Page 11 of Scot of Desire
Bran nodded slowly. Both his family and Tad’s had lost their parents, Tad’s only recently, to sickness, while Bran had lost his father in battle some years ago. It cast a dark shadow over both families, though they did their best to carry on as if the shadow was not there.
“I’m just determined tae enjoy meself sometimes,” Tad carried on, raising the tankard to his lips. “I willnae live life forever in darkness.”
Says the man who may have tae give his sister in marriage tae a man she doesnae ken.
Bran took a swig from the whisky, keeping his thoughts to himself. He knew well enough that this situation was not of Tad’s making, though he couldn’t help his feeling of resentment.
Tad had come across his grandfather’s contract in his study one day, shortly after Laird Gilroy had written to him, declaring it was time for said contract to be fulfilled. His son, Cillian, shouldbe married to Ilyssa. Tad had insisted again and again that the contract had not been in that study before.
I want tae believe him, but dae I?
Bran had once seen the study shortly after his father had died. His father had not been a tidy man so Bran could easily see how it would be possible for a single paper to get lost in that room.
“Ah, now I see some distraction,” Tad whispered behind the rim of his tankard with a mischievous smile. His eyes were set on someone in the crowd.
Bran turned to see a bar maid walking toward them. She was serving another man, her flowing red hair wild about her shoulders, but her freckled face was turned most determinedly in Tad’s direction.
“Ye catch them as a frog does flies.” Bran sighed and looked away again, sipping his whisky.
“A pleasant image,” Tad said with a chuckle. “Dinnae wait fer me, me friend.”
“I had nay intention tae,” Bran laughed as Tad walked away to talk to the barmaid.
Bran gulped his whisky, eager to leave now that he had done his duty as Tad’s friend. He would go back to the tavern, maybeknock on Ilyssa’s and Catreena’s door, just to check they were both well.
The thought of Ilyssa made his heart race again.
I have tae stop this.
He turned to place his tankard down on the bar, but someone stood in the way.
It was a young lass. Her soft brown hair, almost honey in color, was fastened back in a pleasant updo. The scents of bergamot wafted off her, and her eyes glistened like green gems as she stared up at him.
“Evening,” she said loudly to be heard over the hubbub in the room. “What’s yer name, stranger?”
Bran had no intention of giving her his name.
“Ah, the strong and silent type, are ye?”
Still, he did not answer her. As far as he was concerned, she was in the way, making it more difficult for him to put his tankard down and get out of here. He tried to step to the side, to put the tankard down, but she moved in the way. He stepped back, clearing his throat, making it clear, though subtly, that she was impeding him.
“Share a drink with me?” she asked.
He supposed she was pretty. Her nose was slanted, but not like Ilyssa’s. Her hair was fair enough, but it missed the luscious darkness that Ilyssa’s locks had. She also missed the fullness of Ilyssa’s lips.
“Well?” she asked, a hint of impatience in her tone now.
“Nay, thank ye.” He stepped around her again and placed his tankard on the bar. When he turned back to make his escape, she was still in the way, only this time, she was even closer. She practically brushed their hips together as she stood before him.
Any tightening that was in his gut was out of anger, not attraction.
She looked up at him with the cover of her eyelashes, probably thinking it was a coy look rather brazen.
Ilyssa would never look at me like that.
“Buy me a drink and maybe I’ll share more than just a drink with ye?”
Bran felt as if he had been struck by lightning. He glowered at the girl before him, realizing suddenly why he was constantly comparing her to Ilyssa, why he could not stop thinking about her, why the mere thought of Ilyssa not only marrying Cillian Grant, but any man, upset him so much.
