Morganna (The Brocade Collection, Book 4) by Jackie Ivie

uss with the front of her kilt as she rejoined him, although she had to ignore his smile. She had worse things to worry over. This Lacy likes to use her hands? What does that mean? she wondered.
    The croft was not large, but everything about the MacPhee lasses was. Zander called them a bit stodgy? They looked capable of competing with the cows for girth. There were four of them, too. Four lasses that each outweighed Zander. They had favorable faces, though. On that, he hadn’t lied. They looked like competing copies from the same mold, although the fat of their bodies detracted from the green slant of their eyes, the flaming red of their hair and the fact that they seemed to have all their teeth. She’d never consider them comely enough for a tumble, if she were really a lad and interested in such things.
    Zander probably hadn’t the same discrimination. She looked to him and caught his grin. ‘‘We’re going to pay for our breakfast now, boy. Prepare yourself.”
    “ Lasses!” Zander’s voice was loud and full of admiration as he hailed them, and tossed the deer carcass outside their front stoop. “I’ve come to repay your hospitality, and beg for more of the same.”
    They twittered at that, sounding like a gaggle of giggling geese. Morgan winced. She’d thought the way the hag acted was embarrassing.
    One stepped forward, linking her arms through Zander’s. “For you, Zander FitzHugh, I’ll fry the best scrambled skillet you’ve ever tasted. Come along. I’ve just the spot to set you.”
    “ Oh, Lace. I’ve barely recovered from the last you made for me. There’s not a cook to compete for leagues.”
    She giggled at that, and Morgan felt a little of her trepidation leave her. Zander had Lacy, then?
    “And who is this? Who have you brought to us, Zander?”
    It was asked as the other three ascended from the bowels of their croft to swarm about her. Morgan’s eyes were wide as she sought Zander, but the great oaf had already disappeared inside.
    “ What is your name?” one asked.
    “He’s terribly young.” One of them pinched her upper arm, and then immediately moved away, like it had been unintentional.
    “But he’s handsome. Very handsome. Or, he will be with some meat to him. What’s your name, boy?”
    Morgan stumbled forward as what had to be fingers fondled her backside. “M or...gan,” she stammered, and then had to endure a frontal assault, as she was pulled her into a very large bosom, and then let go before she could react.
    “He’s a bit thin. Come laddie, we’ve a hankering to see you well-fed and satisfied.”
    “Very satisfied,” another whispered.
    Morgan gasped, and then she was running, easily beating them to their croft. She stumbled down the three steps into it. Peat smoke blinded her for a moment, and then her mouth fell open at where the woman named Lacy had her hands. The woman had more breast than Morgan had ever seen, and Zander wasn’t immune to holding to one. He also was enjoying Lacy’s hands on the upward tilt of his kilt from his lap.
    And I thought him large last eve, was her first thought. Then she was propelled forward by another of the girls, forcing her into Lacy, who side-stepped. Morgan slid right atop Zander’s lap, taking the brunt of him in her belly. Stunned shock was what kept her immobile before she reacted, jumping to her feet like a reaver caught in the act. Then, she was backing into a wall, keeping her eyes anywhere but at him, or any of them. She knew her face was flaming.
    “Behave yourself, Zander. My sisters are about ,” Lacy demurred.
    “Aye, forgive me lassie. It’s just the sight of your fair face, coupled with the delights of your frame, make me dizzy. I’m just a weak man, darlin’.”
    He was arranging his kilt, flattening the lump of him as he said it, while Lacy put her bodice back in place. Morgan didn’t say a word as they rearranged their clothing. The room seemed to fill with twittering, giggling girls, all vying for