Page 13 of Plaid Attitude
It turned out that Barclay was returning to Scone from a mission on Sinclair land, and since he had no prisoner, decided to spend Easter with the Oliphants.
“Ye dinnae mind, do ye?” he prompted with a grin, standing knee-deep in the loch.
Since he was nude, it meant Doughall was maintaining very careful eye contact.
“Of course no’. There’s to be a grand celebration.” Poor Coira had been working so hard to plan the festivities, she hadn’t been to the lists in a few days.
He’d barely seen her at all, and he hated howimpatientthat made him feel. Itchy. As if he were missing a part of himself.
“Good. I’m inviting myself,” Barclay announced before diving in.
Later, Doughall listened as his cousin shared the latest news and accounts of his missions. “Have ye seen Brodie McClure yet? He’ll want to hear all yer updates. And Lady Coria will be pleased to hear her brother’s settling in at Castle Watshesed.”
“Aye, later,” Barclay promised, slapping him on the shoulder as they trudged back toward the Oliphant Castle. “But for now, what is new in yer life?”
“Naught. The Oliphants still stand, the winter was mild, and we have much to rejoice.”
“Thanks to ye, I ken.” When Doughall snorted, his cousin shook his head. “I mean it. I’ve met yer laird, remember? A mad auld bat, and his plan for finding his heir…” Barclay shook his head again, even as he smiled and waved at the butcher’s pretty young wife. “Most of the Highlands are buzzing with the news that aye, the Oliphants are now aligned with some powerful clans, thanks to the laird’s marriage…but without a clear heir, the future’s questionable, eh?”
Doughall stifled a sigh and scrubbed his hand over his face. His cousin was right. A power vacuum like this could be very tempting to one of the neighbors, or even one of the more powerful clans, thinking to swoop in and take by force what they couldn’t win by wooing one of the laird’s daughters.
‘Twas why the men’s training was so important; the Oliphant warriors had to be known as fierce opponents in order to discourage attack. And why Coira’s skills in managing the clan were so vital…they couldn’t appear weak, not now.
“We’re trying,” he finally admitted. “There’s been nae news of a promised grandson yet, but we’re all expecting the laird to make his announcement at Easter. Once the clan kens who the next laird will be, we’ll be stronger.”
Although the decision would likely break Coira.
She deserves to be in control.
“Who do ye favor? Evander?”
“Nay,” Doughall grunted. “The laird would never name his bastard as his heir. He says it’ll be one of his sons-in-law. Laird McClure is aulder and more experienced, but on the other side of Scotland. Brodie McClure and Pherson are both here on Oliphant land already, but neither have been trained to lead men.”
“No’ the way ye have, at least.”
Doughall shook his head, ignoring his cousin’s teasing. “Lairds MacBain and McIlvain are closer, but neither have any interest in expanding their territory, thank the saints. The Oliphants need a leader who’ll belong to us alone. My money’s on Brodie, honestly.”
“That grumpy bastard?” laughed Barclay as they began to climb the steps to the keep. “His mood has worn off on ye.”
Doughall pulled open the large doors, wide enough for his cousin to slip inside to the cooler, darker interior. “He’s a good man.”
“Aye, and I’ve fought beside him. But as ye say, no’ a leader. But enough of the clan—tell me why ye’re so dour today? Is it a woman?”
‘Twasalwaysabout women when it came to Barclay. “Believe it or no’, aye.”
“Excellent!” As they reached the great hall, Barclay slapped his shoulder so that Doughall stumbled. “Did ye finally kiss Coira?”
Doughall swung about, his fists instinctively raised.“What?”
His cousin was grinning, of course. “Dinnae pretend ye dinnae ken who I mean.Coira. The laird’s auldest daughter? Pretty redhead, always scowling?”
“She doesnae always scowl.”
“She’s always scowling atme.”
Doughall shook his head. “That’s because ye’re an arsehole. Why would I kiss her?”
Barclaytskedand sidestepped around him, heading for one of the tables. “Because, cousin, ye’ve wanted to kiss her for years,” he called, walking backward. “I dinnae blame ye—she’s a firebrand, but prickly. And she likes—well, respects ye at least. That’s something.”
