The Imposter by Jenna Stone

the kitchen maids for a chore to
do, needing a mundane task to keep me occupied.  I also hoped for an
opportunity to scour the castle grounds for escape routes.
    “I think that
could be arranged.  I’ve quite a debt owed tae ye for my rudeness.” Devon said,
startling me.
     I jumped at the
sound of unexpected company and Devon smiled charmingly as I peered over my
shoulder.
     “That’s the least
I could do for my good mother,” he balked as I gave him my best glare, still
not finding the same humor in the situation as he did.  Devon moved the basket
in which lay my harvest and settled to the ground next to me in the garden.  He
leaned back against the stone wall surrounding the garden, looking relaxed and
at ease. 
    I continued my
work of loosening a garlic bulb from the grips of the Earth.  Suddenly, he
reached for my hand.  I was startled by his unexpected touch and jumped
visibly, raising my eyes to meet his.
    Seeing my reaction
to his touch, he jerked back his hand.  “I’ve come tae apologize, Kate. I was
quite well into my cups last night and I vaguely remember being a less than
accommodating patient,” his green eyes watched my hands intensely as he waited
for my response.
    “Your forgiven,
you lout,” I said trying to minimize my reaction to him.  I was surprised  that
his brief touch could spark such a shocking reaction. “Remember, that I was the
one with the needle in hand,” I bantered, wondering exactly how much he
remembered from last night.
    “Aye, it’s hard
for me not to remember that.  Every time I move I feel yer stitchery.” He made
a mock grimace that possibly held a hint of sincerity. 
    I was quite sure
that the wound pained him more that he would let on.
    “Let’s have a look
at it,” I said, brushing my hands on my full skirt.  “I don’t want to touch you
with dirty hands, but at least pull your shirt up so that I can have a look at
it.” 
    “Slow down lass,
we’ve but just met and yer demanding that I undress?  How can a lad protect his
modesty these days?” Devon chided but obliged, un-tucking the clean linen shirt
from his kilt and rucking it up to expose my handiwork, as well as the physique
that I had admired last night.  There was not an ounce of fat on the man.  His
abdominal muscles were well sculpted, and they tapered into a deep V that
delved beneath his woolen kilt. 
    I noticed that he
had shaved since our last encounter in the hall and his hair was neatly pulled
back into a thick tail secured by a leather throng at the base of his neck.  I
leaned closer to inspect my handiwork, quite impressed with how my stitches
were holding up.  It was impossible not to notice his taught, muscled chest and
tanned skin.  My nose tinged as it caught his earthy, masculine smell.  Electricity
shot through my nerves as I felt Devon’s eyes watching me.  I caught myself and
consciously drew away from him, collecting myself. 
    Something about
this man that I barely knew struck me.  My heart skipped a beat as I examined
his chest, and then it began to hammer in double time. 
    Oh my .  Is
he interested in me?
    Intrigue blazed in
Devon’s eyes as he looked down at me and a boyish smile played across his face
as my fingers grazed over the warm skin of his chest.
    He’s flirting
with me!
    “It looks great. 
Not bad for my first needlepoint project,” I mustered, suppressing the
attraction that I felt and drawing myself away from Devon McClain.   I was
pleasantly surprised to find that the infection had receded and the skin had a
pink healthy pallor about the wound.  “And being that you were quite rude, I
will take you up on the offer of a hot bath!”
    “I wouldna offer
if I could na deliver,” he smiled. “I’ll speak with the maids and have a tub
taken up to yer chamber this afternoon,” he said, pulling down his shirt and
tucking it into his crimson plaid kilt.
    “Thanks,” I
replied, looking down at the dirt, unsure of how to continue.  I