AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mayhap I meant my wandering bladder. Whatever.” Mother waved dismissively. “My point is, men dinnae like hair.”
“Well, that’s no’ true,” Robena announced. “I ken I’m nae beauty, but men seem to like my hair fine when I wear it down. Even if it does give me wretched headaches.”
“I’ve noticed Laird MacBain studying ye, for certes,” Wynda teased. “But I think he’s trying to figure ye out, no’ necessarily admiring yer hair down.”
Robena flushed and Nichola raised a brow.
“Down, hmm?” Oh joy, Da was trying to participate again. “’Tis nae the hair we object to, lassies, ‘tis the fact we like to feel some smooth skin!” He cackled.
Nichola dropped her head to her hand again.
Robena scowled. “That’s disgusting, Da. Nae one likes to think of their father feeling up their mother.”
“I’ve borne six daughters, Robena,” Mother said calmly, “In between bouts with rinderpest.”
“That’s cows, Mother!” Nichola’s forehead smacked against the tabletop. “Ye cannae catch it!”
Mother just smiled vaguely. “I just mean, ye have to assume I’ve had sexual relations with yer father at least six times, aye?”
Even Wynda groaned this time.
Robena had her hands over her ears and was humming loudly. “Mark my words, lassies. One day in the future, the trend will be for a woman to be completely hairless. Mayhap bald. We’ll see women ripping all their hair out using beeswax.”
Nichola shuddered without lifting her head. “What kind of idiots would do that? And why?”
Wynda was staring disgustedly at their father. “Likely for the approval of a man. Everything in this world seems to happen to please those fookers—“
She was saved from a scolding for her language when their oldest sister, Coira, stomped up to the dais, calling angrily over her shoulder to Doughall, the Oliphant Commander. “If ye cannae control yer men, I’ll find someone who can!”
The large man waved cheerfully, then made a rude gesture, which Coira returned over her shoulder with a muted growl. “That man is a complete waste of breath, I swear.”
Gently, Wynda risked touching her angry sister’s arm. “What’s wrong?”
Coira merely sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Naught. Naught that should be concerning.” When she dropped her hand, a tight smile was plastered on her lips. “I ran into a friend of yers. That wee angel ye’ve been teaching—she and the falconer are on their way to the castle.”
Wynda didn’t bother hiding the way her expression—and her heart—lit up as she whirled to face the main door, searching for Pherson and Wren.
Beside her, Coira chuckled. “Go on, then. If they’re hungry, invite them to join us at the high table.”
It was an honor indeed, and one Wynda wouldn’t have presumed. But in the last years, as Da’s health had declined—never so obvious as when he made that ridiculous marriage ultimatum—Coira had shouldered more and more of the responsibilities of running the clan. The Oliphants now looked to her as much as to Da when it came to making decisions.
“Thank ye,” she whispered to her sister. At that moment, two familiar figures stepped through the door and her heart leapt strangely in her chest.
She heard Coira’s chuckle behind her as she hurried across the great hall, dodging friends and clansmen alike. Ahead, she could see Pherson’s head bent to listen to his daughter, as he’d slowed his steps to match her hobbling gait. A triple brace of rabbits dangled from the hand not holding hers, and Wynda knew the morning’s hunt had been successful.
She managed to skid to a stop before she barreled into them, but just barely. Before Pherson was even fully aware of the danger, he’d shoved his daughter behind him, and reached for the daggers at the small of his back. When he realized she wasn’t a threat, he straightened, his smile a little twisted.
“Hello,” she blurted, certain her blush betrayed that she’d been thinking about him and hands and skin and pleasure moments before.
And mayhap nipples.
Mayhap.
Wren’s face had split into an adorable smile and she waved happily as she came from behind Pherson to take Wynda’s hand.
“Good morrow, little one.” Wynda squeezed her hand with a smile. “Have ye been practicing that song about the letters and numbers I taught ye?”
Wren nodded eagerly.
