Page 15 of Don't Give A Damn About My Plaid Reputation
For his part, Kester’s sour stomach had naught to do with the ale he’d consumed at the wedding celebration they’d attended last night, and everything to do with the woman he hadn’t seen.
He hadn’t participated in the dancing or carousing, but spent the evening with his back to the wall, sipping at his ale, and watching for Robena. Oh, she’d attended the celebration, but hadn’t danced, and had left before ‘twas over.
She’d looked…disconcertedlyhappy.
Och, hewantedher to be happy! He wasn’t disappointed by her easy smile, or the way she danced with her new brother-in-law, and held her new niece aloft. Nay, he wasgladto see she’d moved on from the disaster in the secret passage, where he’d kissed her and then told her he couldn’t marry her.
But did she have to do it soquickly?
Kester’s chest felt hollow, as if he was missing something important. As if he’d left it back at Oliphant Castle….
And ‘twas a little galling to realizeshe’dgotten over him so quickly.
So, aye, this was guilt and sorrow and pain all mixed together in his stomach to make him feel miserable this morning.
Mayhap he needed to eat.
“Laird, ye’re certain we shouldnae have waited?” Giric was frowning as he twisted in his saddle to look over his shoulder, as if he could see the now-distant Castle. “The Oliphant said he wanted to send some warriors with us to the Games.”
Before Kester could reply, Auld Gommy snorted.
“Ye’re just disappointed ye couldnae stay longer,” he teased the younger man. “How many lasses did ye bed last night, eh?”
Since ‘twas well-known Giric was considered the handsomest man this side of Inverness, Kester wasn’t surprised to see his warrior smile smugly and toss back his blond curls.
“A gentleman never reveals his conquests, Gommy. Ye’d ken that, were ye a gentleman.”
“Pay nae attention to him, lad,” growled Pudge. “He’s just jealous he couldnae even get a lass to smile at him.”
Giric shook his head. “Gommy’s too auld to ken what todowith a lass if she smiled at him.”
As Auld Gommy sputtered in anger, Weesil sidled up to Kester. “The pretty lad’s right, Laird. Were we supposed to wait for Oliphant warriors?”
Kester stifled his sigh, unwilling to admit he’d been as anxious to depart the place of hard memories as his men had been to stay.
“We didnae leave until after dawn, Weesil. If he’d intended to send men along, they would’ve been waiting.”
“After a night of carousing?” The skinny man always spoke quietly, almost too low to hear. The others claimed his voice was as devious as the rest of him, but he was a good man in a fight, and his clansmen trusted him. Mostly.
Just dinnae bet against him.
Kester shook his head. “We’re still on Oliphant land. If they want to join us, they’ll catch up.”
From up ahead, there came a familiar rumbling. All the MacBains looked expectantly at the large figure on the larger horse who led them.
“Or they’ll wait for us,” Mook shouted.
Well, it wasn’t a shout, but he seemed as incapable of modulating his volume as Weesil…just in the opposite direction.
“What do ye mean?” growled Pudge, kneeing his horse into a trot to catch up with Mook, who had extended a long arm toward a thicket by a bend in the path.
“Ambush, Laird?” murmured Weesil, his hands dropping to one of the dozen knives strapped to various belts.
Kester held up a hand to halt his man from pulling a blade. With the number of them, ‘twas more likely Weesil would stab himself or slice off a pertinent article of clothing.
And having seen Weesil’s naked backside once—Kester shuddered, remembering that particularly strange reaving adventure last autumn—there was no need to see it again.
“Hold. We’ll see what Pudge finds.”
