Not Half Plaid (Bad in Plaid 2)

Solemnly, Brodie nodded. “I’ll remember that. Thank ye for yer advice.”

“Aye,” drawled Fenella as she swaggered toward him. “Eppie’s full of sausage-moistening advice.”

“Tarts! The pair of ye will drive me to the devil!” the old woman exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “I’ve half a mind no’ to give ye the extra time ye’ll need for today’s contest!”

“We’ll need extra time?” Fenella’s gaze sharpened as she swung her attention back to Eppie. “We’ve no’ even started the noon meal!”

Her friend’s wagging finger turned to Fenella. “Aye, and ye’ll need it. Are ye going to continue to bedevil me?”

“Tarts, Eppie!” Fenella put on her most innocent expression. “I would never bedevil ye. I’m crushed to ken ye would even consider such a thing from me.”

The old woman snorted, amusement sparkling in her eyes as she turned away from them and hobbled across the kitchen. When Fenella glanced at him, Brodie dropped one eyelid in a lazy wink which made her snort with laughter.

And suddenly, he was hit with the most interesting realization: He was having fun.

It was fun to stand here in this cozy space, teasing Eppie and flirting with Fenella. It was fun to sneak kisses from her, to revel in this breathless feeling of wondering when they’d be able to sneak away again.

Aye, part of it could be because yesterday, he finally had his tongue on her clitoris, finally spilled his seed with his fingers inside her. Yesterday, she’d made a joke about sausages and had wrapped her sweet lips around his cock, and he’d known he’d never be the same again.

But despite the languid sort of pleasure he felt this morning, he knew there was more to this feeling of fun than just sexual fulfilment. Especially because, according to his cock’s reaction to Fenella’s cheeky grin, he was more than ready to repeat yesterday’s fun.

Nay, ‘twas Fenella herself.

He wanted her, aye, but he wanted her happiness more. He wanted to make her happy. He was having fun because she was happy. He was enjoying his time with her because he—

He loved her.

Fooking hell, he loved her.

“Ye look worried,” she whispered as she moved beside him. “Dinnae worry; the secret ingredient cannae be that bad.”

When she slid herself beside him, Brodie was still reeling from the casual realization. He loved her, and he suddenly felt weak-kneed.

Which was saying a lot, considering he only had the one working knee.

With a low growl, he threw his arm around her shoulders and snugged her up tight next to him. Where she belonged.

Didn’t she?

How about ye? Where do ye belong?

She poked him in the side. “Octopus? Peacock? Eggplant? Whatever she’s got in that basket cannae be all that bad.”

Eppie’s back was to them as she dug through a basket beside the back wall. Brodie shook his head.

“None of those are phallic.”

“Eggplants are, a bit.”

He glanced down at her. “Eggplants?”

“They’re big and purple and juicy. Oh, and shiny!”

“Shiny?” Brodie shook his head. “They’re bigger on one end than the other. And they have that green bit at the top. Nae one in their right mind would look at an eggplant and think, ‘Och, now this is a perfect representation of a cock. I’ll definitely use this symbol when I’m writing messages to my friends and dinnae want to spell out the word cock.’ That would be ridiculous.”

She was trying not to laugh. “Mayhap they’ve just never seen a cock?”

“Or an eggplant,” he grumbled. “If yer cock does look like an eggplant, ye might need to visit a healer…”