Page 7 of Plaid Attitude
She dropped the baby.
Or rather, she would’ve, had her sister not stepped up beside her and pushed Relic back into her arms. Nicola began to clean her son’s bare hands and legs—covered in dust from under the bed—as Coira’s mind struggled to process Doughall’s words.
Verra fine. He called ye verra fine!
Aye, but…a bairn? He was the kind of man who liked to see a woman holding a bairn? Coira wasn’t the maternal type, was she? Aye, of course she loved Relic, and even wee Wren, but they didn’t count. If he was attracted to maternal women, then she—
Wait.
Wait, it didn’tmatterwhat kind of women Doughall Moray was attracted to! She certainly didn’t care, no matter if hehadbeen admiring her arse!
Then why does the thought of himtouchingyer arse—and other bits—make ye so warm?
Aww, fook.
Scowling, Coira didn’t bother to swallow down the growl in her throat.
And Doughall, damn him, merely smiled.
On any given day, he was a handsome man. Hair long enough to brush his ears, but too short to be pulled back in a queue, had once been a rich, dark brown, but now was peppered with a few gray strands. He kept his beard trimmed close, and his blue eyes crinkled at the corners from three and a half decades of squinting against the sun’s glare.
Aye, he was handsome enough to make any lass’s heart race, but when he smiled?
When hesmiled…
Coira dragged her gaze away, her fierce frown directed at herself.Aye, he’s handsome, but ‘tisnae yer place to admire him.
Stepping up beside Nicola, the hedgehog in her arms, Bessetta smiled at her father. “Are ye heading to the village, Da?”
“Nay, lassie.” His voice was deep, and Coira had never noticed exactly how it affected her insides before. “Gervase needs fresh water. There’s ice on the loch, but—”
“I can warm it for him!” she declared, leaning eagerly over the bucket, the little hedgehog tucked in her arms against her belly. How in damnation didshekeep from being poked by Hagrid’s quills?
As Bessetta cooed into the bucket, Nicola tossed down the rag and took Relic from Coira’s arms. Relieved of her adorable burden—and despite her intentions to remain aloof—Coira peered into the bucket.
“Acrab?” she blurted.
“Aye,” rumbled Doughall. “Gervase.”
The little swimmer waved a claw in a menacing manner, bright red eyes shining their own warning.
Bessetta grinned. “Da doesnae like it when I bring home furry creatures to share our cottage, so I brought him Gervase last fall.”
Doughall met Coira’s eyes. “I was, of course, delighted.”
He didn’t wink. Hedidn’twink. But did one eye sort of…squintfor a moment?
The laugh caught Coira by surprise, and she tried to swallow it, which didn’t work. Instead, a strange snort emerged, which caused Nicola to raise a brow at her.
“I’m just waiting for him to molt,” Bessetta explained, reaching into the bucket to tickle the pissed-off looking crustacean. “Then I’ll give him to Edgar. I think he’ll like him!”
Doughall hummed. “Edgar?”
To Coira’s surprise, the normally loquacious lass suddenly pressed her lips together. Her eyes had widened, but now they dropped to the hedgehog in her arms. “Just…a friend.”
“A friend ye want to like ye?” Nicola asked doubtfully. “Might I suggest a present which isno’a crab?”
Over Bessetta’s head, Coira and Doughall exchanged a glance.
