Page 19 of An Allusive Love
But he never actually said they were courting.
“I dinna want to crush yer joy, but Iwilllook out for my child. I’m happy for ye, truly. Only dinna forget how fickle the mon can be. I’d hate to see ye pass up a good offer because Brodie canna decide what he wants.” Her mother held up a hand when Kirstine opened her mouth to protest. “I have nothing against him. He’s a MacNaughton and to be respected. I just worry he will break yer heart if he is no’ serious in his affections.”
She nodded, pushing away the pinprick of anxiety in her chest. “We are meeting at the swimming falls later this afternoon. I’ll make sure we are of the same mind.”
It turned out she didn’t make a delivery to MacDougal’s. Several hours later, young Liam knocked at the door. His hands were behind his back, a red curl hanging in one eye. “I come to collect, if ye please.” He squinted up at her. He wiped his dirty hands on his homespun pants and offered one to her.
Kirstine accepted the handshake but doubted the boy had come by himself. “Did ye come alone?”
Liam slapped his knee and guffawed, and she wondered who he mimicked. “Me and Da are tied at the ankles, he says. We go everywhere together. He’s just a wee slower than me.”
“That’s a long rope binding yer ankles, then.” She peered around the doorway and saw MacDougal ambling up the lane. He waved, and she raised an arm in answer. “Ye should come in and have the last scone while ye wait.”
“Aye, it might take him a while. Da says to have patience with old folk,” he agreed with a serious face. “I dinna think I’d need so much for ye, Miss MacDunn. Ye’re too bonny to be old.” He wiggled onto the bench, his hands clasped on the wood table, waiting to be invited to eat.
“Ye have fine manners for no’ having a mother to raise ye,” Ma said from the hearth. “Go ahead, have that last bit and finish off the jam.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The boy’s hand swiped up the scone, dipped it into the jam, and shoved it into his mouth. Sticky red smeared his lips, and a loud smacking noise came from his end of the table as he grinned and munched at the same time.
“I’m afraid ye spoke too soon,” Kirstine said with a smirk.
“Liam, slow down or ye’ll choke,” said MacDougal from the doorway. His lanky form filled the doorway and blocked out the sun, turning his red hair a deep copper.
Kirstine had to admit, if it weren’t for Brodie and the widower’s gap in age, she’d be tempted. He was kind, handsome, and a good father.
“And close yer mouth when ye’re chewing, son. No one wants to see yer cud.” He held his cap in his hands and nodded at the women. “Please excuse Liam. We’re used to eating alone and dinna always worry about proprieties.”
“Nonsense, he’s a good lad,” disagreed her mother. “Are ye hungry? Or can I get ye some tea?”
He shook his head. “Och, no. We just left yer husband in the field and still have work at home. Perhaps another time?” His question may have been directed at Mrs. MacDunn but his pale green eyes were onMissMacDunn.
“Of course, of course.” The older woman handed him a burlap bag she’d filled with cheese and a small crock of butter. “Return the pot when it’s empty, and I’ll refill for ye.”
“Who’s feeling lucky?” Kirstine held up a small basket with the eggs she’d gathered earlier. She smiled as young Liam shook his head.
“Da says if there’s something to break, I’ll find my way to it,” he proclaimed cheerfully as he left the table, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He held out his chubby hand for the sack and tried to sling it over his shoulder.
“Easy there, lad.” MacDougal caught the burlap before a mishap occurred. “Ye’ll be covered in butter.” He tied a knot in the material and handed it back to his son.
“Sorry, Da,” he said without a hint of apology in his voice, clutching the parcel to his chest.
“Make yer polite goodbye, and we’ll be off.”
“Thank ye for the verra. Tasty.Tidbit.” Liam pronounced the words slowly then looked up at his father with a huge grin. “Did I say it right?”
“Aye, lad. Ye said it right.” MacDougal gave the women a crooked smile. “We’ve been reading at night, and he has to practice a new word every day.”
Kirstine’s heart went out to the two males fending for themselves. Men weren’t meant to be alone. Little boys weren’t meant to be without mothers. She’d speak with Brigid about the MacDougals. Perhaps they could find someone to help the pair with some cooking and housekeeping. In the meantime, Kirstine would see what she could do for them.
One problem solved, she quickly changed her clothes to meet Brodie. She called out to her mother that she’d be back in a couple hours and ignored the older woman’s snort as she skipped across the yard. After a quick stop in the drying shed, where the herbs and flowers were hung until ready, she noted what plants to keep an eye out for as she walked.
Never waste time, her grandmother had always told her,for ye never ken how much ye have. Kirsty still hadn’t decided whether that was good advice or a morbid warning. Grandmama had been full of both.
Puffs of white cluttered the pale sky and cast rolling shadows over the glen. Her eyes swept over the varied shades of green broken by the jutting rocks. She dashed across the meadow as Charlie loped ahead of her. He paused and sniffed the air, then tipped back his head and let out a long howl. She stopped at the top of the bluff. Brodie was spread out on the boulder they used for diving, his hose and boots cast to the side. His eyes were closed, hands behind his head, and knees up. The kilt rested against his muscular thighs and her eyes were drawn to the shadow between them. Heat spread up her neck at the image of what lay beneath the material.
“Ye beat me here,” she yelled to give him warning.
His eyes opened, but he didn’t move. A wicked grin curved his mouth. “I missed ye.”
