Chapter 10

 

The next day, the weather improved enough to permit the promised riding excursion. Brody was happy to get out of the castle. However large the accommodations, days cooped up inside were difficult for a man of active habits. He welcomed the opportunity to gallop across the snowy hillsides, and cast his eyes over the wide vistas of his cousin’s estate, and breathe air straight off the top of the mountains.

Not to mention that a ride in the open might provide a chance to coax Elspeth away for more kisses.

It was years since he’d pursued a lady with no purpose beyond kissing. To his shame, he had to go back to when he was fourteen and madly in love with the miller’s pretty daughter at Invermackie.

Pretty Polly Macrae was still as plump as a pigeon. She lived happily on the estate, with her husband John Robertson, the blacksmith, and four red-headed children. While Brody’s interest in Polly had long since faded, he’d retained his early weakness for a soft armful of sweet woman. A soft armful like Elspeth Douglas. Why the devil had he taken this long to notice that Hamish’s sister was perfect for him?

The prospect of possessing her had kept him awake and itching with frustration most of the night. But he was prepared to master his impatience and wait until she was lawfully his. Then heaven help her, he’d set out to slake an appetite that only grew more powerful after last night’s tormenting, delightful kisses.

When he lured her into the morning room, he’d known that they only had minutes together. He needed to keep a tight rein on his passions. That plan had lasted about ten seconds, until the first innocent touch of her lips. He’d gone up in a roar of flame, while the temptation to devour her mouth and explore that luscious body had nearly overmastered him. Surely Satan himself had sculpted those sinuous curves.

He’d managed to act like a gentleman—or as much of a gentleman as a laddie could, when kissing a well-bred female behind a closed door. But maintaining his restraint had tried him to the limit. Once Elspeth promised to marry him, she’d better get ready for a quick ceremony. Or else he very much feared she’d be no virgin on her wedding night.

“Are ye all right, cuz?” Fergus asked curiously, trotting up on the big gray mare he always rode.

“I didn’t sleep too well,” Brody admitted.

His steamy fantasies of Elspeth kept him lagging behind the rest of the group. Ahead, riders strung out across the snowy hillside. Everyone had come outside this afternoon, except Ugolino and Giulia, who rested after their long journey. The children were chasing each other on their ponies. Prudence and Charity rode together, with Lady Glen Lyon a little further back beside Donald and Charles. Marina cantered ahead of the pack. Brody was surprised Fergus wasn’t riding at her side as he usually did.

Elspeth had set out with the others. Now he couldn’t see her.

Nor could he see Diarmid. Suspicion jabbed him with a sharp fork. Was she practicing her new kissing skills with her handsome cousin? Brody decided then and there, he’d brook no delay in getting his ring on the lassie’s finger. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. What better day to make a proposal?

He wasn’t by nature a romantic, but he knew Elspeth was. All those books she devoured were crammed with deeds of derring-do and larger-than-life heroes. He needed to ask for her hand with suitable panache.

Once she consented, just let that snake Diarmid try and look at her sideways. He’d beat the bastard to a pulp.

“Did ye hear me?” Fergus asked.

With a shock, Brody realized his thoughts had drifted away. Not since the days of Polly had any female distracted him like this. “What did ye say?”

“Actually I was saying you’re nae yourself this Christmas. What just happened proves it. Is there something wrong?”

Brody had assumed he’d concealed his recent restlessness from his friends. It turned out he’d assumed wrongly. “I’m thinking of making a few changes.”

“A new mistress?”

He couldn’t blame Fergus for jumping to that conclusion. With a sigh, he decided to confess his plans. After all, he’d told Hamish. Fergus also deserved to know. “A new wife.”

“Och, that’s braw news.” Fergus looked delighted. “Are congratulations due, old man? Who’s the lucky lassie? I hadn’t heard of ye courting anyone. I assume she’s a lady you met in Edinburgh.”

Marina had already discerned his interest in Elspeth. He was surprised she hadn’t confided that news to Fergus. “Not in Edinburgh. An old family connection.”

Fergus frowned. “I cannae imagine who.”

Brody frowned, too. “Elspeth Douglas, of course.”

“Elspeth?” Fergus sounded surprised. And not particularly pleased. With a sinking feeling, Brody recognized a reaction akin to Hamish’s.

“She’s a fine lassie.”

“Aye, she is.”

“And she’ll make a bonny wife.”

“She will.”

The silence that hurtled down was as bruising as a rockslide. Eventually Brody could bear it no longer. “You’re going to tell me I’m too selfish and shallow to make her happy.”

Fergus’s chiseled features could turn dauntingly stern. He’d never looked more the Laird of Achnasheen pronouncing judgment than he did when, after a sticky pause, he replied. “I know ye better than anyone else, I believe.”

“Aye,” Brody said cautiously, aware that such a remark wasn’t likely to precede an expression of wholehearted support. “That’s true.”

“Do ye love Elspeth?”

Brody frowned again. Love? He hadn’t even thought about it. “I told ye—she’s just right for me.”

“But do ye love her?”

“I want to make her my wife. I want to live with her until I’m old. I want her to be the mother of my bairns. If that’s love, then I love her.”

“Och, it’s a start, I suppose.” Fergus’s shrewd gray eyes leveled on him. “But if you want my advice, you willnae marry that lassie unless ye love her with all your heart. It’s what she deserves. If ye dinnae love her like that, you’ll never make her happy.”

Brody shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. He’d never had a conversation like this with his cousin. With anybody. His mother had died so long ago, and his father, while a splendid fellow and a good laird, had avoided any awkward discussion of emotions. “I mean to do right by her. I’ll be faithful, despite what Hamish thinks.”

Fergus’s eyes sharpened. “You’ve spoken to Hamish?”

“Aye. He’s no’ in favor of the match either.”

“And what does wee Elspeth say?”

His hands tightened on Perseus’s reins. He hoped to hell she wasn’t saying “Kiss me, Diarmid” right now. “I havenae asked her yet. She’s given me cause to hope.”

A girl like Elspeth wouldn’t kiss a laddie unless she had honorable intentions. She wasn’t a hardened flirt like Brody.

Fergus still looked like he passed sentence on a sheep-stealing crofter. “You’re my cousin and my friend, Brody, but if ye break that girl’s heart, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I’m giving up my rakish ways.” Brody scowled at the big, auburn-haired man riding at his side. “I have some honor.”

Fergus looked unconvinced. “There are more ways to hurt a woman than taking a mistress.”

He supposed there must be, although he hadn’t given the matter much thought. Which didn’t mean he appreciated seeing the pity in Fergus’s eyes, as if his cousin was sure Brody had no idea what he was getting into.

“I look forward to marrying Elspeth and proving to you and Hamish that I can be an exemplary husband,” he responded huffily.

“See that ye do,” his cousin said and urged his horse into a canter.

Brody stared unseeing after Fergus. Damn it, since marrying Marina, his cousin had love on the brain. And a few other body parts, too, he’d wager. Marina and Fergus had trouble keeping their hands off one another, even after more than a year together.

If desire equaled love, he definitely loved Elspeth. But he had a grim inkling that his cousin was talking about something more profound than mere physical pleasure. God knew what. Until now, Brody had been content to dabble at the safe edges of intense emotion. Hamish had accused him of being shallow. If there wasn’t an element of truth in that, it wouldn’t have hurt quite so much.

Did Brody love Elspeth? Devil if he knew.

He certainly cared enough to find her absence with Diarmid increasingly infuriating.

In which case, he should have been relieved to see her trot back into view. However she and Diarmid rode a little too close, and the amity between them was too apparent for Brody to find much comfort in her reappearance. He dug his heels into his horse’s sides and galloped across to where the cousins were laughing together.

“See anything interesting?” He wanted to sound nonchalant, but the question emerged with a snide tinge that made Elspeth direct a curious gaze his way. She looked lovely. Pink-cheeked with the cold, and the rich colors of the paisley shawl draped around her head set off her brilliant dark eyes and creamy skin.

Diarmid fixed a sardonic eye upon him, as if he guessed the lurid suspicions running through Brody’s mind. “Aye, we enjoyed a delightful interlude,” he said in a silken voice. “I rarely get Elspeth to myself.”

To think, Brody had once considered this slimy toad his friend. His hands jerked on the reins, making Perseus sidle across the firm snow in equine protest. Elspeth’s expression remained puzzled. To his relief, she didn’t look like a woman who’d just been kissed.

“Diarmid was showing me the view across to Skye. You can see the Cuillins from where we were.”

Bugger the Cuillins. “Indeed.” Brody wished he didn’t sound like a sulky schoolboy.

The three of them settled into an ambling walk, while the cousins fell into reminiscences about childhood holidays. Brody suspected that Diarmid chose the subject specifically to exclude him. After Elspeth made a few unsuccessful attempts to draw him into the conversation, she left him alone.

At the top of the brae, they caught up with the rest of the party. This was one of Brody’s favorite places on his cousin’s estate. The land swept down to the turrets and battlements of the castle, with the sea and the Isle of Skye in the distance.

“I did my first Achnasheen painting here,” Marina said with a nostalgic smile.

“Aye, ye took my advice about that, but no’ much else,” Fergus said drily, reaching across to squeeze her hand where it lay loose on the reins.

“At that stage, I was yet to discover that you’re always right about everything, caro.”

His eyes narrowed on her. “You dinnae mean that.”

She batted her eyelashes theatrically. “Don’t I?”

He laughed. “Ye wee besom.” He turned to the rest of the group. “Anyone interested in a race? It’s flat as far as the cliff, so we’ll have a braw run.” He raised his voice for the children to hear. “Ye bairns go first.”

The suggestion received an enthusiastic response. As the youngest members of the party galloped away, Diarmid edged his horse toward the front, ready for the next round.

“Do you want to race?” Elspeth asked Brody, when he didn’t move.

“Och, no.” He shook his head. “I want to be alone with ye.”

She frowned in disapproval. “It doesn’t feel like it. You seem out of sorts.”

Since Diarmid had shifted out of earshot, Brody wasn’t nearly as grumpy as he had been. Usually he was accounted an easygoing companion. These recent mood swings left him bewildered and edgy. “I dinnae like ye going off with Diarmid,” he muttered.

“He’s my cousin.”

“I ken that. But he’s got a way with the ladies. Cannae imagine why. He’s a damned dull dog. Always doing the right thing.”

“I thought you were friends.”

“If he keeps making sheep’s eyes at ye, I’ll friend him into a bloody nose.”

Her eyes rounded, and she turned in the sidesaddle to study him. “My goodness, Brody. Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Brody never blushed, so that couldn’t possibly be a blush heating his cheeks. “Did he try and kiss ye?”

She still regarded him as though he’d lost his mind. Perhaps he had. If love meant a lad’s sanity disintegrated, he could now tell Fergus that he was in love.

“That’s none of your business,” she said coolly, in a tone that as recently as two days ago, he’d never have imagined hearing from retiring Miss Elspeth Douglas.

He caught her bridle. “Show me the view across to Skye.”

“You can see Skye from here,” she said with a dismissive sniff.

His jaw set in stubborn lines. “I want to see the view Diarmid showed ye.”

“Rocks tell no tales,” she snapped, although she kept her voice down to avoid attracting notice. “You’ll find no evidence of a flirtation there.”

Not that their companions paid them any attention. They were too busy urging on the shrieking children who streamed across the ridge.

“No, but I’ll find a girl who needs a good kissing.”

She hunched one disdainful shoulder. “I’m not sure I want to kiss you, when you’re in this outlandish humor.”

“Are ye challenging me, Elspeth?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

She arched her eyebrows. “No, I’m trying to put you in your place.”

He grinned at her, suddenly, illogically happy. “Och, lassie, my place is in your arms.”

“Not if you’re going to stomp around like an angry bear, it’s not.”

He tightened his hold on her horse’s bridle. “I promise no more stomping.”

She focused a searching gaze on him. Something in his face must have persuaded her to relent, because a faint smile curved those lush, pink lips. “In that case, Brody, you may show me the view. I think it will be unforgettable.”

He laughed aloud with elation—and a measure of relief he refused to admit—and steered their horses toward the frosty trees. “I’ll make sure it is, my bonny lass.”