Page 51 of Plaid Attitude
“Is that no’ so?”
His hand covered hers against his daughter’s back. “Aye,” he rasped, then swallowed. “Aye,” he repeated, stronger. “I’ve seen…” How to explain? “There’s a person who runs this clan, one of the strongest, bravest people I ken. And that person…has let me see her benotstrong. Because…because she kens I love her and will support her. She doesnaehaveto be strong all the time.”
Coira’s lips slowly curved upward, and she flicked her gaze down to Bessetta, who was staring up at her, wide-eyed.
“He’s talking about me,” she mock-whispered to the girl.
His daughter’s gaze swiveled between the two of them. “YeloveCoira, Da?” she blurted, incredulously.
“Have I no’ been obvious about it?”
“Nay. I hadnae…” When the lass blushed and tried to peer around him at Edgar, he understood what she was trying to say.
She’d been distracted recently.
Coira cleared her throat. “Mayhap this isnae the time to speak of such things.”
“I cannae think of a better time,” Doughall protested. “I love ye, Coira Oliphant, and even if ye’ll never marry me, yemustken how deeply I respect ye and support ye.” St. Berthwald’s left ballock, he was rambling, but couldn’t seem to stop himself. “The fact ye were willing to allow me to see ye—” Nay, that wasn’t what he meant to say. “The fact yecame to mewhen ye couldnae be strong any longer…”
His throat tightened with emotion, and he shook his head, trying to clear it.
Her green eyes were bright with tears, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. She opened her mouth and he found himself holding his breath once more, wondering how she’d respond to his ridiculous, artless announcement.
But Bessetta interrupted.
“Are they dead?” his daughter asked weakly, holding the torn edges of her gown together.
The sight made his stomach clench, made him ashamed of how—for just a moment—he’d forgotten his daughter’s horror. Coira blinked rapidly and looked away then took a deep breath. When she turned her face to him once more, she was composed and raised a brow in question. Doughall gave one short shake of his head.
Coira sent him one more lingering look, but he couldn’t read it. Then she turned to his daughter.
“Nay, lass,” she murmured, helping the girl arrange her shawl to cover herself. “No’ both of them.”
“I saw…” Bessetta swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut. “Arnold was trying to…” She shuddered. “Ye killed him, Coira?”
Once more, Coira glanced at him. “I did, Bess. I saw what he was trying to do, and I thought that was the fastest way to stop him.”
“Ye made the right choice,” he assured her, his voice rough, and his knees beginning to ache from holding this position. “Thank God ye were here.”
“Aye,” his daughter said feebly, clinging to Coira. “Thank ye.”
Doughall watched the way the two women held one another, and knew he’d made the right decision in fetching Coira. Aye, if he hadn’t, he might’ve caught up to Bessetta sooner…but without Coira, would she have listened to him?
And now, Coira was able to comfort her in ways he couldn’t.
Coira had become as important to his daughter as she was to him.
“Come,” he said gruffly, rising to his feet. “Let us get ye to Lady Nicola.”
Bessetta protested weakly, even as Coira helped her up. “I’m fine.”
“Ye’re no’ fine,” Coira insisted, tucking the shawl closer around his daughter and brushing a kiss across her forehead. “But that’s to be expected. Yer father and I will be here, ready to help ye be fine again when ye’re ready. And if ye dinnae want to be fine again, after all this…well, that’s fine as well. We’ll still love ye, and so will the rest of the Oliphants.”
Doughall could tell, from the way Bessetta sniffed and tried to smile, Coira’s words had been the right ones. Even if they’d made no sense to him.
Across the clearing, Edgar moaned and stirred.
He felt Bessetta stiffen, and instinctively wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Coira was the one to ask, “What about…?”
