Page 30 of Plaid Attitude
His shrug was a little sheepish. “I thought…mayhap when Barclay returns to Scone. Although he’s shown nae interest in leaving since he’s discovered the lasses who work above the tavern. But I’ll fix up the forge, and Ellis and Samuel can have it, at least until I get back.”
Impulsively, she hugged him, and noted she couldn’t reach her arms around his shoulders. “Ye willnae be back, cousin,” she told him decisively. “The King will make ye a Hunter, and ye’ll be gallivanting about the Highlands for him, and ye’ll bring glory to us all. But dinnae forget us, aye?”
When he hugged her back, ‘twas almost painful. “Aye, dinnae fash about that, wee Coira. I’ll always be an Oliphant!”
He straightened, then slapped her on the back, as if they were training in the yard. “Now, I ken ye’re busy, so I willnae take up any more of yer time.”
“Dinnae—dinnae fash,” she managed to choke out, resisting the urge to rub her side and check for cracked ribs. “I always have time for the clan.”
“Och, ye do, bless ye. But,”—he sent her a wink and a smile—“Doughall is glaring at me, and I dinnae want him to challenge me for hugging ye.”
She whirled about, ribs forgotten, to see that Doughall was indeed watching her. And as Craig laughed and stepped into the castle, Doughall’s lips curled into a smile in that easy-going way of his.
It left her insides tingling.
Yesterday…he’d been speaking aboutmarriage.
And unless she was a complete idiot and misread his words horribly, he’d been speaking of marriage toher.
He’d said that marriage was about knowing someone, working beside them, understanding them. The way the two of them had worked together for years. The way she understood him—hopefully. The way he honored her and her work and her abilities.
And the beautiful things he’d said about her! He’d called her smart and talented and beautiful.
I believe she can do aught she sets her mind to.
His words had made her insides go all gooey, in the best way possible. Butmarriage?
She swallowed, hating the uncertainty she felt.
For so long, she’d avoided the idea of marriage, knowing she wouldn’t do well as a wife, subservient to a man. But in the last year, she’d seen her sisters’ marriages and discovered that when there was mutual love and respect, a marriage didn’t have to be a complete power imbalance.
Doughall already honors ye.
Aye, butmarriage?
Coira shook her head, dismissing the whirling thoughts as she gestured for him to join her in the great hall.
She had enough to worry about today, with her mother’s last-minute addition of “Comments from the Laird” to the agenda. She wanted Da to make an announcement before dinner, and Coira knew exactly what he was going to say.
He was going to announce his heir.
It was good, it was necessary…the clanneededan heir, needed to know what the future would hold. And from some of what Doughall had shared with her, Coira knew the neighboring clans were watching greedily, as well. If the Oliphants’ future wasn’t assured, and soon, they might have to face outside forces who would take what they had, thinking them weak.
So it was time…but Coira dreaded the announcement.
Mayhap Doughall understood that, because before the meal started, she felt him move behind her at the high table. She sat on Da’s right hand, across from Mother. Nicola and Ramsay and wee Relic were by her side, with Wynda and Pherson beside Mother. Fen didn’t like to be part of the celebrations, but Brodie had clearly dragged her from the kitchens to hear what Da had to say.
And Doughall stood behind her, offering his strength.
Unobtrusively, Coira leaned back, willing to take what he offered. She was tense, her stomach knotted, the old anger now a dull throbbing in her chest. She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all, but at the same time, knew what she needed was a good cry to release all the pressure.
Nay, what ye need is Doughall. His kisses, his touches.
‘Twas impossible to deny shehadenjoyed his particular method of stress-relief.
The clan quieted as Da slowly rose and lifted one hand for silence. Coira frowned, realizing how thin he was. His hand shook, even as he reached for his wine.
“My friends. My people. Oliphants,” he called, lifting the goblet.
