The Ghost by Greyson, Maeve (best motivational books to read .txt) 📕

Her mouth fell open. Both Magnus and Keigan stood in the rain, bare as the day they were born, their pale skin glistening in the half-light of the gloomy day. They were at the large wooden barrel she used to catch rainwater. Magnus stood behind it. Thankfully, the height of the cask hit at his waist, shielding her eyes from the parts of him a proper lady wouldn’t wish to see. Well, a proper lady wouldn’t wish to see such things. But she hadn’t been a proper lady in a long while.

She shook herself free of her wicked curiosity with a silent scolding. This was not the time to be ogling Magnus’s man parts. The immediate problem was that her mud-covered child stood inside her barrel of precious rainwater that kept her or whoever else had to fetch water from having to walk all the way to the stream. The lad disappeared down into the keg, then reappeared free of his coating of filth.

“And just what in Heaven’s name do the two of ye think ye are doing?”

“Ye said ye didna wish mud inside,” Magnus reminded with a sly wink. He lifted Keigan out of the barrel and stood him on a patch of grass. “There’s nary a speck of filthiness on him now.” With a wave toward the door, he sent the boy running. “Stay to the grass so ye dinna get yer feet muddy again.”

Skittering the short distance to the door, Keigan hopped inside and ran to the fire. Teeth chattering, he inched as close to it as he could. “The fire feels good.”

Brenna grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around him. “Ye know ye’ll have to fetch water from the stream now that ye’ve muddied the water barrel?”

“It was my idea,” Magnus said. “Dinna blame the lad.”

Without thinking, she turned to berate him, then whirled back around and faced the fire, her face burning. “There is a blanket waiting for ye. There on the cot. Do me the courtesy of covering yerself, aye?”

The man had filled the doorway, his body sculpted and glistening, wondrous and muscular as a mythical god of old. He had stood there unashamed. Nay, not unashamed, but proud of his fine naked form.

She caught Evander grinning and threatened a step toward him. “I may not be yer mother, but I’ll still box yer ears for ye, ye ken?”

“Aye, mistress.” His mouth clamped into a flat line, and he focused his attention on the fire.

“Have ye covered yerself?” she asked as she wrapped her hand in her apron and lifted the bubbling pot of broth from the coals.

“Aye, lass. I promise ’tis safe for ye to turn now.”

The mirth in his tone made her consider flinging the soup at him. But, nay, she wasn’t that foolish. He wasn’t worth it, and it would be a waste of a good broth. Instead, she shoved around him, not sparing him a glance. “Move to the fire. I’ll bring yer cup to ye.”

“As ye wish, mistress.” Before moving deeper into the room, he pulled the door closed. “Wind’s picking up and changing again. Looks to be another stormy afternoon.”

God help me. She poured a bit of broth into each of the cups, dividing the meager leavings from their midday meal between the three. It was a wonder there had been anything left at all. Two grown males impossible to fill, and Keigan doing his best to become a third. “Take this, and I’ll fetch each of ye a crust or two for sopping, aye?” She served Keigan and Evander first. Magnus would be last as punishment for his brazen behavior.

“Thank ye, lass.” He grinned, accepting the cup and bread as though she had handed him a feast. “As penance for my teasing, I’ll wash our cups after we’ve finished and the dishes after supper, aye?”

“I would rather ye clean out the rain barrel, so the water willna be fouled.”

“Aye, it needs dumping. I kinda peed in it,” Keigan confessed, his words muffled by a mouthful of bread.

“Son!” Magnus stared at the boy as though he couldn’t believe what he had just said.

“I couldna help it.” The lad sipped his broth, smacked his lips, then dipped the last of his crust into the cup. “The water just made the pee come out afore I could stop it.”

With a heavy sigh and shake of his head, Magnus rose, downed his broth, and went to the door. He arched a brow at Brenna. “Mistress? Yer back, please? I shall hang my blanket on the hook whilst I tend to the barrel.”

She turned away from him, then stole a glance over her shoulder just in time to catch sight of his bare arse as he stepped out the doorway. He was indeed a finely made man. Once more facing the fire, she closed her eyes and rubbed her throbbing temples. But finely made or no’, she prayed Keigan would soon send his father on his way. Opening her eyes to the two lads with their heads together, smiling and whispering, she feared her prayers would go unanswered. How could she compete with the life Magnus offered the boy?

“Yer rain barrel is clean and uprighted, m’lady,” Magnus announced a few moments later.

“I have asked ye not to call me that,” she snapped. Without looking at him, she retreated to her pallet and took up her mending. “Do me the courtesy of remembering, aye?” A glance up from her stitching told her every male in the room watched her as though they feared she had gone mad. “Forgive me,” she said in a quieter tone. “This endless rain is wearing.”

“Evander, once ye and Keigan finish yer broth, why dinna ye show him another game?” Magnus scooped up his stool and moved it to her side of the room.

“Which game?” Evander drained his cup and shoved the last of his bread in his mouth.

“I dinna care,” Magnus said in a warning