Not Half Plaid (Bad in Plaid 2)

The old woman was hobbling nearer and stopped beside his crutch. With a grunt, she stooped to retrieve it and handed it to him. Brodie thanked her with a silent nod, and Fen absolutely did not notice how regal and graceful it was.

Not at all.

“I’ve had an idea about that, milady.”

Frustrated at both of them now, Fen scowled as she tugged at her braid and turned away. “Dinnae call me that,” she muttered, at the same time Brodie asked, “What’s yer idea?”

Eppie clearly would rather answer him. “A contest!” she announced gleefully. “We have a castle full of guests now, eh? And we’ll be preparing some fancier than usual dishes, unless I miss my guess!”

Intrigued despite herself, Fen peeked at the old woman. “What kind of contest?”

“A cooking one?” Brodie supplied.

Eppie bobbed a nod. “The pair of ye have been at each other’s throats for weeks now, tittering back and forth about how to prepare each dish, or which is the better recipe.”

Because I am afraid he’s the better cook. I’m afraid, if everyone kens it, then I’ll lose my place here. And if I dinnae have that, what do I have?

A lifetime of fear and worry and doubt.

But…nay. She knew she was a good cook. She knew she belonged here.

So why not prove it?

Her chin rose. “I’m listening.”

Her old friend smiled. “Good, good! See, I’ve been considering this.” One bony finger pointed at each of them in turn. “I’ll find the judges—three of them, I think, to be safe. No’ me, because I’ll be down here, overseeing the pair of ye.”

“And what will these judges do?” Brodie asked in a bored tone.

“Judge ye, of course!” She cackled. “My idea is that each challenge—round? Bout?—will have a specific ingredient, something ye both have to use in yer dishes. Ye each prepare that ingredient the way ye like, and the judges decide which is better!”

Brodie was already shaking his head. “’Twillnae be fairly judged. Fen is an Oliphant, and I’m an outsider.”

An outsider? Is that…is that how he thought of himself? Fen bit her lip, studying him.

But Eppie didn’t seem fazed. “Which is why we’ll no’ tell the judges who cooked each dish! And we dinnae need only Oliphants to judge, now that we have so many visitors!” She poked Brodie in the shoulder. “Dinnae fash, wee laddie. I’ll arrange it all, and ‘twill be fair!”

Slowly, his gaze shifted to Fen, and one of his brows twitched.

She knew he was asking her opinion on the contest. He was allowing her the choice.

She swallowed, hesitating. This was her home, her place…but didn’t he deserve a place? Would he always feel like an outsider?

Nay, he’ll be leaving with Kenneth and Leanna soon, will he no’?

Strangely, that thought didn’t make her feel any better.

At her hesitation, she watched his lips thin and imagined him considering. Finally, that same brow rose in challenge. “Concerned no’ everyone shares yer opinions about butter, lass?”

That did it.

“Ye’re on,” she growled, shifting to face both of them, and wishing her thighs weren’t still tingling from the pleasure he’d given her. “I’ll show ye!”

His chin dropped in agreement, and she could swear she saw a glint of approval in his dark gaze. “Good. I accept as well. Ye’ll arrange it, auld woman?”

Eppie just snorted with laughter and poked him again. “Auld woman, eh? As if ye dinnae ken my name.” She winked lewdly. “But I’ll forgive such a fine lad as yerself, as long as ye promise to fill my belly with fine-tasting food!”

“I find yer bargain acceptable,” he deadpanned, which sent her into peals of laughter.

And Fen wrapped her arms around her middle, resisting the urge to hunch forward, and hoping she hadn’t just made a terrible mistake.

When Brodie’s impassive gaze met hers, and she remembered the way he’d crooned against her skin as she rode him, Fen had to swallow. Mayhap it had been a mistake to accept the challenge, but there was no way she could turn back now.