To Beguile a Beast (Legend of the Four Soldiers #3)(44)

Except she hadn’t seemed particularly appalled or distressed as she’d opened her sweet mouth to his tongue and pressed her body against him. The memory had his cock rearing eagerly and nearly made him drop his fishing pole in the water. He caught Sophia’s suspicious gaze at that moment. God only knew what she’d say if he lost his pole. Something cutting, no doubt.

He cleared his throat. “Mrs. McCleod packed some bread and such for us, I believe.”

That got Jamie’s immediate attention. He came scampering over with the puppy, and Mrs. Halifax set aside her fishing pole only too eagerly to go digging in the basket. “Lovely! There’s a ham and some bread and fruit. Oh, and a meat pie and some small cakes.” She looked up at him. “What would you like?”

“Some of everything,” Alistair called back. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was smiling at her son and chatting as she put together plates of food, and every once and a while, she’d dart a quick little glance at him when she thought he couldn’t see.

What was it about her? She was beautiful, yes, but that if anything would normally be a deterrent for him. Beautiful women merely made him more conscious of his own repulsiveness. She was different somehow. Not only had she seemed to have recovered from her shock at his appearance, but she also made him forget what he looked like. With her, he was simply a man flirting dangerously with a woman.

The feeling was intoxicating.

Abigail made a frustrated sound, and he moved to where she was trying to untangle her line. “Here, let me help you.”

“Thank you,” the girl said.

He glanced down at her solemn face. “You can go get some food if you wish.”

But she shook her head. “I like this. I like fishing.”

“You seem to have an aptitude for it.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Aptitude?”

He smiled. “You’re good at it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She gripped her pole fiercely. “I’ve never been good at anything.”

It was his turn to eye her. Perhaps he should offer some platitude, wave away her self-doubt, but he couldn’t find it in him to make light of her distress.

She glanced over her shoulder at her mother. “I disappoint Mama. I’m not… not as right as other girls.”

Alistair frowned. Abigail was unusually solemn for a little girl, but he knew that Mrs. Halifax loved her daughter. “I think that you’re right enough.”

Abigail’s brows knit and he knew he hadn’t said quite the right thing. He opened his mouth to try again when he was called by the picnickers.

“Here’s your food, Sir Alistair,” Jamie said.

Mrs. Halifax held out a plate, carefully avoiding his gaze. Alistair nearly groaned. Her attempt at discretion drew more attention than outright flirtation would. He glanced over her head as he walked to where she sat and met Sophia’s gaze beneath raised eyebrows.

Alistair accepted the plate and sent a stern look at Sophia as he murmured to Mrs. Halifax, “Thank you. I did not mean for you to give up your fishing to serve the rest of us.”

“Oh, it isn’t any bother. I don’t believe I’m particularly clever at the pastime, anyway.”

“Ah, but practice makes perfect,” he drawled.

Her face jerked up at that, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

He felt his mouth quirk. If only they weren’t so public, they—

“Oh! My line!” Abigail shrieked.

Alistair turned and saw her pole bent nearly at a right angle, her line taut and disappearing under the water. “Hold it, Abigail!”

“What should I do?” Her eyes were as big as saucers, her face gone white.

“Just hold it steady, don’t pull.”

He was by her side now. Abigail had both feet braced on the riverbank and was arching backward using all her slim strength to keep the pole in her hands.

“Steady,” he murmured. The line was jerking through the water in circles. “He’s wearing himself out, that fish of yours. You’re bigger, stronger, and smarter, too, than the fish. All you have to do is wait him out.”

“Shouldn’t you help her?” Mrs. Halifax asked.

“She hooked the fish,” Sophia said stoutly. “She can land it, too, never you fear.”

“Aye, she can,” Alistair said quietly. “She’s a brave lass.”

Abigail’s face was set in determined concentration. The line was moving more slowly now.

“Don’t let go your hold,” Alistair said. “Sometimes one fish is a wee bit smarter than the rest of his family and pretends to be tired, only to jerk the pole from your grasp.”

“I won’t let go,” the little girl declared.

Soon the movement slowed to nearly a stop. Alistair reached out and caught the line, swiftly lifting a sparkling fish from the water.

“Oh!” Abigail breathed.

Alistair held up the fish, flopping on the end of the line. It wasn’t the biggest fish he’d ever seen, nor was it the smallest. “A very fine trout indeed. Wouldn’t you agree, Sophia?”

Sophia solemnly inspected the catch. “The finest, I declare, that I’ve seen in quite some time.”

Abigail’s cheeks tinged a faint pink, and Alistair realized she was blushing. Pretending he hadn’t noticed, he caught the fish and, kneeling, showed her how to remove the hook from its mouth.