Plaid to the Bone (Bad in Plaid 1)

“I shot ye,” she reminded him unnecessarily.

His lips twitched. “And even that was fun for— Nay, I cannae lie with a straight face. ‘Twasnae fun, but at least I got to be with ye during it.”

Her eyes searched his face. “Ye really think I’m fun?”

“I ken it.” His fingers tightened around hers. “And I dinnae want ye to think ye have to spend yer days sewing or burping bairns or”—what else had she said? Och, aye—“or overseeing menus. I want ye to spend yer days being ye.”

“But ye’re a laird.”

He sighed. “Aye, I am. Can I tell ye about McClure Keep?”

Hesitantly, she nodded, but instead of speaking right away, he stood, pulling her with him. The motion wasn’t without a few swallowed groans, but he was pleased he was able to stand upright without the damned walking stick. Now he’d show her he could walk just fine.

The first step was uncomfortable, but he’d had many years’ experience ignoring minor pains, and this was no different. His hand in hers, he began to walk. “McClure Keep sits on the bluffs overlooking the loch—”

Shewas the one who was having trouble walking. He felt her stumble, so he turned to catch her just in time. She slammed against his chest, her hands caught between them, and he had to shift his weight onto his wounded leg to support them both, which caused him to wince.

“Oh! Oh, Kenneth. I am sorry!”

“Nay, lass, accidents happen. Was it a piece of fruit this time?”

Slowly, she straightened, her cheeks flushing becomingly, and stepped away far enough for him to see the walking stick tangled between her legs.

“Och, the thing’s a nuisance,” he muttered as he bent to scoop it up.

But she darted forward and pulled it from his hands. “ ‘Tis a tool, Kenneth, and it wants to be helpful. Why no’ use it?” She was smiling shyly up at him. “For me?”

Well, he couldn’t deny that, and besides, he wasn’t as young as he once was. And he had been shot.

Smiling in return, he took it from her and settled it on his opposite side so he could still offer her his hand. In her enthusiasm, she took it with both of hers.

“So, McClure Keep is on the bluffs? Is that no’ dangerous?”

It felt right to tell her about his home. The home he hoped to share with her. He told her of the tall stone tower built by his grandfather, and the number and types of rooms. He told her how, if he stood just right on the parapets, he could see for miles in each direction, and even out to sea.

He told her about the stables, and the archery range, and the beach where the fishermen dragged their small boats. He told her of the seasonal festivals and the fun he remembered in his youth before he went away to serve the King, and how he wanted to start doing all those things again.

He told her how much fun was waiting to be had.

As they walked— Well, strolled. Limped?

As they limped through the kitchen gardens, occasionally asking one another what in hell that green spikey, weird-looking plant might be, Kenneth felt her enthusiasm grow. He loved the questions she asked and the way her eyes lit with an excited sparkle as she commented on some aspect or another of his home.

Theirhome.

“And there’s this waterfall within an hour’s ride of the keep which I think ye’ll verra much enjoy.”

He pulled to a stop and turned so she was facing him. She tilted her head back and smiled teasingly up at him.

Dimples!

“Oh, will I?”

“I think…” He nodded, his lips twitching upward. “I think it’ll verra much remind ye of something out of a folk song.”

He remembered how he’d imagined bedding his future wife there beside the waterfall. When he’d first had the notion, the woman in his arms had been faceless, nameless.

But now, he knew she’d always be Leanna.