Page 47 of An Allusive Love
“Ye felt sorry for me?” Kirstine planted her fists on her hips and blinked back angry tears. Oh, how she wanted to skelp the man.
“Ye looked so pitiful. The tears… and trying to be brave. I just wanted to make ye happy.”
Without thought, her hand came up and slapped his face. Her palm stung; his eyes flashed shock, then ire as he rubbed his cheek.
“I’ll no’ accept a proposal out of pity. There are plenty of men who would be happy to take me as a wife and mother of their children.” Her voice wavered, and she whistled for Charlie. “Consider yerself free.”
“Wait, Kirsty. We need to settle this.”
“Brodie, I’ve waited a lifetime for ye.” She shook her head, needing to get away, to run as far and as fast as she could. “I accepted the selfishness and understood yer reluctance to marry before yer eldest brother. But I have my pride, too, Brodie MacNaughton. Save yer benevolence for a female who’s happy to settle for it.”
“There’s a dozen I could call on right now.” He folded his arms across his chest.
She whistled for Charlie, and turned to leave, refusing to let Brodie see her tears.
“If ye think so poorly of me, I wonder why ye wanted to marry me at all,” he growled, still rubbing the imprint of her hand on his face.
“Because I love ye, faults and all,” she whispered. “And I assumed ye felt the same.”
“Dinna walk away, then want to make up later.” He yelled as she followed her hound down the hill. “I’ll no’ be here moping for ye.”
What just happened? Kirstine had never planned on breaking off the betrothal. She’d only wanted Brodie to admit to his part in the sibling rivalry and apologize. Her temper had gotten the better of her. It wasn’t like her to spout off like Brigid. Kirstine had always been calm in the face of conflict or during an emergency, and yet, he’d set her off so easily. Why? Perhaps her trust in Brodie was fragile when it came to his affections? Or maybe she was tired of always being so understanding.
His comment about feeling sorry for her had hit a nerve, and the slap had been spontaneous. It had taken them both aback. Now it was too late, too late to take back the hurtful words, too late for apologies. Brodie was stubborn. It would be a long while before he’d listen to any explanation she cared to give, and his ego would never allow him to apologize. Oh, if only he would.
As soon as she was out of sight, Kirstine picked up her skirts and ran across the meadow, away from Brodie, away from her lost dreams. If only she could have left her broken heart in the pines.
*
“Women are themost irritating, confusing, pain-in-the-arse creatures the Good Lord ever put on this earth.” Brodie paced up and down the dining room. Glynnis sat quietly, her needle poking through the linen as the thread silently moved through to the other side.
“What did ye do, son?”
He stopped and turned on his heel, agitation churning in his gut. “Why does everyone always assumeI’mat fault?” He began pacing again. “She believes I’m arrogant and selfish.”
“Aye, right.”
“Ye’re my mother. Could ye show me a wee sympathy here? I’ve just lost my bride.”
“Ye ken where to find her.” His mother never looked up from her sewing.
Calum sauntered in. “Sounds like there’s heart trouble here, and it’s no’ mine.” He thumped his chest. “Strong as ever, I am.”
“Grandda, tell Ma this isna my fault.”
“I canna do it.” He walked to a side table and poured a short glass of whisky and held up it up, a brow arched his bright blue eyes.
“Aye, might as well,” Brodie groused. “Any words of wisdom ye’d care to impart?”
Calum snorted. “My wife wasna willing at first either. She left me a letter, freeing me from our betrothal.”
Brodie plunked down on a chair beside his grandfather. “I never kent that.”
“I had to go after her. On Hogmanay, no less.” He tossed back the whiskey and ran a hand through his gray-streaked raven hair. “Another wee swallow?”
Brodie finished his own and slammed down the glass for a second drink. “How did ye convince her?”
“Made it easier to agree than to keep saying no.”
