Down the Rabbit Hole

“’Tis mating season. I’ll not have the herds thinned for the sake of a handful of gold.”


“We’ll take care not to harm the females or their young.” Ian eyed his stepbrother. “Surely the loss of one stag shouldn’t matter to you.” He looked around with a knowing smile. “As we all know, it takes but one rutting male to populate an entire forest of willing females.”

Around the table the men nodded and joined in the laughter. Even the women covered their mouths to hide their smiles.

Seeing Colin’s frown, Ian arched a brow before glancing at the others. “Or are you more concerned with one particular stag?”

Hamish shot him a puzzled look. “Are you suggesting the laird would protect the Beast?”

“Perhaps.” Ian looked directly at Colin. “Or perhaps you merely wish to save that trophy for yourself?”

Hamish looked astonished. “Have you ever actually dared to hunt the Beast, m’laird?”

“I have not.” Colin drained his tankard. “And I would ask that none of my guests dare to attempt such a dangerous thing.”

“Because you fear for our lives?” Ian persisted. “Or is it the Beast you worry after?”

Colin’s tone was brisk. “I have graciously provided you with enough fowl to satisfy your appetite for the hunt. I now command that you refrain from hunting the four-legged animals during this mating season, so that the forest will continue to feed our people for generations to come.”

“Ye’ve heard it. The laird . . . commands.” Ian’s tone was sharp with sarcasm. “And we all know the laird’s command must be obeyed without question. Without regard to the fact that this command will cost me one hundred gold coins.”

Hamish flushed, as did several others, who were aware of the sting of anger in the young man’s words, directed at their host.

“I’ll choose to overlook that for now, brother.” Colin pushed away from the table. “Let the hunt continue.”

As the men mounted their eager steeds, the women treated themselves to slices of rich brandied cake, dotted with currants and drizzled with honey, before facing their return by wagon to the lodge.

Colin turned to Beth. “If you are weary of the hunt, you may remain here with the ladies. They will soon be back in the comforting care of my servants.”

She gave a quick shake of her head. “I’d prefer to ride with you.”

He seemed pleased with her choice. “Very well.” He offered his arm and she placed a hand on his. “Jamie, lad, fetch the lady’s mount.”

“Aye, m’laird.” The boy raced off to separate Beth’s horse from the others tethered nearby.

When they were away from the others, Colin leaned close to whisper, “Perhaps, once the hunt is underway, you would permit me to taste your lips again, my lady.”

Caught by surprise, Beth knew he could see the heat that rushed to her cheeks. She tried to cover it by saying, “I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Perhaps not wise.” As Jamie drew near, leading her mount, Colin leaned closer, the warmth of his breath feathering the hair at her temple. “But speaking for myself, ’twould surely bring me a great deal of pleasure, my sweet Bethany. And I would do my best to pleasure you, as well.”

He lifted her to the sidesaddle, allowing his hands to linger at her waist before pulling himself onto the back of his stallion and leading the way toward the forest, with Beth and Jamie following behind.

And all the while, Beth’s poor heart kept up a steady rhythm that matched the pounding hoofbeats of the hunters’ horses as they raced into the thickets.

The mere touch of this man did the strangest things to her. She couldn’t recall another man who had ever had this effect on her body, her heart, her very soul.