Stop it.
Aye, being aroused and depressed at the same time shouldn’t be possible.
“So, do ye want to talk about it?” Nicola prodded gently.
“‘Tis a rather damp sensation,” Robena mumbled.
“What?”
Robena’s head jerked up. “What?”
Her sister raised a brow. “I asked if ye wanted to talk about it.”
Feeling a flush working its way up her neck, Robena bent back over the harp. “Talk about what?” She tried to sound nonchalant.
And knew it didn’t work when her older sister tsked.
“Talk about whatever had ye looking so upset earlier? Is it….” She hesitated. “I heard the MacBains will be moving on tomorrow.”
“Aye.” Robena shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “Laird MacBain received instructions from the King. They’re heading to the Highland Games.”
It is time you marry Lady Elspeth Murray and end this feud.
Kester was betrothed.
He’d been betrothed all this time. That was what the “further delay” part of the letter had referenced. Most of the Highlands knew the MacBains were feuding with the Murrays, and apparently the King had demanded a marriage alliance in order to end the fighting.
Kester MacBain was betrothed to the Murray’s daughter, and he’d still kissed her.
To be fair, ye didnae really give him any choice, what with the way ye threw yerself at him. Mayhap ‘tis why he resisted so long; and he did say he couldnae marry ye.
Great.
Now her subconscious was ganging up with her libido.
With a sigh, she dropped her forehead against her harp.
“I’ll take that as a nay, ye dinnae want to talk about it,” Nicola said drily. “Although I’ll assume whatever has ye so upset is why ye’re now calling Laird MacBain—whom ye’ve been calling Kester for weeks and sighing happily over—by his title.”
“I have no’,” mumbled Robena, her left index finger plucking the same note over and over.
“Aye, ye have!” Her sister sounded ungodly cheerful, among the clink of her potions. “No’ just sighing, but humming too.”
“I’m a musician.”
“And I found the parchment where ye wrote Lady Robena MacBain over and over again with flowers and hearts around it. Although why someone would want to draw a bodily organ is beyond me.”
Shite.
Groaning, Robena began to knock her head against the wooden frame of her harp.
Older sisters were the absolute worst, weren’t they?
Nicola was silent long enough that Robena peeked up, wondering if she’d finally been left alone. But her sister was just focused on her measuring and mixing.
After a long while, the healer said, “Kester’s leaving for the Highland Games, eh?”
“Laird MacBain has made it verra clear his future includes a trip away from Oliphant land. Without me. His future doesnae involve me.”