Page 23 of Don't Give A Damn About My Plaid Reputation
Whose chin was surprisingly furry.
She snorted when she laughed,
And refused to take a bath,
And her actions caused her father to wor—
Mayhap she should reconsider casting dispersions on the other lass’s reputation. Especially since she was lying here in the predawn darkness with said lass’s betrothed.
Trying not to enjoy it.
Desperately failing.
St. Kelsi, help me to be strong.
He’d made his choice. She wouldn’t humble herself.
Unbidden, her hips flexed backwards so her rear end could cradle his hardness.
Are ye no’ listening? Ye said ye wouldnae humble yerself!
Aye, but mayhap alittlefondling….
She felt the moment he awoke. One second, Kester was soft and cozy against her back—except for one part of him which very much was the opposite of soft—and the next, he’d stiffened and rolled away from her.
As if she were a leper. Or on fire. Or a leper who was on fire.
Ye’re getting strangely morbid.
Well, who could blame her? She’d had a rough few days.
She saved her sigh until she felt him push himself to his feet and stomp away, and then she wrapped her arms around herself to try to mimic his warmth.
It didn’t work.
The MacBain men were an interesting lot. Her eldest sister, Coira, had interacted plenty with the Oliphant warriors…but Pudge was the only one Robena had spent any time with over the last month, and even that was limited to sitting beside him at a few meals, listening to him praise his laird. ‘Twas from Pudge that Robena had learned of Kester’s unfailing devotion to his clan, and how he’d put his own life on the line many times to protect his men.
Soof course,he’d sign right up for marrying his enemy’s daughter if it meant ensuring his clan’s future.
But other than Pudge’s praise, she only knew the rest of the MacBains by sight.
As the day progressed, she got to know them each better.
Auld Gommy was the band’s cook—because he was “auld enough to ken how to make something from practically nothing,” according to Giric—although Gommy assured her he was still “nimble and agile with a sword, lad, and I dinnae mean a blade!” She’d laughed along with the others, despite feeling that mayhap she should be nauseated by such a claim. His legs—where they stuck out from his kilt—were like kindling sticks, and his beard was long enough to wrap around his neck for warmth…but he was quick to offer well-meaning advice.
Even if few of them asked.
Pudge was the grumpy one, who always seemed to have a skin ofsomethingstrong-smelling at hand. He wasn’t as old as Gommy and his face was moreweatheredand less wrinkled…where theweatheredwasn’t sunshine and rainbows, but rather thunderstorms and lightning bolts. Secretly, she called him Craggy.
Because his expression was just one giantcrag.
He and Mook rode point together throughout the day because they both were at peace with their own thoughts, and didn’t need to blather, as Wynda called it. Pudge, because he didn’t seem to want anything to do with other humans, and Mook because….
Well, if Pudge was a crag, then Mook was a mountain: huge, hard, and with a head full of rocks.
But he liked to laugh—even if ‘twas at things like frogs and leaves and Giric’s cock jokes—and Robena couldn’t help but like him.
Giric was likeable as well, although his handsome face made her uncomfortable at the beginning. She could tell he was used to being able to charm others, and she tried extra hard not to give herself away.
