When she trailed off, Leanna looked up, pleased for once that she knew what her sister had intended to say. “The ghost, aye,” she finished for Nicola. “The Ghostly Drummer of Oliphant Castle.”
Nicola was frowning. “What’s his fault?”
“This!” When her sister continued to stare at her as if her hair had caught fire, Leanna scoffed and threw her arms out to each side, careful to maintain a grip on her cup of paint. “This!” she repeated more forcefully. “All of it!”
Nicola glanced around the solar, and Leanna followed with her own gaze.
It wasn’t unusual for the six sisters to gather here, since their mother tended to keep to her own chambers when she wasn’t nagging Nicola for some new cure, or pestering the housekeepers about the dust which made her sneeze, or finding fault with one of her daughters for not standing straight enough, or bending over her mending hoop to alter one of Leanna’s gowns so it better showed off her bosoms and thus would catch a man…
Frowning, Leanna realized she’d quite lost track of her original line of thought. What had she been mentally complaining about?
Och, aye. Today, only the four of them were present in the solar. Quiet Wynda was laboring over her manuscript at her desk in front of the window where the light was the best. Fen and Coira were off doing something useful, most likely, while Leanna was relegated to the solar, where she was—no one could argue—completely useless.
“This?” Nicola repeated. “All of this what?”
“This—this uselessness!” Leanna blurted in exasperation. “Just sitting here on our hands, when we could be off having fun!”
Her sister’s expression slowly cleared knowingly, and she bent back over her herbs table and began to clean. “Och, ye’re still bitter about that? About being told ‘tis time for ye to grow up? But how is that the drummer’s fault?”
“Because!” Leanna rolled her eyes, plunked her cup down on her sister’s worktable, then stomped over to the chest where Nicola kept her equipment. Surely there was a brush she might borrow in there. “Because he’s the one who gave Da the idea in the first place!”
“Ye mean the idea that ‘twas time we were all married?” Nicola asked dryly, as Robena’s music increased in volume, likely in an attempt to cover their bickering.
“He gave Da the idea of how to do it,” muttered Leanna in irritation as she dug through her sister’s supplies. “Where’s yer paintbrush?”
“I’ve hidden it from ye.”
“Fine,” Leanna huffed as she slammed the lid. “I can use a stick just as well.”
When she turned back to Nicola, her sister’s arms were crossed and a smirk tugged at her lips. “What?”
Nicola shrugged. “I’m waiting to hear how us having to get married is the drummer’s fault.”
With a sigh, Leanna plopped down in a chair, crossing her arms to mirror Nicola and—since their mother wasn’t there to nag her—slouching. For good measure, she scooted her arse down so she could slump even further, knowing a pout wasn’t as effective while using correct posture.
And this was most definitely worth pouting over.
Leanna had to admit she couldn’t exactly blame Da for worrying about the future of the Oliphants. Since he’d been blessed with only daughters—the six of them—there wasn’t a clear choice to take over the clan after he was gone. But this?This ridiculous idea that the future of the clan somehow rested on their shoulders…?
Leanna frowned in frustration.
“This is too much to worry about,” she muttered. She didn’t want to be a lady. “Why should I have to marry and birth a son, just to set Da’s mind at ease?”
When Nicola laughed, Leanna realized she’d conveyed her displeasure out loud.
“If ye’d been born a lad, none of this would be an issue,” her older sister reminded her. “I can remember how anxious everyone was when Mother went into labor with ye.” As the second-oldest, Nicola would’ve been five years old at Leanna’s birth. “Da kenned ‘twould be Mother’s last pregnancy—she barely survived it, being so sickly—and was praying for a lad.”
Leanna rolled her eyes, knowing how the rest of the story went, and trying to forestall it. “And they were all verra pleased when I was born, despite no’ having a penis.”
“Ye having a penis would’ve saved us all.” Robena called out, her fingers never stilling in their creation of a beautiful melody.
“Da declared a day of mourning for yer nonexistent penis,” Nicola continued solemnly. “And we were all verra sad, kenning the fate of the clan rested on our wee shoulders.”
Scoffing, Leanna slouched even further, her chin now resting on her chest. Och, to no’ have to be the youngest! “That isnae true. Ye were all too young to comprehend—”
“The others, perhaps, but I kenned.” Nicola sighed dramatically, though her eyes twinkled merrily. “ ‘Tis too bad ye werenae born a lad, Leanna. All this would be moot. But since ye managed to lose yer penis somewhere between conception and birth”—she winked, then continued—“we’re all forced to battle for the future of the clan.”
“I dinnae want to be responsible for the future of the clan!” Leanna knew she sounded like a whiney child, but she also knew her sister wouldn’t begrudge her a bit of whining.