Page 54 of Plaid Attitude
He merely grunted and changed direction.
When they reached her chamber—the room she used to share with Nic, the room where she sparred with Bess, the room where she’d given Doughall her virginity—she pulled her hand from his and hurried to the washbasin.
She told herself the reason her hands shook as she poured the water from the ewer was that ‘twas chilled.
She knew ‘twas a lie.
Splashing the water across her face and wiping it with the soft rag didn’t help either; if anything, she was shaking harder as she turned to offer the rag to him. Doughall had been scraping the mud from his boots onto the hearth, but now he paused, one foot propped against the opposite knee.
“Coira?”
She couldn’t answer but twisted the rag in her hands.
Slowly, he lowered both boots to the floor and straightened. “Love, what’s wrong?”
So much for appearing calm. “I…”
But there were too many words. Too many feelings. As she sucked in a breath, her eyes filled with tears.
And, the next instant, he was there in front of her, reaching for her, pulling her against his chest.
“Shh,” he murmured, stroking her back. “I’m sorry, Coira. By St. Berthwald’s sacred tailbone, I’m sorry.”
Her tears were silent, soft, strange. Instead of sobs, she tried to contain her feelings, knowing she had so much more to go through this day. “Why?” she mumbled against him, even as her fingers curled around his plaid, trying to anchor him in place.
“I didnae think, love, how hard this must be on ye. To take another’s life…”
Her lips tugged into a frown as she lifted her head. Of all the things to complain about today… “The bastard deserved it. I’d do it again.”
“Aye,” he agreed ruefully. “As would I. But I ken ‘tis no’ easy to make that decision.”
At the time, she hadn’t thought of it. She’d seen Arnold, seen what he’d been about to do, and had taken action to prevent him from hurting Bess any further.
In the excitement of the day, the actual sensation of her blade slipping into the chest of another human…that had been forgotten. But now she shivered and wondered if shewasgoing to be aright.
“Coira,” he whispered. When she forced herself to focus on him, he offered her a small smile. “’Twill be fine. Mayhap no’ now, but eventually. And I’ll be here for ye.”
‘Twas almost exactly what she’d said to Bessetta, earlier that day. The fact he remembered caused her eyes to fill with tears again.
“Och,” he murmured, dropping a kiss to her forehead. “I intended to make ye feelbetter.”
“Ye did,” she assured him, trying not to cry. “I…” She swallowed. “Ye’ll be here for me. Ye’vealwaysbeen here for me.”
“Aye, love.” Another kiss, softer. “And nae matter what the future holds for us, nae matter my role in yer life, I alwayswillbe here for ye.”
He’d asked her to marry him.
He’d told her he loved her.
And she…she’d been completely fooking distracted.
Well, time to change that.
She shifted her hold on him so her arms were around his middle, pressing him close to her, and cocked her head back to stare up into his eyes.
“Ye willneverken how much I’ve appreciated yer support, Doughall,” she began, trying to find words. “For so long, I thought ye were a competitor, someone I needed to beat in order to show Da I was capable.”
“Ye’re capable,” he assured her, lacing his hands behind her back to anchor her in place. “And ye never had to prove that to me. I always kenned it.”
