“And I wondered if ye wanted to help.”
God’s Wounds!He sounded like an idiot, did he not?
But the way her face lit up with that smile…
He might’ve sounded like an idiot, but he felt like a hero.
And that’s how he ended up showing her the falconry he’d built over the last years, here at the rear of his cottage. A wall separated the birds—and their sounds and smells—from the living space, but the hearth he fed in the winter ensured they’d be as warm as he and Wren.
He couldn’t help feeling proud as he showed her the mews he’d built himself from vague memories of his father’s falconry. And when she stepped up to his worktable and ooh’d over his leather designs, he tried not to let it go to his head.
But the more impressed she sounded, the bigger his chest swelled. These were just the gauntlets and anklets, as well as the hoods for the falcons, each sized perfectly as they grew…but if she was so fascinated, mayhap he’d done something correct.
“So ye strap the gauntlet on like this?” She was trying to do it one-handedly, a skill which took years to perfect.
“Aye,” he agreed with a chuckle, stepping up to help her. “This protects yer forearm from the talons, see?” The leather was too big, but he cinched it as tight as it would go. “Any leather, or a rag even, will work, but this is more convenient.”
She’d gone very still, her gaze on her arm where his fingers lingered. “And…ye carry yer falcon like this?” She sounded breathless.
“Geraldine is the eldest, and kens me the best. She’ll sit on my arm, but I can trust her to fly above too.” He pointed to the bewits and the bells they held to the birds’ ankles. “Even the birds I raise from hatching feel the tug of the wild, and with the bells I can find them when they decide to ignore my calls. No’ Geraldine.”
Nodding as if she understood everything he said, her gaze traveled up his chest and landed on his lips.
“And…ye control her with whistles?” she whispered.
He couldn’t help grinning. “Nay, I dinnae control Geraldine. I offer suggestions, and if she’s in the right mood, she’ll go along with them. She’s as stubborn as Wren. And as smart.”
“Wren is smart, aye. And ‘tis clear she prefers silence.” Her gaze rose to his. “But…I think she’ll learn silence isnae always best.”
His heart had begun to pound against his chest the moment those green eyes had found his. “Aye,” he rasped. “Ye taught her much today.”
Suddenly, she grinned. “Do ye think the same method could be used on Geraldine?”
How could he not smile in response? “Would ye like to find out? We can fetch Wren and some bread and cheese for luncheon, and ye can come hunting with us this afternoon. I’ll teach ye to run the hawks.”
Her smile of agreement made him want things he knew he shouldn’t.
But his cock wasn’t listening. And neither was his heart.
Both were falling hard for this green-eyed temptress.