Highland Brides 03 - On Bended Knee (10 page)

She swallowed hard over the memory that had wounded her spirit so long ago.

She had thought herself long over those childhood sentiments, but it was obvious to her now that she was not.

Suddenly, the notion of asking Colin Mac Brodie for help to win her a husband seemed utterly ridiculous.

She’d talked herself into it, she realized now… and she had to wonder why she would do such a thing.

Well, she thought she knew why.

As she sat, contemplating her motives, My Love crept into her line of vision. Her da’s cat sat and stared at her with those beautiful slitted eyes. Seana stared back, hardly able to resist the comfort of her presence. It was piteous that her only friend should be a beast who had no interest at all in her save to taunt her, but it was true. My Love came as close to being a friend to her as Seana had ever had.

“Brat,” she said, without meaning it.

The cat simply stared at her, unblinking, and Seana sighed.

The truth was… she sought out Colin because she had something to prove to herself. After all these years his cruel words hurt her still. She had denied it all, had told herself that she was immune to him. She had even set out to prove to herself that he could not harm her any longer, that she was far beyond his reach. She had convinced herself that he was her solution to win Broc—and she did want Broc!—but it was suddenly apparent that that was not her motive for seeking out Colin Mac Brodie.

So then, what had she really wanted?

For Colin to look at her and see the error of his ways?

For him to find himself hopelessly smitten with her so that she could smack the arrogance from his face after all this time with a heartfelt rejection? Why? So that she could say… haha… look at me now… I was not good enough for you then, but you are not good enough for me now!

Well, she’d failed miserably whatever her intent.

Colin Mac Brodie had been born with a face that made women kneel at his feet. She was no one to teach him lessons. And he would only play games with her heart and then toss her away like the core of an apple he had enjoyed and no longer had use for.

In that instant when he’d approached her, wanting his kiss for payment, Seana had felt as vulnerable as she had that day so long ago.

Mayhap she hadn’t yearned for that kiss, mayhap her heart no longer pitter-pattered in his presence, mayhap she truly did not like him, but it had somehow, even now, managed to instill in her, for the space of an instant… sheer terror.

What a silly fool she was!

Nay, she was going to have to find another way to gain Broc’s notice. If she must walk up to him herself and tell him to his face—och, it was preferable to suffering Colin Mac Brodie’s presence!

“A kiss from Colin Mac Brodie is the verra last thing I want right now!” she assured My Love.

The cat blinked and continued to stare, unfazed.

“I dinna like that man!” she told the cat. “I dinna like him anymore than I like you!” she added irascibly.

My Love blinked again and lowered her head.

The devil animal had the audacity to look wounded by her words!

Seana knew better.

“Ye canna fool me with that woeful look!” she assured the beast, and silently berated herself for arguing with a bloody cat.

She needed a man. She needed a companion. And her da needed a softer, warmer place to lay his head.

There was but a sennight left before Alison MacLean’s wedding. If she did not see Broc before then, she would surely see him there.

It was time to form a new plan.

She didn’t need Colin Mac Brodie’s help—and to hell with his rotten kiss! Seana would rather kiss a bloody toad!

Speaking of which…

Pushing herself up from the stone, she said to My Love, “Let’s go’n find something for Da to eat. No offense to you cat, but I dinna think your gifts are quite the thing!” It disgusted her to find dead birds and mice at her da’s bedside. She didn’t know how he suffered it.

She hadn’t realized how long she had remained by the still, until the forest began to dim. My Love simply stared up at her, unwilling to move. As dusk fell, the trees began to shimmer with tiny almost imperceptible lights. If Seana hadn’t seen them a thousand times before, she might have questioned the twinkling apparitions, but she didn’t. She simply accepted them, as she did the irascible cat staring up at her. Her da claimed the twinkling lights were magical faery creatures. They looked to her to be no more than tiny winking bugs.

In any case, it was time to go home.

She made her way back to the cairn, certain of only two things that moment: One, My Love would follow when it pleased her. And two, she wasn’t going to honor that devil’s bargain—not tomorrow or any other day—Colin Mac Brodie be damned!

He wasn’t about to let her get away so easily.

Colin wasn’t certain why he couldn’t let it go, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop thinking of her.

He hadn’t seen her for days now—not since she had so arrogantly interrupted his bath at the loch. Brazen wench. She would stand before him at his bath and boldly demand his help, and yet flee at the threat of a simple kiss.

In truth, he didn’t know whether to be amused or feel slighted. No woman had ever fled his touch. And that she hadn’t returned when she’d made her presence known every day before that, was enough to nettle him to the bone. He told himself now that curiosity had driven him into these woodlands to search out his vixen enchantress. And he’d convinced himself, after spending four hours searching for her elusive home, that it was concern for her well-being that kept him searching.

She couldn’t possibly have been so horrified by the prospect of his kiss. He refused to believe it.

He was beginning to wonder if the village folk hadn’t pointed him in the wrong direction. There was no sign at all of even the smallest hut to be found. These woodlands were uninhabited but for the creatures that dwelled here.

He cursed softly to himself with the realization that the sky was growing dusky once more. Once twilight fell, it would be dark within the blink of an eye, and he was at least an hour’s walk from home. On top of that, he hadn’t even thought to bring himself a snack and his belly was complaining mightily. He stopped beneath a heavy tree limb, stretched up his hands and shoved at the branch, thinking where best to go from here.

His belly said home.

His pride said no.

His belly rumbled a little louder, as though cursing at his infernal pride.

“Shaddap,” he said.

He smelled it before he heard her. The pungent aroma of her father’s spirits. It was unmistakable, for no other brewed such a concoction as did Donal the Drunk.

He followed its general direction, until he heard her—the mutter of a female voice.

“Bloody rotten evil thing!”

Colin pursued the voice and discovered the bearer hovered over a strange contraption the likes of which he’d never seen. Her hair was knotted at her nape, and her hands were soiled from working on the… contraption. She smacked it with a hand and the strange beast sputtered and choked.

“I dinna want to do this anymore!” she exclaimed. “I dinna even like the
uisge beatha
! Why could I not be a baker’s daughter instead!”

Colin tried not to laugh at the sight she presented. This instant, she appeared very much the same dirty waif he had once known, the one who had stolen tarts from window sills and then followed him everywhere with the remnants of her pilferage smudged upon her face.

“So this is where ye’ve been?” he asked, startling her. She gave a little shriek and spun to face him, her eyes wide with alarm.

The instant she realized it was him, however, her expression grew vexed.

“Did your minny never teach you manners?”

Colin merely raised a brow at her.

“Wretched man!” she said, and turned her back on him, dismissing him to work upon her ridiculous-looking contraption.

He ignored her barb. “What is that?”

“Well now, what do ye think it is?” she replied without turning. “Who is my da?” she added irascibly.

“Aye, but that doesna explain what that monstrosity is,” he told her. “I have never seen such a thing.”

She remained silent, and continued to work on the sputtering device. “I do not know what it is either,” she confessed after a moment. “’Tis my da’s invention… to brew the
uisge beatha
.”

“Aha,” Colin said. “And where is your da?”

“Home.” She fiddled with the contraption’s extensions. Colin could see now that a piece had broken and that she was trying to force two parts together. It was a coppersmith’s job. Her hands and dress were filthy with soot from the still, and he felt a sudden disgust with her father that he should leave his daughter to make his drink, whilst he stumbled about with his
uisge
. “Drunk?” he asked her.

“Nay!” she replied, turning to him, those lovely green eyes all the brighter for the soot that darkened her face. “I make the rotten liquor, I dinna drink it!”

He’d meant her da, but he could tell by her mood that he wouldn’t win her favor by clarifying that point. He watched her fiddle with the device for an instant from where he stood, and then walked over to where she stood working, looking over her shoulder while she struggled in vain to join the two pieces.

“Ye canna do that,” he pointed out reasonably.

She released the two pieces at once and wiped her hands upon her skirt, making them filthier.

“Dinna tell me what I can or cannot do!” she snapped, casting him a rankled glance over her shoulder. Those pouty lips of hers were no longer pink. They were stained black, but Colin wanted to kiss them anyway. “Go away!” she demanded of him, and returned to her still.

Colin didn’t bloody wish to. He’d spent hours searching for her and he’d be damned if he’d just turn and go now.

“You’re an ill-tempered wench, did ye know?”

She didn’t bother to look at him. “And you’re a mean rotten bugger who breaks little girls’ hearts!”

Colin’s brow furrowed at her crude defamation of his character. Not even Meghan said such cruel things to him.

“That was a long time ago,” he protested.

She turned to glare up at him. “Oh? And ye dinna break hearts anymore, I suppose?”

Colin’s lips twisted into a grimace. He certainly didn’t mean to, but he had no defense ready for himself. In truth, he had broken his share of hearts… and still managed to though he tried not to.

“Would it help if I said I’m sorry?”

She turned back to the still. “Why ever for?”

Damned if she wasn’t going to make him say it.

Colin watched her, uncertain what to say now. “So where have you been?”

She didn’t respond, only continued to work on her wretched device.

“I was concerned,” he confessed. “Ye dinna come back, and I thought ye’d taken ill.”

She gave a little snort. “O’ course, Colin Mac Brodie! And that would be the only reason a woman would not fly into your arms to be kissed!”

Colin’s frown deepened.

She turned on him suddenly, frustration showing in her features. “Why did ye come out here?” she demanded to know.

“I worried,” he said, and thought for himself that it was a lame excuse. He didn’t know why he’d come out here. He’d been asking himself that same question for hours. As yet there was no answer.

He was drawn to her.

He couldn’t figure another reason.

“Well!” she assured him. “I dinna need your help, and I surely dinna want your kisses, Mac Brodie, so ye can bloody well go home now!”

He didn’t want to.

“I’d like to help.”

“I said I do not need your help!” she countered stubbornly. “I can manage alone verra well, thank ye verra much!” She turned back to her work.

“You cannot fix it like that,” he told her. “It needs a smith. Why will you not let me help?”

She kicked the base of the still. “Because you’re a rotten selfish knave who cannot do anything for anybody without wantin’ something in return, and I’ll not be kissing you—not today, nor any other day! That’s why! Blasted thing!” She kicked the pot still once more in a fit of temper.

That wasn’t precisely true, Colin protested, though silently because he could not come up with a single instance he had not profited from a situation. He was certain there must be an occasion, but it just wasn’t in his nature to pass over opportunities. Life was full with them, even in the darkest times. It was no crime to help oneself while helping others, too.

She spat out a string of oaths that would have made his sister blush.

“I do not even know why I asked you for help to begin with!” she confessed. “You’re a rotten bugger who does not care about anyone but himself!”

Colin’s brows collided over her low opinion of him. He damned well didn’t like it. “So why did you?”

“Because I made the mistake of believing you had a heart, Colin Mac Brodie!”

“Will ye stop calling me by my full name! You sound like my grandminny Fia! My name is Colin. I do not need to be reminded that I am Brodie’s son.”

She cast him a sour glance. “I dinna want to call you Colin! I do not like you Colin Mac Brodie!”