don’t you wait here? Have lunch with us."
Relief almost made her knees give. She opened her mouth to accept the invitation when she remembered her looks. On top of all the mud and pig-smell, she now had blood and sheep parts on her.
She sighed. "Thank you, but I’d best get home and clean myself up."
Kieran flashed a grin. "I can’t deny you need it. But so do I. Don’t worry. This is a farm. Everyone smells and looks earthy occasionally. There’s still time before lunch. You can shower here and I’ll find you some clothes to wear."
"In my size?" She had an image she would wear his clothes, a notion she found strangely appealing.
"Absolutely. We’re shifters. We have emergency clothes everywhere."
They walked the short distance to the manor, a typical Queen Anne red-brick with white trimmings around windows and in corners. From her childhood explorations, she knew there was a formal Baroque courtyard on the other side, flanked by the two wings of the manor, but they approached it from the English garden at the back. It was still bare after the winter, but she could imagine it would be beautiful when in full bloom. At the other end, the garden rose in a couple of wide terraced banks to the house where doors led inside. They didn’t choose any of them and rounded the building to a small side door instead.
An antechamber with boot racks holding muddy rubber and hiking boots, and hangers filled with old outdoors clothes. "You’d better leave your boots and jacket here." Her once white T-shirt and muddy socks weren’t much of an improvement, but they would have to do until she got herself cleaned up.
A hallway opened from the antechamber, leading to a kitchen by the sounds and smells of it. On the left, narrow and plain servants’ stairs led up. They took those to the second floor and an empty bedroom there.
"This is one of the guest rooms. There are towels in the bathroom. I’ll have someone bring you clean clothes."
He left. She rushed in the bathroom—clearly a modern addition—and peeled off her clothes. A hot shower had never felt better.
***
A pair of grey jogging bottoms and a grey t-shirt waited on the bed when Gemma emerged from the shower, along with new knickers still in their package, and a pair of clean socks, but no bra. Gemma wasn’t comfortable with going without support, but her bra smelled as bad as the rest of her clothing and she couldn’t put it back on. She would have to trust that the snug t-shirt would rein in her breasts.
Dressed, she tried to do something with her hair. She hadn’t found a dryer, and towelling had made it curl most annoyingly. Not even the weight of being long and damp made it straighten. Her hair elastic smelled of pig, however, so she had to leave her hair down. It would get worse when it dried, but it couldn’t be helped.
Kieran’s unique scent reached through the door a moment before he knocked on it. She opened the door and he made as if to speak, but nothing came out. He stood there, a surprised look on his face.
Then he smiled. "I had no idea what you would look like." Gemma rolled her eyes. She hadn’t been that badly covered with mud. "Come. I’ll take you to eat. Leave the clothes here and our housekeeper will take care of them."
A row of windows on one side made the long hallway bright, illuminating the old paintings hung between bedroom doors on the other. Kieran led her down it to the wide staircase with gleaming mahogany banisters that connected the two wings of the manor. They descended to the ground floor and made their way to the back of the house to a comfortable, bright breakfast room done in yellow. A long oak table for twenty people took up most of the room. A side table by one long wall was filled with platters of food. Gemma’s stomach growled when the delicious scents hit her nose.
The wall opposite had tall windows and a door that opened to the garden. The weather was fine and five people were having their lunch at a smaller