Page 44 of Don't Give A Damn About My Plaid Reputation
Kester nodded. “Ye have a real talent, la-lad.” His throat felt thick and his eyes burned.
She ducked her head as she turned away. “Thank ye. Ex-excuse me.”
When she dropped her pipes near her saddle, ‘twas with less care than they’d been given before. Kester could tell she was hurting and pushed himself to his feet, staring after her as she escaped into the darkness, before he realized what he was doing.
He took a step toward the woods where she’d disappeared, and then Pudge was beside him.
“She’ll follow the stream,” he murmured, low enough the others wouldn’t hear him. “She’s shite at woodlore.”
Kester nodded agreement and slipped away. Behind him, he heard Weesil ask, “Where’s the laird gone?” and Mook rumbled, “Mayhap he has to piss.”
But Pudge growled, “He’s bucking up the lad. ‘Twas some beautiful piping, ye have to admit.”
The firelight and the sounds of the men faded behind Kester as he followed first the murmurs of the babbling brook, and then the thuds of some large, possibly berserk animal crashed through the underbrush ahead.
His lips twitched. She could ride a horse, but Robenawasshite in the woods.
He caught up to her in a little clearing, where she stood with her face tilted back as if admiring the stars. The moonlight glinted off the tears on her cheeks.
Kester didn’t say anything, but when he stopped beside her and took her hand, she clasped it as if it were a rope and she was drowning. Which, given she swam about as well as she crept through the woods, was saying a lot.
After a long while, Kester figured he ought to say something. “Ye’re going to win.”
She sniffed and closed her eyes. “I dinnae ken.”
“I do,” he vowed quietly. “Ye’re remarkable, Robena Oliphant.”
In so many ways.
Slowly, she turned to face him. Her lips curled slightly, sadly, mockingly. “I wish it were enough.”
I do as well, lass.
With a muttered curse, he pulled her into his arms, and claimed her lips with his. Her arms snaked around his back as he tugged on her hair to encourage her to open for him.
There in the moonlight, they kissed.
And it wasn’t enough, but it would have to be.
Here and now.
‘Twas all they had.
Chapter 7
Robena couldn’t decideif she hated herself or not. It had beenheridea to embrace the short time she had with Kester, and she was glad for that opportunity.
But that joy was tempered by what she could only describe as a constant state of impending doom as they got closer and closer to their destination.
The night she piped for the men, she and Kester spent an hour in the woods, holding one another and talking. And kissing. The kissing was nice.
But again, ‘twas sweetness mixed with sorrow. The knowledge that this was all they couldeverhave, and even this would be over soon.
She’d cried and laughed, and then—exhausted—fallen asleep in his arms.
They’d awoken before dawn; him wrapped in his plaid, and her wrapped in him.
And she’d had to bite her tongue to keep from crying again, because until she’d experienced it, she hadn’t realized how much she wanted to awakeeveryday like this.
