Page 29 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
A genuine smile graced Broch’s lips. “Aye. I’ll have two Blackswell warriors tend to the birlinn. Ye need nae fash yerself. I’ll send word to the MacLean and the king of yer whereabouts, but I will give ye this parting advice: being a legend will nae satisfy whatever is empty within ye.”
Was Broch speaking of himself? He had to be. She feared his need to prove he deserved a place in his clan had been transferred to the Blackswells.
She cleared her throat, intent on offering William her own advice. “Dunnae seek to be a legend at all. Seek to be honorable.”
“I plan to be both, just like Broch,” William said, giving her a pointed look before he turned his horse out of the line. He disappeared into the woods.
As she mulled over William’s words, Broch shifted behind her, and then his plaid, which he’d been wearing, settled on her shoulders. Strong, quick, sure hands began to tuck the soft fabric around her. His fingers grazed her breasts, then her waist, and finally her bottom. She was stunned into stillness by surprise and a searing jolt of wantonness. Devil take the man, her body responded to his, despite her mind telling it not to.
“Stop it,” she said finally, managing to slap behind her.
He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips, which sent prickles all the way up her arm. “Yer wish is my command.”
“Aye?” she asked. “Then I command ye to turn around yer beast and take me home.”
“I’m taking ye home, lass,” he said with irritating gentleness. “To yer new home. Our home.”
He sounded so proud that she considered for a moment, letting him have this one victory, for she knew what it likely meant to him to have a home that was truly his, considering he had thought himself a bastard, but then she recalled her vow to her father. “’Tis nae my home,” she growled. He sighed. Feeling a wiggle of guilt, she asked, “How did ye come to discover Blackswell was yer father?”
Broch’s arms settled once more on either side of her, and after giving a command to his horse for it to move, he said, “When I first arrived there, I thought to fight Brodee to win a purse of money that I intended to use to loosen the Blackswells’ tongues to get the answers I promised I’d seek for ye.” She snorted at that but held her comment, wishing to hear how he’d discovered he was a Blackswell. “When I took off my plaid, Blackswell—”
“Dunnae ye mean yer father?” she asked sarcastically. Och! Why had she not kept her mouth closed?
“I kinnae bring myself to call him such yet. Mayhap I nae ever will.”
“Nay?” she snapped. “But ye took their side so easily and did nae bother to do as ye promised me!”
“I did, Katreine,” he said in a gentle voice. “I inquired for a full sennight. I spoke with over two hundred Blackswell clan members, and nae a one kenned anything of raids upon yer clan or even a whisper of a Blackswell doing something they ought nae to do.”
She snorted. “Ye heard what ye wished to hear.”
“I heard what they told me,” he corrected. “And I discerned the truth of their words in their eyes.”
“Because ye wanted it to be true,” she growled.
“Nay. Because itisthe truth.”
Her temper snapped. “I hate the lot of ye.”
“Let us hope, it is nae always so, lass. Our marriage will be long-suffering if it is. I’d much rather we found peace with each other, even joy.”
God’s teeth, the man had the tongue of a sly serpent. His words flowed over her and beckoned her to accept. She gritted her teeth, unclenching them only to say, “Prepare for a long life of suffering, Broch Blackswell.”
Suddenly, his fingers trailed her neck, making her shiver again. His lips brushed her ear. “I’ve had suffering aplenty, lass. I’d rather have pleasure with ye, as ye ken we can easily find that in each other’s arms.”
Before she could get her rioting emotions under control and think of a proper rejoinder, he went on. “As I was saying, upon arriving, I agreed to fight Brodee. When I took off my plaid, Blackswell saw the branding on my shoulder that he had given me as a bairn, which all firstborn Blackswell males receive from their fathers. He knew instantly I was his. He showed me his marking, exactly like mine, and then he described my mother. I dunnae recall her myself, of course, but Neil, my uncle, told me much of her.”
Despite the fact that she knew asking too much and learning too many details about this man carried the danger of making her like him instead of hate him, she found herself wanting to ask more. Her heart ached for him when she considered what thinking he was a bastard for so many years had been like. She could not begrudge him the discovery that he was not, even if it did make him a Blackswell. “Did yer father tell ye why yer mother took ye and fled him?”
Broch was silent for a long moment, then he finally said, “She thought my father was still bedding the leman he’d had before he’d married my mother.” Broch shrugged. “It seems my years of thinking I was a bastard were brought on by a hateful woman who told my mother that my father was still bedding her sister when it was nae true.”
“That’s horrid,” she said, meaning it. She thought again of William’s words. Was Broch honorable as William had claimed? If so, perhaps he was not seeing his family’s darkness because he was simply so happy to have a true family. Maybe she could make him see them as they truly were?
“Tell me of the marking,” she said, mulling upon her thoughts and what to do.
He quickly described it, and then said, “I’ll show it to ye tonight in our bedchamber.”
His words of not needing her heart but just her body to seal their marriage came back to her. “I will nae give myself to ye willingly!” she burst out, angry again at his words, even though she’d probably deserved them after what she had said to him.
