His Doxy (The Outrageous Oliphants #4)

Chapter 1

“It’s a tiger? A lion?”

Athena Oliphant hummed thoughtfully and continued her invisible sketch on the naked back draped across her lap.

“Nay,” she murmured, one finger drawing the curve of the feline’s back. “But close.”

Her wee son propped his chin in his hands and frowned as he concentrated on her touch, trying to feel the shape of the image. “There are whiskers, aye?”

“Aye, indeed.” The gentle burble of the river, wide and calm here and excellent for swimming, seemed to echo throughout the perfect summer afternoon. “What else has whiskers?” she asked as she sketched the animal’s fluffy tail.

“A dog has whiskers!”

Callan was almost five years old, and visiting this part of the river had become a part of their daily routine this summer.

She would pack a picnic lunch, and they’d swim and eat until he was exhausted, then he’d nap in the shade of a magnificent oak while she read.

But first she had to calm him to a restful state, so she’d invented this game where she drew pictures on his back and he tried to guess what they were.

“A dog does indeed have whiskers, my love.” She drew claws beside where she thought she’d drawn the creature’s feet a few minutes ago. “But ye were closer with yer guesses of lion and tiger.”

“Oh! A panther!” Callan guessed in excitement, thrusting his upper body up by straightening his elbows. “It’s a panther!”

This wasn’t calming him for a nap, was it?

Smiling gently, Athena wiped her palm across the lad’s back, gently pushing him back down. “It is no’ a panther.”

“A jackal?”

Lightly, she pinched her son’s bare arse, which wasn’t as white as it had been at the start of the summer.

Perhaps she should find him a bathing costume.

But it’s not as though anyone came to this remote bend in the river; it was the far end of Oliphant land, where it butted up again the Dumpkins Estate.

Lady Dumpkins had been hosting a house party all summer—and with three of Athena’s siblings finding love, it was no wonder the Countess crowed at the party’s success—but Athena had done her best to avoid the festivities, and knew that none of the activities ever drew people to this area of the river.

“A jackal isnae a feline, son.”

“What’s a feline?”

Hmm. Perhaps she ought to have a word with her son’s nurse. The lad knew his letters, but was more content to have someone read to him than practice his own vocabulary.

“A feline is a cat.” To punctuate this lesson, she added a sketch of what she imagined might’ve been a dead mouse by the feline’s front paws. “Like the barn cats back home.”

When he still didn’t pick up on the hints, Athena began to stroke her palm across her son’s back, as if she were stroking the cat’s fur.

“Ye’re certain it’s no’ a panther?”

She couldn’t hide her grin. “Nay, it is no’ a panther.” The lad wasn’t tired at all, was he? “But he is gray and white—”

“Like the barn cats back home?”

Ah, he was beginning to understand.

“Aye, just like the wee beasts,” she murmured softly.

“Panthers are gray and white—”

“Nay, they are no’. It is no’ a panther, Callan. It is a feline who has just caught a mouse.”

He pushed himself up on his arms once more. “Like the barn cats?”

“Aye,” she huffed in exasperation. “Like the barn cats! He is gray and white like the barn cats, and he has whiskers like the barn cats.”

“But how can ye be certain it’s no’ a panther?”

Athena’s frustrated laughter burst out of her at the lad’s dogged line of reasoning just as a new voice said quietly, “Is it a barn cat?”

Her son jumped up off her lap as Athena twisted to find the newcomer: a lad of about ten years in a bathing costume, standing quietly over her shoulder. He offered her a small grin and a shrug, as though he knew he’d startled her.

“Aye.” She managed to find her voice. “It was a barn cat.”

Callan made an irritated sound and stamped his foot. “A barn cat? That was too simple, Mama!”

Hiding her grin, Athena busied herself picking up the remains of their lunch. “Ye didnae guess it. Our new friend had to.”

“I could’ve guessed it if ye’d given me more hints!”

Wondering what further hints she could’ve possibly given him, Athena turned her attention to the newcomer. “And ye must be a smart lad to guess the drawing despite no’ being able to feel it.”

The lad shrugged again, his attention on Callan. “Sometimes it’s easier to see the whole picture from afar.”

It was a surprisingly complex statement from one so young, and Athena was about to ask him about it when she heard yet another new voice.

“Matthew! Matthew, you win, lad! Where are you?”

The boy—Matthew?—flushed and whirled around, before calling out, “I’m here, Father. Already at our swimming spot!”

Our swimming spot?

Athena didn’t have time to wonder about the claim before footsteps along the river path alerted her to the lad’s father’s arrival. And then she couldn’t say a blessed thing, because her throat—and her lungs, and likely, her heart—seemed to freeze when the man stepped into the light.

He was beautiful. The man’s pale hair glittered gold in the sunshine, and his tall, lean body was encased in a form-fitting bathing costume.

She’d always had a soft spot for well-built men, and this one was no exception.

From here, she could see the corded muscles in his forearms as he shifted the towels he carried to the other arm.

But his expression turned to confusion as his blue eyes swept over her and Callan, and she watched as his eyes turned cool.

“Good afternoon,” he said stiffly.

Instead of climbing to her feet, as though she and her son had done something wrong, Athena crossed her feet at the ankles and rested her weight on her palms. She saw the man’s gaze travel down the length of her legs encased in dark wool, which was so popular for ladies to swim in these days, before lingering on her bare feet.

She wriggled her toes and was rewarded when he cleared his throat and glanced away.

“Have ye come to swim then?” she asked cheekily. “Do join us.”

Although she’d been hoping Callan would nap, he seemed even more energized by the newcomers’ presence.

Her son rushed up to the new lad, Matthew. “My name’s Callan. I’m almost five, and I can swim! My granda says I swim like a fish, but I cannae breathe underwater.”

Matthew nodded solemnly and offered his hand, as if unconcerned by Callan’s nakedness. “I’m Matthew, and I’m ten. My father says I’m a good swimmer, although the water here isn’t over my head anymore.”

Callan shook the lad’s hand enthusiastically. “Do ye come here often? Mama has brought me almost every morning this summer. Nurse says it’s to keep me out of trouble, but I think it’s because she loves me. Mama, not Nurse.”

“You don’t love your nurse?” Matthew was still allowing his hand to be shaken.

“She’s alright, but she’s no’ Mama.”

“I don’t have a Mama,” the older lad said solemnly. “She died when I was a baby.”

So the golden-haired god glaring at them from the path was a widower? Interesting.

“I don’t have a da,” Callan announced cheekily, “but Mama loves me enough for two, she says. Also, I have a million uncles and a granda and a barn cat. Do ye like it here? I like it here!”

Athena smiled as she watched Matthew—such a dear, serious boy—extricate himself from Callan’s enthusiastic handshake.

“My father and I come here once a week in the afternoon to swim.” He glanced over his shoulder at the gorgeous man who was slowly stalking toward the pair, and lowered his voice.

“I don’t get to spend much time with him otherwise. He’s very busy.”

Her heart clenched for the lad. Judging from the man’s imperious gaze, he was some sort of local lord, likely too busy for much time with his son. But the fact he had made this time, and the fact they’d been racing here, meant he obviously loved the lad.

She was wondering if she should gather their things—and find some clothes for Callan—and leave early in order to give the newcomers more time, when her son asked, “Is this yer favorite spot then?”

Matthew nodded. “It’s the best for swimming. Father said our hostess told him about it, and she’s right. Aunt Carlotta—that’s my father’s younger sister—really, really wants to come try it out, but he says it’s just for us. I’ve never had a friend to swim with before.”

Athena’s good-natured son smiled. “Now ye do! I’ll show ye how long I can hold my breath, as long as ye dinnae let me drown. That’s what Mama says.” He whirled about with pleading eyes. “Is that fine, Mama?”

“I won’t let him drown, ma’am,” Matthew piped up.

Well, how could she deny two such adorable smiles? She couldn’t drag Callan away now, not by hook nor crook, with Matthew looking so excited to have a playmate. “Have fun, the pair of ye.”

The lads gave nearly identical whoops and lunged for the water. Matthew splashed right in, and Callan flopped on his belly, coming up with a shriek of, “It’s cold!”

“That’s because you’re naked, lad,” the man murmured over her shoulder.

Knowing Callan couldn’t hear Matthew’s father’s chastisement, Athena assumed it was meant for her to hear only.

But since she’d never been one to follow Society’s dictates, she simply chuckled in response.

Since she was still stretched out on the blanket, she tilted her head back and smiled at him invitingly.

“Will ye join me then, to watch our lads cavort?” As the man lowered himself to sit stiffly beside her on the blanket, her smile faded to a rueful one.

“I am sorry Callan and I have stolen yer favorite spot. He is right in that I try to bring him here in the mornings. My father used to bring my brothers and me here when we were young, and I have fond memories of picnics here.”