Page 25 of Don't Give A Damn About My Plaid Reputation
“Goats?” rumbled Mook.
“Aye, laddie, took us a fortnight to catch and fit them with their special goat-sized war helmets, if we worked day and night.”
“How’d ye work through the night afore the invention of fire?” scoffed Weesil. “By the light of the moon?”
“Nay!” hooted Giric, “He used his own earwax to make candles!”
Auld Gommy pretended disappointment. “I’ve told ye this story already, have I?”
And Robena had to remember to keep her laugh as masculine as possible, which was difficult.
Aye, the MacBain men seemed to enjoy having a new set of ears around to listen to their stories of bravery and might—most of which she suspected were made up in an attempt to out-do one another.
But those stories were preferable to the ones about…well, sex.
Now, Robena was no prude. She was a virgin, aye, but not innocent. For years, her sister Wynda—with whom she shared a chamber—had been working on a manuscript of coital positions. She’d finally finished it, right before her marriage to Pherson, but her sisters had spent many years looking over her shoulder and learning new and interesting things about bodies. Their ownandmen’s.
Hellfire, Robena had even modeled for some of the illustrations!
But even with that knowledge, the MacBain men were…a bit much. ‘Twas one thing to read a description ofThe Clinging Vine…and quite another thing altogether to see Weesil enthusiastically acting it out, complete with grunts and squeals.
“—she took it on her face!”
As the rest of the men roared with laughter, Robena kept her own face averted, knowing ‘twas bright red, and knowing the men would tease her as an untried lad if they saw.
Mook sighed happily. “That’s my favorite part.”
“What, ye big lug?” growled Pudge.
The large warrior made a crude pumping gesture with his fist near his lap, and then opened his hand, as if releasing something. “Aaaaah.That part.”
“Och, aye, ‘tis my favorite part as well,” sighed Giric.
“‘Tis theonlypart!” snapped Pudge. “There’s nae other part to fooking, is there?”
Giric scoffed. “There’s the lead-up. Ye ken, the tits, and the bit where she fondles yer willie.”
St. Kelsi save us from idiots. Did these men really think the orgasm was theonlypart of making love?
“Well, the fondling is nice,” Giric allowed. “But theaaaaahhhis the favorite part.”
“Seems Robbie doesnae think so. Ye’ve got the lad blushing like an apple!” Weesil snickered.
Robena lifted a hand to her mouth and was—as always—surprised when her fingers encountered the mustache. It had become a part of her, one she barely noticed anymore, even while eating…although those first few days had been difficult. Now, each morning, she touched up the glue with a small pot she’d brought along and tried not to think of it.
‘Twas after all, the heart of her disguise.
“Ye dinnae think ‘tis the best part of sex?” Giric demanded, pinning her with a disbelieving stare. “Theaaah.”He made the jerking gesture again. “Spilling yer seed?”
St. Kelsi help me. Help us all.
“I think…” she hesitantly began. “I think ‘tis agoodpart, aye. But the intimacy, the touching—“
“He thinkscuddling’sthe best part of sex!” hooted Giric, throwing a punch at Mook’s arm which didn’t rock the big man, but caused their horses to shy.
The other men chuckled, except for Auld Gommy, who came to her rescue. “Lads, when ye get as auld as I am, ye realize there’s some benefit to no’ always going at a lass like a randy buck. Some finesse, aye, and cuddling, willnae be amiss.”
“He’s just saying that because his cock needs a chance to recover!” Pudge growled, and the rest hooted with laughter.
