Page 18 of Priceless
The Blossom and the Bee…
He wasnae the handsomest lad in the room. Nor was he the youngest or the one turnin’ the most heads. He was just himself—Brodie, a Highlander who’d died at Culloden in 1746, a ghost for 271 years until a wee witch named Soncerae brought him back to life, for reasons of her own. A man with no future, no true place in this world, livin’ on borrowed time. Yet, when he clapped eyes onJenny, the world stopped spinnin’.
She wasnae meant for him. Jenny was promised to another, a surgeon from Boston whose life was tidy and polished, far from the wilds o’ Scotland. She came home to Inverness for a wee visit and to mind her roots afore headin’ back to her carefully mapped future.
But then Fate—clumsy, glorious Fate—brought Brodie and Jenny together in the most ordinary way.
She stepped out of her father’s shop, her mind on her comin’ weddin’ and the dress she couldnae stand. He stood there on the pavement, stiff as a soldier, his to-do list in hand. She walked square into him.
And he fainted.
Not ‘cause she was bonnie—though she was. But ‘cause there was blood on her shoes. And he couldnae bear the sight o’ it, a weakness that’d cost him his life at the Battle of Culloden long ago.
She knelt down, calm as ye like, and checked his pulse. He woke to her touch. She smiled. And though he was mortified, he’d already etched the curve o’ her cheek, the softness o’ her voice, into his heart.
He told himself it was just a moment, one that’d never come again. She was out o’ his league, out o’ his world. Worse yet, she was betrothed.
But that night, he spoke to his mate. Over a quiet dram, the man grinned and said, “Lad, ye cannae chase a lass like her. Be the blossom, steady and true, and let her come to ye like a bee to nectar.” Brodie chuckled, but the words stuck, gave him hope.
The next day, he went back to the shop. And there she was, smilin’ at him, teasin’ him gently about his faintin’ spell. In that wee moment, his mate’s advice rang in his ears—be the blossom—and he found the nerve to ask her to his birthday feast.
She said aye.
She didnae ask why. She didnae need to.
Jenny wore a simple navy dress the night he fetched her. He’d swapped his kilt for dark trousers, tryin’—and failin’—to look modern for her. He kissed her hand like a man from another time, and she laughed softly but didnae pull away.
They rode through the quiet lanes, not sayin’ much. She hummed under her breath, and he thought she sounded like a wee bee—soft, content, curious.
Be the blossom, and let the bee come to ye.
He held his tongue. He just listened.
When they reached the ranch where the party was held, the gates opened to a world she hadnae expected. A place of theold Highland warmth, filled with folk who treated her like she belonged.
And for one evenin’, she did.
They sang for his birthday. They shared food and laughter. They learned more about each other. She sat by him near the fire, wrapped in a tartan shawl someone handed her, but it was his gaze that warmed her. They had no ken that, as they sat in the glow of the flames, their souls began netting themselves together in knots that wouldnae be undone…
When it was time to go, he was that Highlander of old once again and swept her off her feet to place her inside the truck. But she didn’t think him boorish. Instead, she thought it a romantic consideration her fiancé could never fathom.
He drove her home slow, hopin’ the night would never end. At her door, her brother glowered from the window. Brodie kissed her anyway. Soft and sweet.
She didnae pull away.
It should’ve ended there.
But the next mornin’, Fate struck again—this time cruelly.
Brodie was out on the water with mates, helpin’ with a catch, when the boat rocked. A wave slammed him into a metal mast. He went down hard, chest crushed, lungs fillin’ with air he couldnae release.
And Jenny was there.
She’d been on her da’s boat nearby and saw it all. She leapt across the gap, her surgeon’s bag in hand, and saved him with her own two hands. She pressed a makeshift tube into his chest so he could breathe. And she stayed with him all the way to the hospital, her voice the last thing he heard afore darkness took him.
When he woke, she was at his bedside.
She didnae leave. Not for a day. Not for a week. Not even when her fiancé flew across the ocean to fetch her home.
