Page 4 of Plaid Attitude
“None taken,” Coira chuckled. “My da, God love him, is…”Batty. Mad. Bat-fook insane. No’ just around the bend, but also up the river and down the waterfall.“Difficult,” she finished.
When Bessetta stifled her laugh, Coira squeezed her shoulders.
“And now, Bess, our lesson has come to its end. I have to go back to work in Da’s solar, and ye have to get back to yer cottage. But I have a verra, verra important question for ye.”
“Does it have to do with why Rebecca came with me?”
First guess. “Bess,why in damnationis there a Highland coo in my bedchamber?”
The lass shrugged out of Coira’s hold. “She was lonely. She’s getting over a cold.”
“A cold,” Coira repeated flatly.
“She has the sniffles.”
“If that thingsneezesin here, I’m going to makeyeclean up the snot.”
Bessetta huffed and sank her fingers into the deep red fur. “Rebecca willnae sneeze. I said she’s gettingovera cold. She was sneezing last week.”
“In yer cottage,” guessed Coira.
“Da didnae mind.”
I promise ye he did.Doughall never complained about his daughter’s strange collection of animals, though. “Bess, the coo isnae tiny anymore—”
“She’s still a bairn!” The lass threw her arms around the animal’s neck. “She’s nae trouble and takes up little space. I’llno’let ye eat her!”
Coira hadn’t planned on eating the thing, but now that she thought of it, Rebeccawasplumping up nicely. “She takes up more than a little space now. Soon she’ll be full grown, and—”
The girl shook her head violently side to side, her eyes wide. “I’ll no’ bring her into yer chambers again, I swear!”
Sighing, Coira gave up. Obviously, the topic was distressing the lass, and it wasn’t as ifsheminded if Rebecca slept in Doughall’s wee cottage down in the village.
No’ as if ye want to sleep there as well, eh?
Absolutely not.
“Fine, lass. Can ye get her out of here, or do ye need me to push?”
“Och, nay, she’s an obedient—” Bessetta broke off with a grunt. “Rebecca, dinnae embarrass me!” She was tugging on the lead wrapped around the coo’s neck. “Getup, ye lazy beast!”
“Let me help.”
And that was how, when the door opened a moment later, Coira’s sister Nicola stepped into the chamber to find Coira bent over a half-grown Highland coo, her shoulder in its side, cursing its lineage.
“I’ll eat yer leg if ye dinnae pick it up, ye spawn of a diseased donkey and a poisonous—”
“I’d ask if I was interrupting something, but the answer ‘tis obvious.”
At the dry announcement, Coira’s head jerked up. “Nic! Ye’re here early!” she cried gladly as she lunged toward her sister.
Nicola laughed out loud as Coira enveloped her and the bairn she held in a hug.
“I insisted on hurrying. Ramsay wanted me to go easy, because of my stomach, but I made ginger tea and felt right as rain.”
Behind them, Bessetta asked, “Is rain right?” but Coira didn’t answer. Her attention was caught by her sister’s words.
“Yer stomach has been paining ye?” Her own stomach knotted and she hated herself for the disappointment she felt. “Nausea? Morning sickness?”
