The Highlander’s Awakening Lairds of Dunkeld Series) Read online

Amice rolled her eyes. “Count on it.”

  They both laughed and leaned on the wall together, the sun warming them as it broke between the clouds and shone down warmly.

  “The gathering is soon,” Amice commented.

  “I know.”

  “My dress is ready,” she said. “I'm so excited.” The younger girl was practically bounding up and down and Ettie had to smile.

  “It is a beautiful dress,” Ettie said quietly. Amice had chosen a sky blue fabric that made her red hair seem like living fire. Ettie looked out over the landscape, feeling her heart thump in her chest. Somehow, she had a sense that he was just out there, just over the horizon. Riding this way, just ahead of the wind.

  “I think we should go in,” Amice commented, rubbing her hands over her biceps as the cold wind shuddered past them.

  “A bit longer?” Ettie protested. “I need to stay up here awhile.”

  “If you insist,” Amice said skeptically.

  “I do,” Ettie said.

  “Well, I might go down – or at least move a little out of the cold.”

  As Ettie turned to face her, she caught sight of a flash of dark in the woodlands, just on the edge of her vision.

  “Ettie...” Amice protested as she went to the rampart again.

  “Wait,” Ettie said. “They're here.”

  “Are they?”

  Amice ran to join her at the crenellation and they both stood, gripping the stones as they looked over the edge. Ettie felt her heart light up. It was them!

  “I'll tell Mama,” Amice said at once. “We need to set something out for them. Ale and cakes. Oh! It's so good they're back...”

  As Amice clambered back down the ladder and into the bowels of the castle, Ettie felt anxiousness clench its fist inside her. She could see Brodgar clearly from up here – the sweep of his hair in the wind, his strong posture. It wasn't anxiousness that made her heart patter, she realized with some surprise. It was something else. Attraction, maybe.

  He is such a fine man.

  She felt her heart thud painfully in her chest, her hands, gripping the stone, damp with sweat. He rode with a powerful ease, his body swaying slightly in the saddle, his back straight and tall. His hand, sweeping his hair out of his eyes, was such an assured, almost arrogant gesture that she felt herself smile even as her body responded to his effortless power. She had never felt like this about anyone before. However, then again, she had never seen a man who behaved as this one did.

  He is so, so handsome. She watched as he rode through the gate and into the courtyard, jumping lightly from the saddle and onto the flagstones, and then striding across the yard. She saw him look up.

  He saw her. She was sure of it. At this distance, she could barely see his features, but he looked up, head tipped back, and she felt herself shiver as his eyes raked her. He stared straight at her for about a minute, then looked down and walked away.

  He'll come up here when he arrives. She didn't know why she thought that, she simply knew it. She felt her breath catch in her chest and told herself to be calm. Whatever happened would happen. She'd have to meet him as she was, in her blue and white gown, her hair loose and flowing unbound and unruly all around her in the fretful wind.

  She was standing at the wall when she heard his footsteps behind her. She turned.

  “Henriette,” he breathed.

  She found herself in his arms. He crushed her against him and his mouth descended on hers, clinging and wet and hungry. She felt his tongue push imperiously against her lips and she parted them, letting it slide in. Her body, held against his muscled chest, was warm and satisfied in a way she’d never imagined. It felt so good to feel his tongue probe her mouth. His kiss deepened, his tongue exploring her as he pressed her to him. His hands stroked her.

  Ettie held him close, pushing her body onto his. She felt a hardness in the region of his loins and was surprised by it, and equally surprised by the way her body responded. There was an innate sense that this was right – he wanted her. She held herself against him and reveled in the feel of his muscular body on hers. As his hands moved through her hair, stroking it, she felt her body melt with tenderness against him.

  “Ettie,” he murmured as he broke the kiss.

  “Brodgar.”

  They looked at each other, both, she thought, with some surprise. She had moved to a new threshold and it felt as if they were standing at the edge of something massive. Some new understanding that had never been crossed before. She felt herself flush.

  He seemed to feel it too, for he gave a breathless laugh, the sound of which made her smile.

  “Whew,” he said. “I...I was lost without you, Ettie.”

  She beamed. “I missed you, too,” she whispered. She walked toward him and they embraced again. He looked down into her face. This close, she could see the little flecks of almost-black in his amber eyes. She stroked his hair and he smiled, kissing her nose.

  “I wanted you so much,” he said frankly. “I was...it's silly, I suppose. But since you arrived here – since we met – a few days apart seem a lifetime.”

  Ettie laughed, wonder thrilling through her. “I felt the same”, she acknowledged.

  “Really?” he looked down into her eyes with rank surprise on his face.

  “Yes!” she laughed. “Oh, Brodgar. How can you not know?”

  “Not know what?” he asked, though the shy grin made her think he knew what she meant.

  “How can you not know what I feel for you?”

  As she said it, Ettie blushed red. Did she say it? Henriette Fraser, telling a man how she felt? She looked at her long-fingered hands.

  “What?” he said.

  “I...that was...I'm sorry if I offended you,” she said, still flushed.

  Brodgar looked at her, incredulous. “Ettie! How can you even think that?” he breathed. “I am...you have no idea what an honor it is for me that you would feel this way toward me. I assure you, I feel the same - and likely more – for you.”

  Ettie stared at him. She felt as if she might cry. She also wanted to laugh. She found herself doing both as he took her in his arms and kissed her with tender passion.

  “I've never felt this way before,” Ettie confessed, looking up into his face.

  He grinned. “Me neither!” he admitted. “I never thought I would, actually.”

  “I didn't think it possible.”

  They both laughed.

  “We...oh, Ettie,” Brodgar said, closing his eyes. “What can we do?”

  “You mean...your betrothal?” Ettie whispered. Brodgar's eyes widened.

  “You know?”

  “She told me. Your mother, that is. She apologized,” she added, sniffing as her tears fell, sudden and unchecked.

  Brodgar sighed. “She was wrong to tell you. If I'd told you, I would have said it matters naught to me. I want to end it. That's why I left,” he added.

  “Oh?” Ettie frowned, not sure she could let herself believe what he was trying to convey.

  “I...” he turned away, walking to the rampart. His hands clasped behind his back, the wind, stiller now, ruffled his hair. He looked like a painting come to life – King Arthur, or one of those romantic heroes she read of. “I went to Bronley. I wanted to discuss with the thane how to end my promise.”

  “Oh!” Ettie's heart thumped and she felt suddenly alarm. “Oh, Brodgar! That was risky.”

  “I told Father,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. “I wasn't risking him.”

  “Oh.” Ettie looked down. “What said the thane?”

  “MacDonnell?” Brodgar frowned. “I know not. I didn't ask. Let's say, er...complications arose.”

  “What? Oh, Brodgar,” Ettie said, covering her mouth with her hands. What had happened? Had there been some sort of declaration of enmity, because of her? Was there going to be a feud, and was it her fault? “Tell me!”

  Brodgar sighed. He held her in his arms. “Nothing bad,” he said. He was frowning. Ettie stroked his head a
nd he closed his eyes.

  “I won't ask you to say if you don't wish to,” Ettie frowned. In her heart, there was fear building.

  “I can tell you,” he said. “But promise not to tell Father. Or anyone. Please?”

  Ettie looked at him with surprise. “Of course. Your secrets are my secrets. Always.”

  Brodgar gave her a fond smile. “Thank you. Well, then.” He let out a breath. Held her hands. “The problem is actually a solution, if I can just make it work somehow. Alf loves her.”

  “What?” Ettie felt a smile visit her mouth. “Brodgar! Isn't that perfect!”

  “Yes,” Brodgar nodded absently. “And no. The thing is, the thane wants his daughter to marry a MacConnoway. That means me. Alf is the son of Blaine MacNeil.”

  “Yes. That's correct.” Ettie frowned. “So there's no hope?”

  “There has to be,” Brodgar insisted. “One thing I'm sure of is that we will wed, Ettie.”

  “What?” Ettie stared at him. She felt a smile creep across her face. “Brodgar!” Had he really just said that? That was a proposal, but the strangest one she'd ever heard!

  “Oh,” Brodgar smiled sheepishly. “I forgot. Would you marry me?”

  Ettie felt the laughter build inside her. “Brodgar MacConnoway!” she said. “Yes.”

  The look he gave her was one of utter disbelief. For someone who'd been so sure of it all seconds ago, he seemed surprised.

  “Oh, Ettie,” he breathed. “My love. My life.”

  He drew her toward him and his lips, when they touched hers, were slow and sweet and tender. They nibbled at hers, the tongue licking the line of her mouth without probing. It was a sweet feeling, one that could drive her wild, she was certain, if he kept at it. Eventually, boldly, she let her own tongue flick out and touch his. She felt his surprise and smiled. He moved his tongue into her mouth.

  Their tongues slid round each other as he drew her harder against him. She could feel the hardness press her leg and she moved round, touching it with her body. They clung together, moving against each other with a pressing urgency.

  At length, Brodgar stepped back. “My love,” he said. He was panting, eyes wild. “We shouldn't...” he trailed off. “I'm sorry. I want you.”

  Ettie knew what he meant. She knew at least a little of the things men and women did when they were wed. She felt her face flush scarlet. “I understand,” she said in a voice that trembled.

  “We should go inside,” he said with a shaky laugh. “It's cold outside.”

  “It is,” Ettie agreed, still flushed. She knew what he meant. Here, alone, on the roof, despite the frost, it was too isolated and too tempting.

  “Come,” he said, descending the steps. He held out a hand for her and she took it, and, laughing, jumped down the steps.

  Inside the turret, they kissed again. Then, gasping, eyes blind for anything but him, she drew back. He looked as desperate as her. “Let's go down,” he said.

  They did.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A PATH AHEAD

  A PATH AHEAD

  Brodgar stood in the doorway of his father's study, watching the man at his desk. The light of a single candle shivered down the dark chestnut of his hair, now frosted at the temples, and he looked serene. A big man with an aura of power about him, seeing him here in this homely setting, the firelight flickering over his sculpted face, made him vulnerable. Brodgar swallowed.

  My father is a powerful thane, and a kind man. I don't want to make trouble for him.

  He and Alf had agreed to meet with the thane after dinner, the time he spent checking the estate accounts. Brodgar looked around the hallway, wishing Alf would appear. Somehow, having him with him would make it easier to do.

  “Brodgar?” Alf whispered. He came up the hallway from the opposite side and Brodgar felt his eyes widen and then narrow as his father heard his voice.

  “Oh! Son! Alf! A surprise,” he said, looking up from his work to see them in the doorway. “Come! Sit down. To what do I owe this delegation?”

  Brodgar and Alf chuckled self-consciously.

  “Father, I...”

  “We wanted to...”

  Both of them spoke together. Lord Broderick gave a warm laugh.

  “I'll have to arbitrate, I see. Alf, you are usually the aggrieved party.” He made a wry face at Brodgar, who chuckled. “You may go first.”

  “Well,” Alf paused, drawing in a deep breath. “My lord, I...I wanted to ask you if...you know your son is betrothed to Lady Ambeal, well...”

  “Yes, a betrothal set to unite warring clans, and one that suits us well. What of it?”

  Brodgar felt his heart sink into his boots at that. However, his father's eyes were warm, to his amazement; the statement clearly meant to tease.

  “My lord, I...” He glanced at Brodgar, his face pale in the firelight, seeking support.

  “Father, we would swap.”

  “What?” Broderick was incredulous now. He laughed, his face halved with smiling. “What mischief do you two rascals make here, eh?”

  “Father, no mischief, I declare,” Brodgar said, feeling himself start to laugh as his father's merry eyes touched his own. Soon they were both laughing.

  “I am in earnest, Lord Broderick,” Alf said insistently. “I have...feelings...for that lady.” He inspected his fingers. His cheeks were red. He was shy, suddenly. Brodgar stared.

  “That is another matter,” the thane said seriously. “Lads? You do know what I have to say, don't you?”

  “I suppose,” Brodgar said, feeling his heart sink. He couldn't really expect his father to agree with their mad scheming, after all. His father was a wise man, and one who always put the interests of the clan uppermost. He would never agree to this.

  “Well, what I have to say is, all the best. My blessings are with this. We must just find a way.”

  Brodgar stared at him. “Father? Really?” He couldn't actually believe he heard correctly. Had his father really given his blessing? To them? For this?

  Broderick smiled, and then sighed. “I can't guarantee that I can do anything,” he said. “This is difficult. You understand,” he said, giving Brodgar a level stare.

  “I do.” Brodgar swallowed.

  “We didn't mean to make things difficult,” Alf said quickly. Broderick turned the level gaze to him.

  “Well, you did,” he said, though the smile with which he said it belied his angry words. “Even so, with the three of us applying our minds to the problem – not to mention your mother, whose problem-solving is unparalleled – we can succeed.” He smiled at Brodgar, then at Alf. “So. You have my word. I can try. No more. That has to suit.”

  “It does, Father,” Brodgar said, feeling a lump in his throat. He'd never realized before how deeply his father cared for him. That he would care enough to put his needs before those of the clan. He reached out and squeezed his hand, not knowing how to show how much he appreciated and loved him. “It does.”

  Broderick blinked. If his son hadn't known better, he'd have thought the shine in his eyes was tears. Must be a trick of the light, he dismissed it. Broderick MacConnoway wouldn't cry about something like that.

  “Lord Thane,” Alf said formally. He looked dazed, as if a rabbit had just hopped out of the fireplace, unscathed by the flames. “I thank you...I can't believe...Thanks,” he said, smiling dazedly.

  Broderick laughed. “I assure you, I'm not so heartless. I was young, once, like you both.” He paused, and Brodgar knew he was lost in memories of the past. His mother was Lord Broderick's second wife, the first brutally killed in a raid. He wondered what memories played across his mind.

  “We cannot thank you enough,” he said.

  Lord Broderick chuckled. “For what it's worth,” he said. “Remember, I don't know what I can do. My inclination is to call MacDonnell here, make some agreement. I might cede the rights to the northern field to him, perhaps. Or some other arrangement. Not that taking my nephew would be so great a hardship th
at I need to sweeten it,” he added, laughing with Alf. “But we'll see.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Brodgar breathed. He felt as dazed as Alf appeared to be. They both looked at each other, relief slumping them in their seats.

  “We should go,” Alf said hastily, springing to his feet. “Leave you to your business, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Alf,” Broderick said with a grimace. “I don't mind avoiding it. Alec has the most awful handwriting – it hurts my eyes.”

  Brodgar chuckled. “I'm sorry, Father,” he said ruefully. “I wish I could help.”

  “You can,” Broderick said, grinning and handing him the book, then withdrawing it as his son looked horrified. “Don't worry. You'll have to do it when I'm gone – I'll do it as long as I'm able. Give you respite from it.”

  Brodgar smiled at him. “Thanks, Father.”

  “Don't mention it. Oh, and, lads?” he said as they walked to the door, pausing to hear him. “If you see Lady Amabel, ask her to step in here a moment? There's something I want to ask her about. And she should know we've got an excess of root crops still. Something the cottagers can have if the winter outlasts their supplies this year.”

  “We'll tell her,” Brodgar said earnestly. “As soon as we see her.”

  “You do that,” Broderick called. “Goodnight, lads.”

  “Goodnight, Father.”

  “Goodnight, my lord.”

  As they left the study, Brodgar and Alf looked at each other with amazement. It didn't seem possible that it could be as easy as that. However, they had done it. They had asked.

  Moreover, he’d agreed.

  Later, they went to Alf's room to talk. Alf had a room in the turret, a ladder leading to a loft of sorts. Conn had shared the place, but now he'd left it was the bigger of the two rooms, easier to share. Brodgar leaned against the wall, sighing.

  “What can we do?”

  “I don't know. I am awed,” he added, pouring a drink for Brodgar, who took the pewter goblet in his fist, looking into the depths of it as if answers floated therein.

  “I, too,” he said after a moment, drinking deep. “That was unexpected.”