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

Sighing, Kester ran his free hand through his hair. “Aye. She’s sleeping now and is warm enough. I….” He shook his head then swallowed, unsure how to express his terror. “When she went under, Pudge….”

The older man nodded. “Ye didnae hesitate to save her. Ye love her.”

He tried to whisper “Aye,” even though it hadn’t been a question. He cleared his throat and tried again. “She cannae swim.”

His friend heard the words he didn’t say. Pudge clasped him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry it has to be like this, Laird.”

Kester’s fingers curled into a fist, not caring that he crumbled Gordon’s missive.

Nay.

He was done sacrificing himself and his future for the King. Aye, aligning with Murray would end the feud and bring his clan peace…but aligning with the Oliphants could bring them prosperity—and his heart’s desire.

He and Robena were meant to be together.

Nay, he could not accept that there was no hope for a future between them. Not with how much he loved her. Not with how he felt today when he thought he’d lost her.

“Nay,” he repeated, his gaze hardening as he began to climb. “It does no’ have to be this way.”

And he thought he might’ve heard from behind him a very faint, “Good luck, Laird.”

When he entered her room, Kester found Robena as he’d left her, a bowl of stew steaming beside her bed.

He stripped down and gathered her in his arms once more. She roused enough to eat a few mouthfuls, although he could tell she wasn’t really awake. Thank the saints this seemed like a normal sleep, born of exhaustion and bone-deep cold, rather than the unnatural sleep of a few hours ago.

Now she slept peacefully, the faintest smudge of stew on her lower lip. Gently, he used the pad of one thumb to wipe it away, and his touch lingered on her lips.

“I love ye, lass.”

When he slid one arm under her, she turned to him so trustingly, as if she had no cares in the world, and they were not lying naked in bed together.

For warmth.

He almost believed the lie.

“I love ye,” he whispered again. “And I thought I’d lost ye.”

In that moment when she went under, his heart had died. And when he’d pulled her from the water and felt her heart beating against his palm, even as she coughed up water—and then her lunch….

Kester shuddered and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I love ye, Robena Oliphant, and I cannae lose ye again.” A yawn interrupted him. “I willno’ lose ye again.”

On that whispered vow, he hauled her up against him, and his eyes fluttered closed.

* * *

Mmm.Robena was warm. Deliciously warm. And cozy, too.

She was lying on her side, her hand pillowing her cheek, and as she slowly woke, she couldn’t help the contented little wriggle her rear end made, delighting in the all-encompassing warmth after the frigid fright she’d had earlier.

That little wriggle was interrupted, however, by something hard.

Something hard pressed against—she experimentally uncurled a bit, arching her back—against all of her. Something hard, something warm, curled around her, protecting her.

She grinned into the semi-darkness.

There was a hand on her hip, and that’s when she realized she was very, very naked.

Well, that’s the perfect state to be when this particular hardness is pressed against ye, aye?