Plaid to the Bone (Bad in Plaid 1)

“Which king?”

“What?”

She shifted forward, her knees knocking aside bits of the poor bastard they were sitting upon. “Which king?”

“The…” He blinked. “I cannae tell ye.”

“Cannae, or willnae?”

“Willnae.”

Her voice slashed like a whip. “Why no’?”

He sighed again, then pushed himself to his feet. He took the time to brush himself off, then reached down to offer his hand to her. She hesitated a moment, then accepted his help, holding the candle aloft with her other hand, and very definitely not looking down.

“Come. The exit is this way, aye?” he asked, although he was already mapping out their return trip through the passages. “We need to gather more light, and mayhap a stretcher and a few more strong backs.”

He planned to leave her with her family—and perhaps a bracing drink—when he returned to collect the bones.

Silently, she followed him through two of the correct turns, before asking quietly, “Why will ye no’ tell me which king?”

“Because…we’re wearing kilts, aye, which is a modern invention. But there are rushes on the floor, and we’re using torches for light; our technology is all confusing. Are we in the thirteenth century, or the sixteenth? If I tell ye which king I’m working for, ‘twill too clearly identify the time period.”

“Och, that makes sense, I suppose.” To his surprise, she slipped up beside him as the corridor widened, and pinched his left arse cheek. “I kenned ye were smart, the moment I saw ye.”

“Good.” He nodded firmly, then turned left. “I like to keep things vague.”

“Oh! Stop here, this is the entrance to my chamber.”

Kenneth whirled to face her. “Ye have yer own private entrance to the secret passages?”

She was peering at a spot on the wall, as if searching for something. “Och, aye. Most of the chambers on this floor do. Ye did good getting us this far, and— Here ‘tis!” she declared triumphantly, as she depressed a spot of the wall, which looked exactly like every other spot on the wall, and a door swung open.

Leanna pulled him through the door, then blew out the candle as soon as she ducked into her chamber. When he followed, he was surprised to discover ‘twas still daylight. It felt as though they’d been in the semi-darkness forever, but likely, only an hour or two had passed.

As she shut the secret door behind them, Kenneth took the time to look around. Of course, he’d seen the chamber over her shoulder that first day, when she’d given him the tour, but from the inside it looked…smaller.

Aye, smaller. There was barely space for the bed, which seemed too small to even fit his large frame. A few gowns hung from hooks by the wall, but otherwise, it was a spartan space.

“I dinnae spend much time here,” she confessed from behind him. “Mostly I’m down in the great hall, or in the ladies’ solar, which is on this level.”

She seemed embarrassed, and Kenneth continued his turn to face her. “Dinnae fash, lass. I wasnae— Och! Look at ye!”

Leanna looked as though she’d fallen into a mountain crevice, which happened to be inhabited by particularly enthusiastic spiders. There were webs in her hair and spread across the gown she wore. There were also smudges of dirt on each cheek and high on her forehead, interrupted by tracks of tears she must’ve shed in the darkness.

Now she looked up from her examination of her gown and twitched a brow at him. “Do I look as bad as ye do?”

At that question, Kenneth swiped a hand across his face and came away with a handful of spider webs and dust.

“This is foul,” he muttered.

Giggling, she darted toward the only other piece of furniture in the room; a chest with a basin and ewer atop it. As she poured, she called over her shoulder, “The water isnae warm, but ‘twill do.”

As he stepped up beside her, she turned and, smiling, presented him with a soft cloth. He began to clean his face and hands, glad to see the rest of him had made it out with less evidence of their adventure. Of course, she’d been walking ahead of him for most of the time, leading the way, so it made sense her gown had accumulated most of the webs and dust.

He opened his mouth to offer her the cloth, just as the swish of material behind him distracted him. He turned, and his jaw—still open—dropped further.

Leanna had untied the lacings of her gown while he’d been distracted and was now delicately stepping out of it. When she bent to scoop it off the floor, her arse pressed against the thin linen of her chemise, reminding him of the way she’d looked in that waterfall: proud and unapologetic.