Page 8 of Plaid Attitude
She’d worked with him for years. She knew him, knew his expressions.Thisone was asking her for more information, but she had to shrug and admit her ignorance. She remembered Bessetta mentioning Edgar’s name earlier in their conversation, but couldn’t recall the context, and had been distracted by the wholeDoughall staring at her arsething.
The commander’s lips tugged into a frown and he dropped his gaze to his daughter’s head.
“Here!” Bessetta blurted suddenly, thrusting Hagrid at Coira. “Ye take him.”
Hagrid, of course, immediately hissed and the quills above his face shot up, right into Coira’s palms. Swallowing her curse, Coira juggled the animal. “Bess, did ye feed him, at least? Can I put him down?”
The lass wasn’t looking at her father. “Only if ye dinnae mind him crawling under yer bed again—Coira!”
Coira had crouched to release the hedgehog, who did in fact immediately run for the safety of his hideout under the bed. “What?”
“I’m just going to have to crawl after him!”
Coira’s lips twitched. “He’s happy under there, and as long as he does his part to keep down the bug population, I’m happy.”
“We live in theHighlands.” Nicola interrupted. “Inwinter.Any bugs that survive are tough.”
“Any bugs that survive do so only by crawling into bed with us,” Doughall pointed out.
“Da!” Bessetta rolled her eyes and finally slipped her arm through her father’s. “That’s disgusting.”
All he said was, “Dinnae forget yer coo and yer sketches.”
As the lass hurried to grab Rebecca’s halter and the bundle of velum she carried everywhere, Doughall’s enigmatic gaze landed on Coira once more. “Milady.” He inclined his head. “Ye’ll be joining us tomorrow morning in the lists?”
Did hewanther to? Why did she suddenly care?
Her voice caught in her throat. “A-aye.”
“I look forward to it.”
And then he—and his daughter and the coo and the bucket o’ crab—were gone.
Nicola stepped up beside her, Relic squirming determinedly in her arms. “I think, dear sister, we have a lot to discuss…”
Aye. The Easter celebration was in only a few days, the linens hadn’t been laundered, and Fen and Brodie were worried about the lack of butter in the larder. Therewasmuch to discuss, and Coira was pleased her next-youngest sister was there to help.
But somehow, she doubted Nicola wanted to talk about the party…
Chapter 2
“Ye made this?”Doughall asked around a bite of bread and butter. “’Tis good.”
Bessetta beamed and slid into the chair beside him, her own thick slice of bread covered in honey. “I did. I salted it the way I ken ye like it.”
Doughall pulled the bread away from his face and squinted at it, as if he could see the salt his daughter had taken the time to mix into the butter. “Well done. Rebecca’s giving milk already?”
Since Bessetta was chewing she merely shook her head and jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the backside of the cottage they shared.
The side of the cottage given over to her animals.
She had a milking cow back there, although the elderly thing was ready for the cook pot soon, which is why he’d allowed her to adopt her new “bairn”. But Doughall supposed that as long as the older cow—whatwas her name? Lissette? Bathsheba? Something like that—continued to give milk, she’d earned her place out of the cold.
Even if his homedidsmell like a stye by mid-winter.
Other villagers housed their animals with their families, providing warmth and of course a steady supply of meat. But Bessetta refused to slaughter her bairns, and in fact wouldn’t cook meat at all. He got by on cheese and eggs and vegetables, and when the yearning for mutton or beef or venison became too great, he ate in the great hall.
But rather than complaining, he nodded and chewed. Then, since subtly wasn’t his strong suit, asked outright: “When are ye moving yer menagerie out of doors?”
