Page 49 of An Allusive Love
“He’ll be wooing ye, and ye need to keep him at arm’s length. No kissing or namby-pamby. Let him yearn for ye. And when he asks ye to marry him again, tell him ye’re no’ quite ready. Perhaps the next time he asks.”
Kirstine bit her lip, her mouth quirking up at the corner. “That will tug at his temper.”
“I hope so. A mon should appreciate his wife, and my son has taken too much for granted in his easy life.”
“And ye’re sure he’ll ask again?”
“As the moon rises every night.” Glynnis patted Kirstine’s knee. “We’ll see all of ye at the cèilidh in two weeks? Maeve and Gideon have given us a grand excuse for a distraction.”
“We’ll be there,” answered Kirstine’s mother. “In fact, I suspect my daughter will be in a new dress. One of those fancy London styles.”
*
Late September
“Ye’re off toDunderave?” asked Brodie. “Do ye need me?”
“Ye have work to do,” Calum said with a wink. “Besides, it’s a social visit. Yer Aunt Maeve hasna seen the villagers in decades, and she wants to introduce Gideon. I’ll extend a personal invitation for the celebration next week.”
“My poor cousin will be surrounded with well-wishers. I tried to talk Gideon into wearing a kilt, but he’d have none of it.” Brodie laughed. “We’ll continue the onslaught, though.”
“How goes the courting?”
Brodie’s smile faded. “She’s pleasant enough but distant. If I could just kiss her, it would save time.”
“I dinna remember ye being in any hurry before.”
“Which is why I’m in this predicament now.”
After the family left, he cut some wood for Enid and exercised two of the young colts. Later in the afternoon, he began his daily mating ritual, as Grandda called it. He took a half-bath, shaved, and dressed in a clean shirt and his Sunday kilt, added fresh stockings with bright flashes to the sides. Then he saddled a horse and headed to the meadow to collect a posy for Kirsty.
A week of this ridiculous routine and he hadn’t even had a kiss for his effort. Kirsty had returned to her role of dear friend, but his body wasn’t accepting the change. Yesterday, they had sat together at the swimming loch, and he leaned down to kiss her. She had turned her head, and his lips grazed her cheek. He’d held his breath to stop the groan and wondered if he’d seen pity in her eyes.Pity!If Brodie didn’t know better, he’d swear she was enjoying his discomfort. But what really got his goat was she and Brigid were thick as thieves again.
Speak of the devil.Both women were in the yard singing, bent over a squat barrel, stirring the contents with two poles. Kirsty’s backside swayed back and forth as she moved the pole, and his kilt formed an instant tent.Like a hound on a scent, ye traitor,he thought, looking down at his lap.
A mental image of the old Widow Weir, naked, tamped down his desire as he quietly dismounted. He pulled a stale oatcake from his saddlebag andcluckedto Charlie before he threw the treat. The dog bounded down the land, so Brodie was free to sneak up on the sweet bottom beckoning him across the yard. The girls paid no mind as they belted out their tune. That Rabbie Burns could write of love as well as any female.
And fare thee weel, my onlyluve,
And fare thee weel awhile,
And I will come again, myluve,
Tho’ twere ten thousandmile!
Just as Brodie reached the pair, his hand pulled back for a wee randy slap, and Brigid turned.
“Saints and sinners!” she screeched, dropping her pole and clutching her chest. “Ye’re as quiet as a ghost.”
Kirsty turned, eyes narrowed at his arm frozen in mid-swing. “What were ye planning on doing?”
Blasted sister.“I was told ye were going to Dunderave with the rest of them,” asked Brodie. He could hear the irritation in his voice and gritted his teeth when Brigid gave him a smug smile.
“I’m helping Kirsty dye some cloth. Ma said there was no need for me to tag along and complain the entire day.”
“Weel, I can take over for ye.” Brodie peered into the dark liquid, then held up the flowers. “For my bonny lass.”
Brigid rolled her eyes. “Ye can do better than that with Grandda’s blood running through yer veins.”
