Page 22 of An Allusive Love
“Ye’re a saint, Ma,” called Brodie as he descended the ladder and kissed her on the cheek. She handed him a mug of water, which he promptly poured over his head. The cool liquid streamed down his face and back, then trickled under his kilt. He leaned over and shook his hair, spraying everything and everyone within his vicinity.
“Ye’ve been doing that since ye were a lad.” Glynnis laughed.
“He’s got the manners of Da’s hound,” groused Ian, coming from the other side of the cottage. He stood next to Brodie, a taller and leaner version of his younger brother.
“Speaking of beasties,” Brodie mused, “didn’t I hear Brownie’s howl earlier?” Their oldest brother’s deerhound had put up quite a fuss when Lachlan left her behind. His mother said the hound’s wails had been unbearable. She’d slept in Brigid’s room the first night and had not left the girl’s side since.
“I’ll take a cup, too, please. I’m parched.” Ian tipped back his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he finished off the water in one long drink. “Aye, that was Brownie. Brigid tried to leave her here and go down to the stream for more water, but the yowls began. If only Lachlan could find a woman as devoted as his canine.”
Brodie laughed. “I dinna see that happening in the near future.”
“Perhaps no’ in Lachlan’s future.” Ian wiggled his dark brows. “But I hear there’s been a wee romance blooming with our Kirsty.”
Brodie thanked the sun for already turning his face red. He opened his mouth to make a clever retort, but his sister yelled from the edge of the wood.
Brownie loped in front, Brigid trailing behind with a long thin branch bowed across her shoulders and two buckets balanced on either end. Strands of auburn locks had fallen from her bun, streaked red by the afternoon light as she trudged across the grass. Water sloshed over the sides, and Brodie could hear Brigid’s mumbled curse.
“Brigid Mary!” yelled Glynnis, putting her hands over the younger MacDougal’s ears. “I canna believe ye’d eat with the same mouth.”
Little Liam pulled the older woman’s hands away. “Och, ma’am, I’ve heard worse from my da.”
All eyes turned to MacDougal, who had just finished a drink and wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve. “Son, be still. The ladies will assume we have no decorum.”
“But Da, when the hen got yer finger yesterday, ye called her a worthless piece of fe—”
“Go help Miss Brigid with those buckets. They look a wee heavy for the poor lass.” MacDougal stared at his cup, then peeked up at Glynnis. “My apologies to the lady present.”
“Och, none needed,” she said with a smile. “Two men alone have no reason to guard their tongue. I think ye’re doing a fine job with the boy.”
“I appreciate that, ma’am. And thank ye again for yer help with him this week while we worked.” He nodded at Glynnis, and she smiled in return, her eyes crinkling with pleasure.
Brodie watched the exchange between the two of them. For a moment, his mother looked years younger. Then Liam shouted, catching the attention of all the adults.
The boy jumped and tried to tap one of the buckets. It teetered for a moment, splashing the excited child. He squealed and jumped again, ignoring Brigid’s thunderous words of caution and the vigorous shake of her head. On the second try, his fingers hooked the top of the bucket. Brigid tried to pull down on the opposite side of the stick to balance the weight of both boy and pail, but the first bucket slid off. The group froze, mouths open, as the second pail slid down the pole and dumped its contents over Brigid. She gasped, tripped, and stumbled forward, taking Liam down with her.
Sprawled out on the grass with a pole on top of her back, a boy doubled over with laughter next to her, and a hound licking at her face, Brigid let out a torrent of unintelligible words. Brodie clamped his mouth shut, holding back his guffaws as he locked eyes with his little sister. Och, it was good that boy wasn’t related to her, or she’d have a piece of his hide.
Liam looked back at the group and waved at Glynnis. “Not to worry, ma’am. Still nothing I’ve no’ heard before.”
Chapter Eight
The Courtship Commences
Kirstine heard thehappy shriek of a child, followed by loud female cursing. She cringed, recognizing Brigid’s voice, and wondered what kind of mischief the young MacDougal had caused. When she came out of the wood, giggles bubbled up her throat.
Brigid lay flat on the grass, her skirts hitched above her ankle. A long, crooked branch trapped her and Liam to the ground. The older needed to be rescued. The younger was having a tremendous time laughing and poking at the victim next to him. Brownie hunched over both of them, licking one face and then another. Two buckets were scattered on either side, and as Kirstine drew closer, she could see they once held water. Much of the liquid now appeared to be worn by the two struggling bodies trapped beneath the furry hound.
A group from the cottage ran to help, but the three MacNaughtons stopped short and leaned on each other while they clutched their bellies. Snorts and cackles filled the air. A cautious MacDougal braved the ire of Brigid and extricated her from the pole, the dog, and the boy.
“Saints and sinners,” grumbled Brigid. “Does the entire glen need to witness my downfall?”
Glynnis rolled her eyes. “Only yer pride is hurt, lass. And the sun will dry those clothes in the blink of an eye.” She narrowed her eyes at the youth. “As far as ye’re concerned, Mr. MacDougal, I’m fairly certain ye’ll no’ be laughing soon enough.”
The boy looked up at his father, then back at Glynnis. His eyes grew wide as he realizedhewas the Mr. MacDougal is question, not his father. With his hands clasped behind his back and a whistle on his lips, he took one step back. As he turned on his heel, Liam caught the boy by his collar and pulled him up. Bare feet kicked at the air and his high-pitched yelp sent Brownie into a howling frenzy.
“I believe it’s time to take our leave before ye create another catastrophe.” MacDougal set his son down. “Now apologize to the lady, and the rest of the group, for yer mischief. And we’ll finish this conversation at home.”
Liam hung his head, toes digging into the grass, and mumbled, “I’m verra sorry, Miss Brigid. I didna mean to cause ye to fall.”
