her hand over his thigh, clasping his knee. “Good then, because I like you in your skirt.”
“’Tis a kilt, lass.”
She smiled. “I know it is; I’m just teasing you.”
Ben kicked his mount and called for her to follow. They rode into the surrounding forest, away from the sea on which the keep sat, until they came across an area where some trees had been felled. Ben dismounted and came over to help her.
He slid her down the front of him, letting her feel every ripple of hardened muscle. Maddening. “Now who’s teasing?”
Ben looked around. Kenzie did likewise and noted clansmen were busy tying the horses and going to collect tools such as saws and axes. He pressed her against the side of her horse and kissed her, took her lips desperately. Kenzie pushed against him, taking all that he gave, and wondered what had brought on his sudden urge.
Not that he had to have an excuse, for Kenzie would kiss him anytime and anywhere he pleased, but still… “What brought that on?” she asked, when he finally stepped back.
He ran a finger down her cheek, staring at her with an intensity that startled her. Kenzie reined in her somersaulting emotions. It would be so very easy to fall totally in love with this Highlander.
“I thought ye looked in need of a thorough kissing.” His brogue was thick and laden with desire.
“You can kiss me anytime you like.” And he could, especially if he continued to look at her as if she was the whole world. She cleared her throat. “So, what are we doing here? This looks like you have work for me to do.”
He gestured to the trees. “’Tis Beltane tomorrow and today we collect the wood for the fires.” He pulled her toward the trees. “Ye are going to help me fell a tree with this saw. Not a large one, so dinna be scared, but just a small one that I’m sure ye will be able to handle.”
Kenzie turned and watched the other clansmen at work. The cutting down of the larger trees looked hard, and even in the fresh morning air, sweat poured off their brows. Others worked axes into the fallen trees, cutting the limbs into smaller lengths and placing them onto waiting carts. “How many trees will you cut down for Beltane?”
“We gather the smaller limbs that fall off through the year, so we dinna normally cut down more than ten trees and we scatter the cutting so as not to leave one place in the forest bare of growth.”
Good idea. Kenzie took the saw and walked it over to the small tree that Ben stood beside. “So, we’re to cut this one down?”
“Looks as good as any other.” He lifted his side of the saw and, working in unison they started to cut down the tree. It didn’t take long for it to fall, since it was ridiculously small compared to some of the others, but at least Kenzie had contributed a little to Beltane.
Ben shouted out for some of the clansmen nearby to come and put the wood on the cart. Kenzie looked about the grove. It was a beautiful place, smelled of wooded undergrowth with a sprinkling of pine. Although she couldn’t spy any of those types of trees.
“What’s that sound?” she asked, turning her head toward what she thought might be running water.”
“The workers, lass,” Ben said, lifting some smaller branches and placing them on the cart. As they worked, the day became warmer, not hot by any means, but comfortable, considering they were in Scotland.
Kenzie helped where she could, but eventually she sat on an old, rotting log and watched as Ben worked with the men, getting what they needed for Beltane. In her time, people just lit bonfires and used the old ancient pagan tradition as a reason to get drunk and have fun with friends.
To see Beltane in this time would be something. From the earnestness of it all, medieval Scotland certainly took the night a lot more seriously than people did in her time.
One of the workers came back with wet hair and Kenzie stood. “Ben, that man looks like he’s had a swim. There is water nearby, isn’t there? I thought I could hear water running.”
He stopped what he was doing, running a hand through his hair and pushing it off his face. Her heart flip-flopped at the sight of him—rumpled, sweaty, marks of dirt across his face where he’d wiped at the dripping sweat.