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

Weesil nodded. “We’ll need a distraction.”

Auld Gommy hopped to his feet, beaming. “Leave it to me, lads! I’ll have those two Murrays so confused they won’t ken what’s happening!”

“And how will ye do that, auld man?” growled Pudge. “Cook for them?”

The old man ignored the insult. Instead, he underwent a transformation that left Robena agape.

Auld Gommy pulled himself up to his full height, thrusting his shoulders back as he pursed his lips at Pudge. He knocked his knees together and grabbed a hold of his kilt in both hands, swinging it back and forth around his thighs.

“Tee-hee,” he cooed in a high-pitched tone. “Ye’re such a braw pair of men. Are ye brothers? Mayhap we can find a way to pass the time, lads?”

Kester sputtered on his laughter while Giric hooted.

“I’m in love,” murmured Mook, awe-struck.

Pudge shook his head and said drily, “Ye have a beard, ye auld fooker. ‘Tis down to yer waist!”

In that same high-pitched voice, squeezed through his pursed lips, Auld Gommy declared, “I’ll plait some flowers in it. They’ll never notice!”

Although Kester and Giric were still laughing, Weesil patted the air, gesturing for silence. “‘Tis a good idea, actually. The guards would be definitely distracted, and Auld Gommy could get ‘em with their kilts up and tie them up.”

“Nae one will ever believe that is a lass!” declared Pudge hotly, stabbing his finger at the old man who was still making kissing noises.

Robena was surprised to hear herself volunteering. “I’ll do it.” She pushed herself off the rock and cleared her throat. “I could pass as a lass.”

As the men stared, Kester was the first to object. “Nay. Absolutely no’.”

From the sincerity of his tone, she guessed his issue was with the thought of her participating at all.

But Weesil snorted and shook his head. “Ye couldnae pass as a lass, Robbie. No’ with that lovely mustache.”

The mustache was the issue? “But Auld Gommy’s beard—“ she began, only to be interrupted by the old man, whose voice had returned to normal.

“Nae offense, laddie, but there are certain tells a man looks for in a lass, ye ken? The way she stands, the way she plays with her hair.” He winked flirtatiously while twirling a strand of his beard around one finger. “See? Ye dinnae do any of that, and ye dinnae sound like a lass.”

Robena opened her mouth but couldn’t think of a single response.

“Besides, the mustache,” pointed out Auld Gommy smugly.

“I could…shave?” She wasn’t certain why she continued to offer suggestions, especially when the responses of the men around the circle ranged from shock to outrage.

“Shave that mustache?” Giric was shaking his head forcefully. “‘Twould be a crime against nature!”

“Are ye daft, lad?” murmured Weesil as Mook announced, “Auld Gommy’s prettier.”

Pudge just raised a brow at her, his eyes twinkling with some emotion she couldn’t identify.

Beside her, Kester muttered, “Jesu Christo.” He shook his head.

“Nay, lad,” Weesil announced with conviction. “Thank ye for yer volunteering, but we’ll use Auld Gommy this time. Mayhap when ye’re aulder ye’ll make a more convincing lass. Now, we’re all going to have to cross the river first. ‘Twas no’ too deep, but is running fast.”

As he squatted to draw a map in the dirt and the men nudged aside one of Mook’s horse’s legs to gather closer, Kester shifted his weight so he was closer to her.

“Are ye certain ye dinnae mind joining us?” he murmured. “I’ll stay behind with ye, if ye’re uncomfortable.”

“Ye’re really just planning on dyeing the sheep’s wool?” That was mischief, and she found herself grinning at the thought.

Kester shrugged, his attention still on the men, but a boyish grin on his lips. “Dyeing the sheep. ‘Tis the fun of it, ye ken.”