Page 48 of An Allusive Love
“I’ll no’ make a fool of myself, chasing after a fickle woman.” He scowled at his mother’s bent head, and the smirk she didn’t try to hide.
“Look who’s calling someone fickle,” she murmured.
His grandfather chuckled. “This has nothing to do with pride. It’s about proving yer unswerving loyalty and having the mettle to do whatever it takes to make matters right. It’s about being the kind of mon the clan would someday accept for their chief. A leader with an unshakeable foundation who looks to hearth and home. Ye canna understand a mon’s need to protect his wife and children if ye dinna have any yerself.” Calum stood and stretched, letting out a loud yawn. “But mayhap ye and Lachlan have changed yer minds about that plan.”
Brodie opened his mouth to argue but caught his mother’s eye. “What?”
“He’s right. We all ken ye love her. That’s the easy part of commitment.” Glynnis sighed and put down her needlework. “She’s stood by ye, and put up with yer selfish ways, since ye were both children. She’s loved ye and waited for ye to become the man we all kent ye could be. And in yer gratitude, ye’ll let yer pride get in the way of a lifetime of happiness.”
His gut twisted. They were right. They were all right. The wager had been childish. Brodie had only recently realized what had been under his nose all the time. A future without Kirsty wasn’t a possibility.
“What should I do?” he asked. “I’ve made a mess of it, I’m afraid.”
“Ye do just what yer grandda said. Ye wear her down with thoughtfulness and court her until she canna stand it any longer. Make it easier for her to say yes than to keep turning ye down.” Glynnis smiled and leaned over to pat his cheek. “Things have always been too easy for ye.”
“What if she willna give me the chance?” Had he gone too far? The game of Spillikins came to mind. Was this the one stick that sent pile toppling?
“She loves ye, son. Just put a little effort into it, let her ken she’s worth it.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sorry Is As Sorry Does
The next day
Kirstine’s mouth droppedopen. “Mrs. MacNaughton, ye’re the last person I would expect at my door.”
Glynnis smiled. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” She stepped aside. The older woman swept in, her gold-pinstriped, umber skirt swishing against the doorframe. Her auburn hair was swept up in a tidy bun, and the MacNaughton blue eyes held sympathy. Not pity. There was a difference.
“I assume ye’ve heard?” Kirstine asked, chewing on her bottom lip. “Can I get ye some tea?”
Glynnis nodded and sat down at the kitchen table. “Is yer mother here?”
“I am,” answered Mrs. MacDunn from the back of the cottage. She emerged, tucking a stray brown strand under her kertch, a basket over her arm. “Have ye come for the oils, then?”
“Aye, it’s one reason.”
“And the other?”
“I’d like to speak with Kirstine,” admitted Glynnis. “And ye’re welcome to listen and advise.”
“I’ll put the kettle on.”
Kirstine tamped down her nerves and forced her hands to lie still in her lap. “I hear yer sister is visiting?”
Mrs. MacNaughton grinned. “Maeve hasna been home since she married. Her English earl didna care for the Highlands, so we always met at the textile mill in Glasgow. It’s the first time my nephew, Gideon, has seen the castle. Scotland has been quite an adjustment for him.” She reached out and caught Kirstine’s hand. “Now, we need to talk about my numpty-headed son.”
To Kirstine’s surprise, her mother took neither side. “Sounds as if they backed each other into a corner and couldna find a way out.”
“But Brodie loves ye and will be asking yer forgiveness,” added Glynnis.
Kirstine’s heart leapt. Could they mend this rift? The argument had escalated so quickly. She’d gone over it a hundred times in her mind since yesterday.
“…And I’m here to be certain ye make him work for it.”
Her mind snapped back at those words. “How?”
