Page 47 of Don't Give A Damn About My Plaid Reputation
“Och, aye! The crofter thought we were going to kill his beastie! He was so scared he was ready to shite himself!” Giric guffawed, slapping at his thigh. “And then we sheared his sheep!”
Robena hesitated. “Ye…stole his sheep?” There hadn’t been any rape and murder?
But Auld Gommy shook his head. “Nay, lad, we just sheared them. A few weeks early! Stole all the wool and it kept the MacBains warm all winter long!”
Pudge offered, “We’ve stolen goats afore, though. Do ye ken how hard ‘tis to herd goats?”
“Impossible!” hooted Giric.
“Only about half of them made it back to restock our herds,” Auld Gommy corrected. “The rest wandered off, because Mook is shite at keeping track of goats. Remember the time we plucked the chickens?”
“Och, aye, and stuffed the feathers into pillows.” Pudge finally cracked a smile. “And it turned out Weesil was allergic to chicken feathers.”
The rest of the men roared with laughter and Robena slowly sank onto a boulder.
Plucking chickens? Stealing wool?Shaving a horse?
“That’s…. Ye just cause mischief?” she clarified weakly.
Giric slapped her back, causing her to pitch forward. “Do we ever! We’ve made life hell for the Murrays who dare to claim Kester’s Meadow as their own! And we will until it belongs to the MacBains once more!”
As it will once Kester marries Lady Elspeth.
Robena didn’t miss the fact that every bit of mischief these men caused somehow benefitted the MacBains.
“Leave the lad alone,” admonished Pudge. “Robbie expected us to be murdering people, stealing cattle, and burning crops, I expect.”
She swallowed, and when all the men turned astonished gazes at her, managed a weak shrug. “Ye saidreaving.”
“Aye!” Giric slammed a palm to his chest. “No’murdering!”
Mook nudged his horse with his boot, sounding forlorn when he asked, “What would I do with cattle? I cannae even keeponeanimal moving.”
Auld Gommy spat. “And burning crops is a waste of foodandfire.”
“Kester’s Meadow will be ours again soon,” Pudge pointed out. “‘Twould be stupid to burn it or damage the herds it supports.”
“Honestly, lad, whoraised ye?” Auld Gommy shook his head in despair. “Ye have a horrible definition of mischief.”
Or they had a horrible definition ofreaving.
But they’d become her friends and she’d hurt them, so she offered a sincere look when she said, “I’m sorry I offended ye. Thank ye for taking the time to explain.”
Auld Gommy sniffed haughtily and pushed himself to his feet. “Well, ye apologize prettily, I’ll give ye that.”
Pudge held up his hand for silence. “The laird’s returning. I recognize those hoofbeats.”
Sure enough, a few minutes later Kester and Weesil rode into their clearing. Their legs, and most of their horses, were dripping wet. The man she loved was wearing an easy smile, and ‘twas easy to imagine him already planning theirmischief.
“What’d ye learn, laird?” Giric called.
“Plenty of pickings, lads!” Kester swung down. “All is well here?”
Giric jerked a thumb at Mook who was crouched over his mount. “Ignore the beastie. He’s no’ dead, just lazy.”
“Who, Mook?” asked Weesil, sliding out of his saddle as well.
“No’ Mook, the hor—och, ye’re teasing.” Giric rolled his eyes. “Are ye going to tell us the plan, or do we have to drag it out of ye?”
