Page 1 of A Plaid Case of Loving Ye
Chapter 1
The conventof St. Dorcas the Ever Petulant sat on a barren rock in the middle of the loch, looming forebodingly and mysteriously and, above all, bloody difficult to get to.
“Does it look a little…strangeto ye?” Nicola Oliphant asked, her head cocked to one side as her horse sidestepped impatiently.
Her older sister shifted comfortably in her saddle, and instead of looking at the nunnery, kept her attention on the people of the little village which perched along the shores of the loch.
“No’ really,” Coira replied, in that no-nonsense way of hers. “Just difficult to get to.”
“That’s what I meant.”
Finally, Coira gave the distant tower the attention it deserved. “’Tis impregnable.”
“They’re nuns.” Nicola hid her smile. “I shouldhopethey’re impregnable.”
Her sister rolled her eyes. “I meant the castle. ‘Twas obviously a castle once, aye? Mayhap some laird left it to the nuns in penance or some such. All I ken is I wouldnae want to lead the force who had to attack that thing.”
Coira Oliphant was the oldest of the laird’s six daughters, and everyone who knew the Oliphants—although they were quite a few days’ journey from home on this adventure—knew the laird wasn’t the sharpest lance at the joust, and therefore his eldest managed most of the clan’s affairs. Anyone who knew thempersonallyknew that Coira—in her braies and tunic and a sword strapped to her waist—would absolutely be capable of commanding the force to attack a castle. Even one in the middle of a loch.
When Nicola shook her head, her horse side-stepped again. “I wouldnae want to lead the force which had to get food and supplies out there each sennight!”
“Mayhap the nuns plant food?”
“In a tower castle on a rock?” Nicola shook her head again, then took pity on her horse and clucked the poor thing into motion. “There’d be nae room. Come, let us determine how guests of the non-attacking variety gain entrance.”
Coira might be the leader of the Oliphant sisters—and the one who was angriest about Da’s ultimatum—but Nicola was the healer and she had a job to do. One which involved getting out to the nunnery sometime this year.
Eventually, they found a chatty woman in the marketplace who directed them and the four Oliphant warriors who rode with them down to the pier. Well, theycalledit a pier, but ‘twas a series of pilings in the water to which a series of increasingly dilapidated boats were tied.
Coira snorted. “Well.” She hooked her thumbs in her belt and rocked back on her heels. “I have nae worries about leaving ye in that fortress...but I cannae guarantee yer safety if ye insist on traveling in one ofthose.”
Nicola was busy untying all her bundles and satchels, handing them to the youngest of their escort to deposit into one of the rowboats. “Shh! If ye anger the fishermen with yer insults, they’ll likely drop me overboard on the way out to the nunnery.”
“If they do, they’ll have to contend with me. I promised Mother I’d get ye here safely.”
Nicola kept her attention on her task so she didn’t have to pretend to care what Mother thought.
The older woman had been distraught when she’d learned Nicola had accepted the invitation from the convent for a visit. Despite what she’d told her mother, Nicola didn’t particularlywantto take holy vows…she just wanted a month away from home.
A month away from Mother’s demands and Da’s mad schemes. Four of her younger sisters had married this summer and Nicola knew everyone was eying her next.
But as she’d told her mother, she didn’twantto marry; not because she liked the idea of becoming a Bride of Christ, but because she’d had enough of being at the beck and call of one person. Mother had treated her as her personal emotional-support-blanket for years, and Nicola was tired of it.
At the convent of St. Dorcas the Ever Petulant, she’d have people to heal, people who needed her. Aye, she fully expected to be pulled in many directions at once and was, in fact, looking forward to it. Anything was better than spending the rest of her life catering tooneperson.
“Good God, Nik, this weighs a ton.” Coira stood calf-deep in the water, helping load some of the bags. “Did ye bring a grindstone?”
Sniffing dismissively, Nicola tossed her sister another bag. “Of course, I did. I cannae trust the nuns to keep my scalpels sharp. And stop complaining. One would think ye’ve no’ spent each morning out in the yard practicing with the men.”
Her sister groaned theatrically as she stowed another bag. “Practicing with the men? Dinnae let Wyn or Robbie hear ye say that; they’ll think ye mean something else entirely.”
“Something involving cocks?” Nicola asked innocently.
The young warrior at their side made a choking sound, and Nicola shot him a smile as she hurried to clarify. “Chickens, I mean.”
“Aye, Nicola,” growled Coira. “Get in the boat.”
Pleased she’d managed to discompose her normally gruff sister out of her annoying habit of shortening everyone’s names, Nicola held up her skirts around her knees and grimaced as the water spilled over the tops of her leather shoes and seeped into the wool of her stockings.
