Page 9 of A Heart Worth Loving

“Ye are up early, lass.” She set the muffin pan on top of the oven.

“I wasted too much time at that blasted party yesterday,” Kyla replied. “I must catch up on the chores.”

Mattie clucked under her breath. “You know your mother doesnae like you talking like a sailor.”

Kyla dropped a kiss on the woman’s withered cheek. “Mother doesn’t like a lot of things,” she said with a droll smile. “May I have half a dozen of those muffins?”

Mattie looked at her in surprise. “That’s a mighty big appetite you have there.”

Kyla shrugged. “I will be out all morning checking the livestock. Holly needs to be milked, and Ella, too. She’s giving wonderful milk after giving birth. Her kids are growing like weeds.”

“Then, take what you will, lass,” Mattie said with a nod. “I can make more.”

Kyla snatched a basket from the table and filled it with seven fresh muffins before she kissed Mattie farewell and hurried through the back door. The muffins were the perfect excuse. If any of Blackstone’s Beasts found her snooping around, she could easily present them with the basket along with a welcome-to-the-neighborhood speech.

Behind the thinning clouds, shades of gold filled the sky as Kyla made her way down the woodland path, scanning the ground as she walked. If she were lucky enough to find the keys along the way, she wouldn’t have to enter the abbey. Luck didn’t favor her—not good luck, at any rate. Near the edge of the woods, men’s voices caused her to freeze and listen. She couldn’t distinguish their words. Kyla crept to the edge of the trees, hid behind an ancient pine, and peered into the pastureland behind the abbey. Two men were cutting wood. Two others—one Ewan Fraser— stood several feet from the workers, talking. Did the drunken scoundrel have any memory of kissing her last night? She mentally snorted. Most likely not.

Kyla scanned the abbey. She’d always liked the old abbey. The place had so much potential. How much land had the men purchased with the abbey? Might they farm? The pasture would make excellent grazing land. Old Mister Miller’s goats often broke free of his land and grazed in this very pasture. Oddly, she hoped the men would make the abbey a success.

Kyla crept through the trees, through the gate, and around to the courtyard, which, thankfully, was empty. She hurried from the trees to the lichen-covered stones and peer into the refectory window. Empty, as well. The murmur of male voices filtered to her from the distance.

She began to pry open the window. Why couldn’t her father settle down and live a straight and narrow life? They lived quite comfortably. He could easily invest their money and they would continue to live well. She wouldn’t have to sneak into neighbors’ homes.

Kyla got the window open, set the basket of muffins on the floor inside the window, then lifted her skirt and climbed over the sill. She eased onto the floor, shook out her skirts, then picked up the basket of muffins and crossed to the door where she’d encountered Ewan Fraser last night. She set the basket on the old wood table against the wall to the right of the door and scanned the floor for the keys. She traced her steps to the door, looked behind the supplies ten feet to the left of the door—despite the near impossibility the keys could have slid so far without her hearing, but to no avail.

Kyla turned in a circle. She had to find the keys. Where could they have fallen? Her gaze caught on the table. She hurried over, knelt, and bent so she could see under the shelf built into the table.

“So, you are real, after all.”

Kyla cried out and pushed to her knees, but toppled onto her backside, eye level with bare, muscled calves. She swallowed and lifted her gaze up the plaid to a belt wrapped tightly around a tapered waist, then arms crossed over a broad chest to Ewan Fraser’s face.

Chapter Four

Ewan decided to pass through the refectory and turned from the walkway. He needed to check on Logan and the ewe that was birthing for the first time. Logan was good with animals, but if the ewe died, they couldn’t afford to replace her. Ewan broke from the hallway into the refectory and slowed at sight of the shapely female arse pointed in his direction. The woman knelt on hands and knees, peering under a table, no doubt, looking for the keys she’d dropped last night.

He stopped two feet from her, crossed his arms over his chest, and said, “So you are real, after all.”

She shot upright and fell onto her pretty arse. He waited as her gaze slowly lifted to his face.

Her cheeks pinked. “I-I am looking for my lost dog,” she whispered.

“Under the table?”

“I thought I heard him bark.”

Her breasts lifted and fell in agitation.

Ewan forced his gaze to remain on her face. “What manner of dog is he?”

She frowned. “A…sheep dog.”

A sheepdog? Didn’t ladies usually prefer the smaller kind of beasts to fuss over?

She scrambled onto her knees, then pushed to her feet. Her skirt tangled in her feet and she stumbled. Ewan shot out a hand to catch her, but she slapped it aside and recovered balance herself. Her wide eyes flew to his face.

“I-oh, I didn’t mean— If you see my dog, please let me know.” She backed away from him. “I live just down the road.”

He nodded. “I recall.”