Page 32 of An Allusive Love
Kirstine considered Brigid’s demeanor as she watched the duo disappear over a hill. Her hand absently scratched behind Charlie’s ears. “What’s her secret, eh?”
Had Brodie confided in his sister? Was he gathering his courage? Her heart pounded at the image of Brodie on one knee, asking her to be his forever. She clutched her stomach to stop the wings suddenly in flight. Her mother’s words came back to her.
If he hasna made his intentions clear by the end of the summer, ye need to put him behind ye.
But he would. Brigid wanted to reassure her, hint that all would end well. She threw her hands in the air and spun around, yelling to the charred beams overhead.
“For the love of saints and Brodie MacNaughton!”
Her dream was coming true.
Chapter Eleven
Teasing, Taunts, and Troths
Late July 1819
Brodie gave himselfa mental pat on the back and rolled to his side, watching the dawn break through his open chamber window. He’d made good progress in their courtship. When he paid attention, he realized how easily he could take over a conversation. He didn’t mean to, but something Kirstine said would remind him of an event or opinion, and he’d share it. Lately, he’d ask her a question and bite the inside of his tongue to remind himself to let her speak. His reward had been a treasure of information.
Kirsty’s favorite color was blue, like his eyes. She loved any kind of berry, but especially the early strawberries of June. When she wore her everyday clothes, her manner was matter-of-fact. The Kirsty he’d always known. When she dressed in her London fashions, her attitude was saucier. Flirtatious. In her role as healer, he’d seen her tend to an old woman’s fever and set the broken arm of a rambunctious village lad. Her manner had been gentle yet firm, efficiency mixed with compassion. He marveled at the many facets of this childhood friend who had grown into such an accomplished woman.
Yet her kisses were always the same, regardless of her attire or mood or task at hand.
Kirsty’s plump lips smiled at him from behind his lids. Last night had been particularly heated. Under the moon, his plaid spread over the soft meadow grass, he’d come close to losing control. She’d been so soft, so willing, sohis.
He rolled back flat, again, and chuckled at the tented bedsheet. If just the image of her pliant body affected him this way, he would lose his mind when they finally bedded.
Each time they were together, he discovered some new tidbit or a nuance in her tone he hadn’t heard before. He had come to love her in an entirely different way, feelings that were strange and wonderful at the same time. The vague yearning, forwhathe’d never been quite sure, had vanished. Passion and a joyful anticipation now filled that empty corner of his heart. It was a heady feeling, this being in love. It blended well with his natural exuberance.
After three months, he had no desire to look at another woman. The sight of Kirsty walking toward him across a meadow, or gazing up at him with those chocolate orbs, still made his pulse race and his member stiffen with desire. Instead of dampening, his need grew. Every day. The possibility of losing her sent him into a panic. Another man touching her made him berserk.
Thump! Thump!
“Are ye awake? The day is wasting, ye bumblehead. I have a pony waiting for me in Dunderave.”
“Aye, ye blethering female. I’ll be down shortly.”
*
Brigid chattered theentire ride to Dunderave, riding behind Lachlan so she could ride her new purchase home. Brodie took mental note of where herds of sheep and cattle grazed. They stopped at a stream to let the horses drink and take a brief respite. It was a favorite watering hole for the family when they visited the village. A picturesque dell surrounded by lush pasture and a backdrop of snow-capped gray and green mountains dotted with pine.
It was a braw day, the sun glinting silver on the rushing water. They dismounted and Brigid promptly peeled off her shoes and stockings. Lachlan laughed as she wiggled her toes in the creek’s grassy edge. Brodie offered salted beef to his siblings, but Lachlan was still full from breakfast and his sister was too excited to eat. Instead, she wandered onto the moss-covered stones that dotted the brook and dipped her toes in the cool water.
“Careful,” called Lachlan. “I’ll no’ have a sopping rider behind me. If ye fall, ye’ll ride with yer crabbit brother.”
“I’m in a fine temper,” argued Brodie.
“Not after ye pay for that pony.”
Brigid snorted, slipped, and caught her balance with both arms spread wide. Her striped pale-yellow skirt dragged across the stone, the hem wet and stained green. She reached behind her and wrapped her copper curls in a knot, fanning her neck.
“It’s warmer than I thought,” she said. “I’ll go barefoot until we get closer to the village.”
“Heathen,” teased Lachlan.
“Harlot,” added Brodie.
They reached the village by early afternoon. Dry stone buildings and thatched cottages lined the main street. At one end was a blacksmith and small dry goods and specialty store, at the other was thekirkwhere Reverend Robertson held Sunday services.
