Don't Give A Damn About My Plaid Reputation (Bad in Plaid 4)

Not again.

He watched his men tease her like one of them, watched her demure when they demanded a song, claiming exhaustion. Watched her watching Weesil and Mook wrap themselves in their plaid and settle in comfortable patches of grass.

Watched her realize she had no idea what the hell she was doing.

Kester pushed away from his tree and strode toward where he’d left his saddle. He pulled a blanket from beneath it—‘twould smell, but she wanted to be thought a lad, eh?—and turned back to the fire.

She was still standing, her arms around her waist, hesitantly watching the other men bed down for the night.

“Here,” he said gruffly, thrusting the blanket toward her, then nodding toward the tree. “There’s a patch of grass over there.”

“My—thanks.” She hesitated only a moment before snatching the blanket and ducking around him.

He waited until she’d swung the blanket around her shoulder and laid down in the grass before he headed toward her.

Flustered, she shot upright. “What are ye doing?” she hissed as he sat beside her.

“I’m getting comfortable.” He jerked his chin toward the grass and pulled his plaid up around his shoulders. “Ye should as well.”

“I—I cannae sleep beside ye!”

Since she’d kept her voice low, he did the same.

“Robbie wouldnae mind a warm back against his, would he? Especially if ‘tis his first night sleeping beside a fire in the wilderness?”

When she just set her jaw mulishly, he lowered his voice further. “Besides, if ye think I’m going to allow any of these bastards to sleep beside ye, ye’re mistaken.”

Her gaze snapped to his. “Ye dinnae trust yer men?”

“I trust them with my life.”

I just dinnae trust them with ye.

The dying embers threw out enough light for him to watch her swallow. “And ye, Laird MacBain?” she whispered. “Can I trust ye?”

Dagger. Heart. Twist.

Ugh.

Instead of answering, he made a point to turn his back to her, to hide behind his plaid. “Go to sleep, Robbie. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

To the Games.

“To yer wedding.”

‘Twas said quietly enough he thought he might’ve imagined it. But then he felt her back settle against his, in the ancient position of two comrades watching out for one another. It should’ve been comfortable, but it wasn’t.

Because of the hurt in her voice.