Page 17 of An Allusive Love
“There’s my grandson,” declared Calum. “I have a question for ye.”
He followed his grandfather away from the raucous group of men passing around flasks of whisky. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
Calum shook his head. “Mairi’s father asked about ye. She seems quite smitten. He hinted he would approve of a match between the two of ye if we were so inclined.” His grandfather held up a hand. “I dinna want any problems with the family. They all work with us, so try to keep yer—”
“Mairi’s a bonny lass,” Brodie interrupted, “but something peculiar has happened since I’ve been back. I believe my affection has found a permanent home.”
“And who might it be this time?”
“This time?”
“Aye, ye’re Cupid’s favorite target. I dinna have enough fingers to count how many lasses ye’ve fancied since ye were fifteen. A dozen cases of calf-love, at least.” His grandfather grinned, but his next words were serious. “Hence, my concern with yer intentions toward Mairi.”
Brodie snorted. “This is different. It’s unexpected but feels right… and true.”
Calum guffawed. “I’ve heard this before, but go ahead and surprise me. Who has stolen yer heartthissummer?”
“Kirsty.”
Calum was silent for a moment, then slapped Brodie on the back, sending him forward. “I kent it! I told yer grandmother, I said, ‘Peigi, if that lad had a crumb of sense, he’d see she’s wearing her heart on her sleeve.’ We’re both fond of the lass.”
“Weel, since I have yer approval.” He gave Calum a thump in return. “I’ll join ye in a wee swallow.”
After the festivities,Brodie rode behind the wagon, his belly full and his heart light. The leather saddle creaked beneath him as he leaned back to take in the beauty above him. The sky was a shimmery black, the stars winking at him as if they were in on his secret. Love always filled him with optimism. The anticipation of the next meeting, stolen glances and kisses, an unexpected touch that sent the heart racing and heat surging through the veins. It was unpredictable and spontaneous. The notion of being in love with Kirstine made him hard with desire. He began humming, softly at first, and then louder as his momentum grew. A verse bubbled out, and his deep voice hung on the still night air.
Like dew on the gowanlying,
Is the fall o’ her fairyfeet,
And like the winds in summersighing,
Her voice is low andsweet.
Her voice is low andsweet,
And she’s all the world tome…
Brigid pulled back on her reins and sidled her pony next to his. “I see ye’re in fine spirits again. I’m glad she finally told ye, regardless of what happens in the future.”
“Finally? How long have ye kent she had feelings for me?” His grandfather had also seemed wise to Kirstine’s affection. Had he been the last to know?
“Och, brother, anyone with eyes could see she’s been dangling on ye.”
“Except me.”
“Ye didna look. Kirsty always makes it aboutye, and ye always let her. When was the last time ye noticed if she was Friday-faced or worried? That’s right, she always puts on a smile for ye.” Brigid wagged a finger at him. “Ye best no’ break her heart in a month or two, or I’ll come after ye myself.”
Brodie guffawed. “I could take on my own sister.”
“I’m just warning ye. She’s one of the few females who understands me. One of the few that I call friend.” Brigid gave her pony a nudge and trotted ahead to the wagon to ride beside their mother and grandmother.
The devil take him, his own sister raising a breeze about him and Kirstine. He pondered her words and his earlier conversation with Calum. Sure, he’d courted a few of the villagers. He’d never made any promises, told any bouncers to lead them on. In fact, his intentions had been pure each time that familiar surge filled his chest. He couldn’t help it if the luster dulled after a month or so.
Brodie had always prided himself on remaining a gentleman. When they came to him a virgin, he left them intact. Perhaps the kisses became heated, but then, he wasn’t a saint. Did Kirstine have the same opinion of him as Brigid? Did she worry his affection wouldn’t last? Their kisshadbeen different. More powerful, more urgent than any he’d known before. Yet, unease chafed at his joy, a whispered warning he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Perhaps his family was right. Was he fickle? Self-centered? The revelation slapped him in the face. Yet, he was well-liked within the clans. A favorite, most said.
He remembered his mother’s frequent scolding from childhood.
