Page 15 of A Plaid Case of Loving Ye
Well, mayhap ‘twould help him remember on his own.
She swallowed and took a deep breath, then began to speak.
She told him of her youngest sister, Leanna, ever adventurous, now happily married to a laird in the western isles.
She told him of shy Fenella—Fen—who’d married Kenneth’s taciturn bodyguard, and how the pair of them were happy to compete in the castle kitchens and bicker good-naturedly about the best way to prepare trout.
She told him of studious Wynda, who had so recently married the clan’s falconer—only he turned out to not really be an Oliphant at all, but a man running from a dangerous past—and was now happily learning how to be a mother to the man’s wee daughter.
She told him of musical Robena who was in love with her piping and Laird Kester MacBain and had decided to pursue both of them to the Highland Games. However, Nicola had no idea how that particular sister was doing since she’d left home directly after Robena, but she had complete confidence in her younger sister’s determination.
She even told him of their bastard brother Evander, although she left out the fact he was a King’s Hunter as well. ‘Twas a secretive occupation and not everyone knew of it, nor understood. Hell, not everyone even knew Evander was Da’s son, much less what he did!
She told Ramsay—still stroking strongly through the loch—about her older sister, Coira, who managed the clan’s business now that Da had gone daft. To her surprise, she told him of her father’s ridiculous plan to see them all married.
“And so, whichever one of us marries and produces an heir first will get to beladyof the clan, and her husband becomes the laird.”
From ahead of the boat, Ramsay grunted. “Thatdoessound daft. A man isnae a good leader just because he can plant his seed in a woman’s womb.”
Aye, just look at Da.She shifted against the wooden planks, a warmth in her belly growing at the thought of Ramsayplanting his seed.
“I ken it well. I share a bedchamber with Coira, after all, although I’m down in the sick room more often than not. She was livid at Da’s ultimatum since she’s been running things for so long.”
The boat gave a jerk and she realized they were alongside the dock. Two large hands reached out of the water and gripped the edge, and she was relieved their arrival had interrupted the conversation before Ramsay had a chance to ask the name of her clan.
In a stunning display of strength, he lifted himself from the water, droplets streaming across his gold shoulders, and heaved himself onto the wooden dock.
I guess his arm really is healed.
He lay on his back, panting, in full view of anyone who might glance over the edge of the battlements or come around the corner of the castle. And because he didn’t seem to mind his display, Nicola nonchalantly pushed herself up onto her elbows to peek at his thatch of darker curls.
Aye, that great member of his was flaccid now, lying limp in the shadows of the coarse hair at the junction of his thighs. One of her brows rose in conjecture, thinking of Wynda’s manuscripts,A Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts.
Suddenly, the thought of taking that limp member in her mouth, of performingThe Supplicant Swanupon it, or mayhapThe Invasion of Brussels,orAll Out of Carrots, had her pressing her own thighs together, trying to ease the ache.
Nay, it wouldn’t work. She’d have to wait until tonight, until she was beneath the blankets in the small chamber she’d been given, to reach under her chemise and touch herself, imagining ‘twashishands—
“Nicola?”
“Aye?” she blurted, startling and slamming her head against the wood of the bench.
“Listen verra carefully.” He sounded as if he’d gained his breath again. “I want ye to hand me my kilt. Then my belt. Then Marigold. In that order.”
“Why?” Why was the order so important?
The answer came in a hiss. “Because Sister Mary Novella is staring at me and I dinnae like the way she’s grinning.”
Nicola tossed him his kilt hard enough that he became tangled in it as he tried to sit up.
She was giggling by the time she inched upright and onto the bench and was able tohand—not toss—him his belt. He pretended to frown as he reached down for the goat, but she could see he was fighting laughter as well.
As soon as Marigold’s hooves touched the wooden planks of the dock, she darted off with a bleat and a flip of her tail. Nicola saw her butt into Sister Mary Novella, and the pair of them went down. By the time the nun scrambled up—without bending her knees, which was really a remarkable sight—the animal was long gone and Ramsay was outright chuckling.
He took all the bundles she offered, laying them out on the dock. Then he straightened and stretched, his arms glistening from the water of the loch. He shook his head, his shaggy mane spraying water just like a hound’s. She found herself smiling at how bloody well satisfied he looked after his exertion.
Aye, he was healed.
But then…
