Page 2 of A Plaid Case of Loving Ye
They left their escort in the village after Coira assured the men—most of whom cheerfully deferred to her when their commander, Doughall, wasn’t around—that she could handle anything a bunch of nuns threw their way. The next few days sampling ales at the inn until Coira decided ’twas time to return home was likely a better draw than minding their manners at the nunnery.
The sisters sat in the stern of the boat as they were rowed out to the island.
Coira’s booted toe tapped impatiently and Nicola knew ‘twas because her sister hated inactivity. “How do the nuns get supplies?” she barked to the fisherman in front of them. “Dinnae tell me they ken how to fish!”
The man’s large back was to the pair, but he turned just enough to grin over his shoulder at Coira. “Does a woman’s arms stop working when she becomes a nun? She can still throw a fishing net, aye?” When Coira scoffed, the man chuckled. “My father’s father grew up in the village, back when auld Laird Gunn held the castle. When his son moved his seat west, the village just sort of became property of the convent. Depending on the Mother Superior, our lives are either peaceful or browbeaten.”
“There are that many nuns in the convent?” Nicola ventured.
The man snorted. “Nay, nae more than a handful. But they’re always switching who holds the title of Mother Superior, making it bloody difficult to remember whose turn ‘tis.”
The sisters exchanged a glance; Coira’s surprised and Nicola’s amused.
The convent of St. Dorcas the Ever Petulant was sounding stranger and stranger.
Mayhap the ideal place for a month’s escape.
There was a quay on the near side of the island, so Nicola and Coira were able to scramble out of the boat without getting any damper. The fisherman happily handed up the satchels of Nicola’s healing supplies, then waved as he shoved off once more.
“Coward,” muttered Coira.
But Nicola had already turned to the imposing barbican. ‘Twas indeed the entrance to a castle, or at least had been once. Now, the portcullis was rusted in the open position, the massive front gates looked as if they never closed, and a short, well-endowed woman was hurrying toward them. She was waving her arms, which—in the simple brown nun’s frock—made her look a bit like a bird of prey.
Nicola stepped back instinctively and only barely managed to keep from falling into the loch.
“Thank the Lord and St. Dorcas ye’re here!” puffed the small woman as she skidded to a stop on the quay. “Ye’re the Oliphant lass, aye? Ye sent word ye’d be here, and we’ve all been excited to welcome ye. Here, give me that one too!”
As she spoke, the woman—the nun—collected the bags and packages, hanging them from her shoulders and around her neck. Up close, Nicola could see that she wasn’t just well-endowed, she was…she was…well,remarkablywell-endowed.
The woman’s breasts were large enough ‘twas a miracle she didn’t just topple forward. In fact, when the nun placed one of Nicola’s satchelsatopthe shelf of her breasts, the healer held her breath, expecting just that.
But the nun was obviously quite used to navigating life with tits bigger than her head.Each onebigger than her head.
Ye’re staring.
Nicola blinked and turned away, knowing she couldn’t meet Coira’s eyes or she’d begin to giggle. “Aye.” Her voice emerged as a squeak, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Aye, I’m Lady Nicola. This is my sister, Lady Coira. She’s my escort.”
Coira, of course, was wearing a huge grin. “Pleased to meet ye.” Instead of bobbing a curtsey as she’d been trained, the eldest Oliphant lass pumped the nun’s arm, as if they were both men.
Nicola knew she was only doing it to test the nun’s balance.
The woman, for her part, reacted with enthusiasm. “Welcome to St. Dorcas! We’re thrilled to have ye both, although yer letter said ye’d be leaving us, Lady Coira?”
“Aye, I’m only here long enough to ensure Nik’s safe and sound.” Coira was still pumping her hand. “I suppose ye can ensure that?”
“I suppose I can!” The nun finally managed to extract her hand from Coira’s, and waved it about. Perhaps to restore blood flow. “I’m Mother Superior here.”
Well,thatcaused both Nicola and Coira to startle.
The shorter woman shrugged sheepishly. “It’s my turn this month.”
“This…month?” Nicola repeated.
“Aye, we rotate, ye see. To determine which of us fits the role better. I confess ‘tis no’ my favorite, but Iamrather good at making people—especially the men in the village--do what I want. I dinnae ken why.”
Coira, who was eyeing the woman’s jiggling breasts, muttered, “I can guess.”
“Otherwise, we lead a verra boring existence here at St. Dorcas. Praying, of course, and helping members of the village who need us. Playing chess, dressing, undressing, knitting exciting underwear. Oh, and we’ve invented pinocle.”
