Page 17 of Plaid Attitude
She didn’t begrudge him his fun—if poring over letters from long-dead scholars could be considered fun—but sometimes she felt so…hopeless.
Running a clan was so damned hard sometimes, and the thought that soon she’d have to turn all her hard work over to a brother-in-law…
Swallowing down a swear word, she pushed herself to her feet.
“Excuse me, Da. I’m going for a walk.” Or a run. Or a swim in the lake. Or a really good cry.
Anythingto work off some of this tension!
Her father mumbled something.
“Da?” she snapped.
Without looking up, he waved dismissively. “A pair of geese and a whipcord ought to do it.”
She waited a moment, hands on her hips, to see if anything useful would emerge from his lips.
Of course, naught did.
The man barely noticed her.
Didn’t notice how hard she worked, didn’t notice her devotion to the clan, didn’t noticeher.
With a sigh, she slipped from the room.
The columns weren’t going to tally themselves, but for now, she needed some way to work off the tightness across her shoulders and the tension in her temples. Her steps took her toward her chamber, but once there, she stood in the middle of the room, feeling lost.
Grab her bow and head to the archery lists?
Heat some water for a steaming bath?
Talk Wynda into loaning her a few pages fromA Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts—the collection of coital positions she’d been compiling—and see if she could work off some energy—
Ye’re considering masturbating yer way to relaxation?
Well, it might work.
There was a snuffling from under the bed and she sighed again. The damned hedgehog had found something he liked under there, didn’t he? Bess had made him a nice box with a warm nest, and dropped off plenty of dried fruit, but the animal still insisted on foraging.
Under her bed.
Which was a bit insulting to the housekeeping staff, frankly.
“Hey,” she called, dropping her hands to her knees and bending a bit, trying to peer through the dimness under the bed. “Ye. Hedgehog. Hagrid?” The snuffling stopped. “I can hear ye in there, dinnae pretend ye’re no’.”
She cocked her head.
No sound.
“Ye want to play rough, eh? I’m in nae mood to be challenged,” she warned, spreading her legs and bending further at the waist, one hand going to the mattress to support herself as she twisted to see under the bed. “Come out and eat yer fruit.”
Nothing.
“Oy, ye animal, get out from under my bed!”
“Lady Coira?”
The deep voice from behind her had her gasping and wrenching upright fast enough that she heard something pop in her back.
