Plaid to the Bone (Bad in Plaid 1)

Chapter 6

Kenneth managedto keep his head while Leanna was screaming hers off. But then, to be fair, he’d seen considerably more bodies than she had, albeit none in such a state of…disarray.

That brief moment of light, before she’d dropped the candle, had confirmed what he’d suspected; as they’d fallen, it had been a skeleton—or near enough—which had dropped down upon them.

McIlvain.

But nay, it couldn’t be the missing Hunter, could it? He’d left that message for Kenneth and Brodie only a month ago; surely this poor bastard had been here for years and years.

Well, one thing was for certes: Sitting here in the darkness, black as pitch, and screaming wasn’t going to help.

He didn’t have any trouble finding Leanna though; he knew exactly where her mouth was, thanks to the terrified noises emerging from it. It did take him two tries to reach out and grasp her shoulders, then slide his hands down to her upper arms though.

When she paused to inhale, he forced his sternest voice, and commanded, “Leanna. Be silent.”

There was an audible click when her teeth snapped shut, but he could still feel her shoulders shaking.

“Leanna, listen to my breathing. Follow me.”

For the next dozen heartbeats, he made a point to inhale and exhale louder than necessary and was pleased to realize, after a few moments, that she was struggling to match his breaths.

After another moment, he felt her hand following his arm to his shoulder, then her fingers rested lightly on the side of his neck…and stopped.

It was bizarrely intimate, but not in the same way as their embrace only a few minutes ago.

“I can feel yer pulse,” she said softly, and he felt her hand rise to rest against her own neck. “It feels…nice.”

Nice.

Kenneth had never been complimented on something as mundane as his pulse, but he felt himself preening. “Does it match yers?”

“Mine is faster.”

Her voice sounded weak and he was worried for her. But he continued his slow and steady breaths and was so damned proud when she followed him. Her fingertips pressed against the side of his neck, every once in a while changing position, as if probing for evidence that he, at least, was alive.

After a few more minutes, sitting there in the dark, he heard what might’ve been a sigh come from her.

“And now?” he asked softly. “Do our heartbeats match?”

Our heartbeats match.

“Aye.”

Her whisper was faint, but she dropped her hand away from his neck, and he found he missed the touch. Still, she needed his strength now more than he needed her touch.

“Good,” he praised softly, rubbing his palms up and down her arms. ‘Twas not exactly cold here in the passage, but he could imagine the clamminess seeping in. “This is no’ so bad, is it?”

“I’m sitting on a dead body.”

Her voice was so quiet, he had to struggle to hear it.

“Aye, but whoever he is, he’s long dead and cannae hurt ye.”

The noise she made might’ve been one of exasperation. When she spoke, her voice was a bit stronger. “I ken that. I was just…”

“Surprised, aye.”

“That doesnae seem a strong enough word.” He could imagine her lips twitching wryly. “A skeleton dropped on us, Kenneth.”