Her foot took another step closer. Now—now she was going to turn around. Her other foot, completely of its own accord, took one more step, and she peeked around the corner.
    She was treated to the wondrous sight of Tavish Grant, in all his naked glory, scrubbing off the dirt with water from a bucket. Fortunately for her, his back was toward her, allowing her the ability to gawk openly. Water flowed in rivulets down his muscular back to his trim waist and below. Oh yes, below. She marveled at his beautiful, tight… “Oh my stars,” she whispered. And she saw them, stars.
    He took the bucket and dumped it over his head—water