Page 11 of Don't Give A Damn About My Plaid Reputation
Nicola was silent long enough that Robena peeked up, wondering if she’d finally been left alone. But her sister was just focused on her measuring and mixing.
After a long while, the healer said, “Kester’s leaving for the Highland Games, eh?”
“Laird MacBainhas made it verra clear his future includes a trip away from Oliphant land. Without me. His future doesnae involve me.”
“He. Is going. To the.Highland Games.”
Robena frowned and straightened. “Aye. He is.” She raised a brow. “Why. Are we. Talking.Like this?”
Without looking up, Nicola’s lips curled. “I’m trying. To make.A point.About the Highland Games.”
Raising her hands, Robena pushed herself to her feet. “For the fourth—fifth?—time: he’s going to the Highland Games!” She allowed her palms to slap down against her thighs for emphasis. “What does it matter?” Before her sister could answer, she shook her head. “I dinnae want to talk about it.”
Kester was going to the Highland Games, aye.To marry someone else.
She felt like a complete and utter fool.
Of course,he didn’t want to marry her.Of course,he would prefer to marry the woman who could assure peace for his clan.
He was kind and noble and worried about his people; she knew he’d do anything necessary to ensure his clan’s prosperity. Even marry his enemy’s daughter.
She’s likely tall and beautiful and kens how to embroider.
His betrothed didn’t play the pipes.
Robena could feel the tears pricking at the backs of her eyes and hated them. ‘Twas better to stay angry at him—at all men!—than be hurt at his inevitable choice.
But St. Kelsi’s vocal cords! The man could kiss!
She forced a scowl, forced down the memory of his touch, and stomped across the room to her sister’s worktable.
“Is there aught here which will make me forget I’ve been a fool?” She peered over the scales and cutting boards and mysterious and herbally looking bags. “Or mayhap make everyoneelseforget I’ve been a fool?”
Without looking up, Nicola said mildly, “If ye’re asking me to poison the entire keep during Wynda’s wedding celebration tonight…the answer’s nay.”
“But I liked how ye paused there afore answering.”
Nicola smirked. “I didnae. ‘Twas me inhaling.”
“Ye wereconsideringit,” Robena needled, leaning her weight on her forearms. “I like that.”
“I’m no’ poisoning people.”
Robena nodded to the flagon. “What’s that? It looks poisonous.”
“‘Tis, in too great a quantity. Anything’s poisonous in too great a quantity.”
“Water’s no’.”
Nicola finally met her eyes. “It is if ye’re drowning.” Her gaze sparkled with merriment.
“Hmm. How about air? Everyone needs air to live. Ye cannae have too much of it.”
“Can ye fly?”
Robena’s brows drew in. “Nay.”
“Well, then, if ye fall off a cliff, or the highest battlement while practicing yer piping…I imagine ye’d have just enough time on the way down to decide thereissuch a thing as too much air.”
