Highland Thunder (Isle of Mull Series) Page 6

  She threw the blanket on his head, “You can sleep in the barn,” she said, then spun around and started back down the hill.

  “At long last,” he called out.

  She released a frustrated screech into the night.

  “And a goodnight to you, lass.”

  His laughter followed her down the hill, enflaming her temper until she could barely draw breath. She needed to be rid of Duncan MacKinnon. Until that time, she would have no peace.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, Brenna awoke with Nellore’s warm, little body snuggling close. Tiny fingers clung to Brenna’s and a busy thumb rubbed Brenna’s hand over and over again while its owner slept. Brenna cuddled Nellore closer, not wanting to let go. She inhaled the scent of her soft, black curls and smiled.

  A sudden commotion outside demanded her attention, but she regretted having to leave her daughter’s side. Pressing a kiss to Nellore’s forehead, she rose and hurried over to her washing basin. She splashed her face with cool water, clearing the sleepiness from her eyes. Then she tossed a couple birch twigs in her mouth to chew while she pulled on her tunic and slippers. Not bothering to belt her waist, she spit the twigs into the basin and hurried outside.

  She gasped as her eyes feasted on progress.

  Cormac and Jamie managed an ox-driven plow over the final field still unturned. Bridget’s daughters, Fiona and Isobel, were spreading seed. Their faces were hidden, but their waves of silver blonde hair revealed their identities. And then there was Anna and Bridget. They popped right up from the plant the moment Brenna stepped out into the morning light and waved.

  Belonging wrapped a tender cloak around Brenna’s shoulders. She shivered with delight at the display of support from her clan. She was not born a MacKinnon, and Mull had only been her home for seven years, but she felt as tied to the land and to the people as to her birth clan on Skye.

  A more beautiful start to the day she could not have imagined. She laughed noting Rona’s absence and wondered if she would have felt differently if the well-meaning lass was still gibbering away. A nuisance-free morning was just what she needed. She looked around; someone else was notably absent. Calm enveloped her as relief released the tension from her shoulders. Only warm-hearted friends joined her this morning. She was free of scorn and rudeness.

  With a smile, she started toward Anna and Bridget. But then he came around the corner of the house and headed straight over to her dear friends. She held back as she watched an easy smile spread across his features.

  Who was this man? The one that smiled and teased.

  She seldom saw his dark eyes as they typically looked everywhere except at her, and when she did they were at best guarded and at worse menacing.

  Or staring at her with open desire.

  She shook her head mortified by her own thought. She did not ken what transpired between them when Duncan dressed her hands, but one thing she knew for certain was that Duncan would prefer any woman over her. He never feigned affection where Brenna was concerned.

  He said something to Anna and Bridget that had them bent over with laughter. His eyes were shining. Nay, they twinkled. In fact, his whole blasted face shone with a lightness she had never herself received. But then she recalled the night they first met and remembered he had once treated her with kindness.

  It was on the eve of Beltane when she first came to Mull, and the clan celebrated with music and dancing and a grand feast. She was a stranger in a new clan and was feeling lonesome for her family who would have been enjoying their own revelries that night. When Duncan approached her, she was relieved to have someone to talk to and found him to be agreeable straightaway. How could she not? He had been kind and funny, not to mention tall and dark with a heart-melting smile—yet the very moment Ewan joined them and introduced her as his wife, Duncan’s smile faltered and the light in his eyes disappeared never to be seen by her again.

  He did not approve of her; this she knew. He felt his best friend deserved better, but what did that matter now? Ewan had loved her, and the rest of the clan held her in high esteem. Duncan could rot for all she cared. With that she threw her shoulders back and called out, “’Tis a fine morning.”

  ***

  Duncan froze. Slowly, he turned around and felt his chest tighten at Brenna’s approach. She had yet to tie back and cover her hair. He cursed the absence of her scarf. Her usual adornment was perhaps the one thing standing between him and madness.

  God’s Blood, but she was beautiful.

  Her fiery red hair tumbled over her shoulders, rushing down to her hips in gleaming waves like a waterfall. Her wide eyes shone bright and rich with life. He felt perspiration gather on his brow. His heart pounded in his ears, and his tongue felt like driftwood in his mouth as his eyes followed the sway of her hips. His rapt gaze clung to every curve as she drew closer. It was more than a man could take.

  He turned to Bridget and Anna and made his apologies before heading up the hill toward the village, not daring to look back. He was certain at least three sets of female eyes followed him. He felt the sting of their gazes boring into the back of his head. Duncan had no doubt in his mind they thought his departure abrupt, even rude, but merciful God in Heaven, what else was he to do but pick his jaw up off the ground and make quick his escape before he did something truly foolish—like pulling Brenna into his arms and tasting her soft lips for the first time.

  He groaned as he imagined her kissing him back.

  He shook his head. He needed to forget Brenna’s lips, and there was no better place to do that than the training fields. Ronan’s tactics were harsh—the older warriors attested to this always being the case, but his warriors were unmatched in strength and skill. Perhaps, a torturous climb up a treacherous cliff wall would allow him to forget about Brenna and his desperate heart and how much he wished to redress the bandages on her hands.

  ***

  “Did I not tell you, Anna? The man cannot tolerate my company,” Brenna said as Duncan dipped out of sight beyond the hill.

  “It seems hard to believe,” Anna said, “but I think you might be right. Have you ever seen Duncan act so strangely?” Anna asked, turning to Bridget.

  Bridget did not reply at first. Her gaze remained fixed on the hill. Brenna saw a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but when Bridget faced her the smile was gone.

  “His behavior was indeed strange,” Bridget began. “Aye, I believe he feels rather strongly toward you,” she said with a wink.

  “Of this I’ve no doubt, but I’ve done naught to earn his animosity,” Brenna fumed.

  “Nay, my dear, of course you have not.” Bridget smiled. “But let us not worry. Such things have a way of sorting themselves out. You shall see.”

  “I am afraid I cannot share your optimism, Bridget, but I will not let his ill-mannered ways cast a gloomy shadow over my delight. My thanks to everyone for coming.” Brenna called out to the others.

  They were soon joined by Fiona and Isobel, and talk quickly turned to Isobel’s growing belly.

  “You must be delighted, Bridget,” Brenna said. “Seven grandchildren.”

  “Eight, actually.” Bridget said. “My oldest, Tira, is also expecting.”

  “That is wonderful. You’ve had news from Skye then?”

  “Aye, she sent a messenger who arrived just yesterday to tell us her baby is due after Beltane. She also thought to say that your sister and brothers are all well.”

  “’Tis glad I am to hear.” Brenna pressed her hand to Isobel’s stomach. “Your family grows and grows,” Brenna laughed.

  Isobel rubbed her swollen belly. “Aye, and so do I,” she smiled.

  “And how is Tira’s eldest son, our future chieftain?” Brenna asked.

  “Logan is strong like his grandfather. He shall come at Yule to Mull to begin his training,” Bridget said.

  “His coming is a blessing for which I am grateful, but, in truth, my heart breaks for Tira,” Brenna confessed.

  Bridge
t nodded. “She will regret his absence, but she will endure it for the good of the clan.”

  “Brenna,” a voice called out.

  She turned and saw Jamie and Cormac approach.

  “’Tis done, Brenna. The plant is finished and just in time,” Jamie said.

  Brenna spoke words of heartfelt gratitude to both men, which Jamie accepted with a brilliant smile. White teeth shone against bronzed skin. Golden hair fell in waves to his shoulders. He had deep set honey-brown eyes and a strong, masculine jaw. Although not as tall or broad as some of the other warriors, his torso boasted a wealth of bronzed muscles. Rona was correct at least where Jamie was concerned: he was very well made. She had just never noticed before now.

  “Would you like me to take a look at your hands?” Jamie asked as he reached out and took hold of one, scrutinizing the bandages. Although it was Jamie who touched her, all she could think of was Duncan’s breath on her skin and his big, gentle hands cradling hers. She blushed as the sensual memories flooded her mind, but she shook them away, wondering why she was once again thinking about Duncan’s hands. Evidently, she missed the feel of a man’s touch.

  “Nay,” she said, taking her hand back. “Duncan cleaned and dressed the sores just yesterday, but I thank you.” Jamie’s eyes traveled from her hands to her bare toes, up the length of her figure to her hair, which he reached out and grazed with his fingers.

  “You so seldom leave the wrapping off this prize,” he said as he boldly fingered a curl.

  “Aye, well ‘tis really in need of a good wash,” Brenna said, backing away. Jamie continued to stare as she moved nearer to Bridget.

  Sensing Brenna’s discomfort, the lady winked at her and then turned to the men. “Jamie, would you and Cormac please return the sacks of seed to store, and tend to Brenna’s goats?”

  “With pleasure,” Jamie said with a bow. Then he and Cormac headed toward the barn.

  “I thank you, Bridget. I am not used to men taking such liberties with my person,” Brenna said.

  “Jamie is a good lad. I’m sure he meant no offense,” Bridget said

  “On the contrary”, Fiona winked, “I believe he hoped to flatter you and turn your gaze his way.”

  “’Tis nonsense. I care not for the advances of men.”

  “Then you’d best find a rock to hide beneath,” Bridget laughed, “Not only are you lovely to look upon, but your strong character and even temper make you a very fitting wife.”

  “If that is the case, then you must set tongues wagging, for I seem to have a very wee hold on my temper these days. You look surprised, Anna, but ‘tis true. I’ve yelled at Duncan countless times. I even pulled his hair.”

  “Saints preserve us, an impulsive Brenna,” Anna exclaimed. “I marvel at the possibilities.”

  “Impulsive at least where Duncan is concerned,” Bridget added.

  “I suppose I’ve had my fill of his mistreatment,” Brenna said.

  “I concede he demonstrated poor manners here this morning, but all he does these days is for you, Brenna,” Bridget said. “He passes his nights here to ensure your safety. He provides you with fresh game.”

  Brenna followed Bridget’s eyes to a pair of rabbits hanging near her door.

  “And we are here this morning by Duncan’s request,” Anna said.

  “Aye, but only because he felt badly about my hands. He blames himself for not having taken care of the plow sooner. I told him he was wrong. These are my fields, my responsibility,” Brenna said.

  “Ah, but you are mistaken, my dear,” Bridget smiled. “Duncan asked us three days ago to join him here at daybreak.”

  “Is that true?” Brenna said, turning to the other ladies who all nodded in agreement.

  “He is a foul beast,” Brenna snapped.

  Bridget and Anna both wore the same stunned expression. “What? You both can choose to remain ignorant of Duncan’s true character, but I know the truth. Two days ago, he told me it would be dishonorable to ask the clan for help with my fields, but now I ken he was only trying to manipulate me into surrendering my land.”

  “Duncan is not alone in thinking you should move to the village,” Bridget began. “Many agree you’d be safer, and Duncan would not be so inconvenienced.”

  “Is that what I am to him—an inconvenience? But I have refused his help.” She said, her voice steadily growing louder, but she did not care. “I’ve tried to run him off my land time and again. He persists. If anything ‘tis I who am inconvenienced.”

  “Hellfire, I thought you were jesting earlier,” Anna said. “I hardly recognize you, Brenna, with your wild eyes. ‘Tis a wee bit thrilling to see you riled up.”

  Brenna took a deep breath. “Only you would think so, Anna,” she said and pressed a kiss to her friend’s cheek. Then she turned back to Bridget, a painful question waiting on her lips.

  “Is that your mind as well, Bridget? Do you want me to move to the village?”

  The beautiful lady shook her head. “Nay, lass. I feel your passion for this land. I believe you should follow your heart, although ‘tis certain to come at a cost,” Bridget said, gesturing to Brenna’s bandaged hands. “Sacrifice can always be born when it is suffered for something worthwhile. I sacrificed a great deal to follow my own heart once, and I’ve never regretted it, not for a moment.” Brenna pulled Bridget into a fierce embrace.

  A voice called from atop the hill. Brenna looked up to see Rona waving before she hurried down the slope.

  “Funny you should mention sacrifice, Bridget, because here comes one now.”

  Bridget sighed. “The lass prattles on without stopping to breathe, but she was the most logical choice to aid you. She is not needed at home, and their croft is closest to yours.”

  “I ken why she was chosen, but I shall have to be more careful to avoid injury in the future. She hurts worse than the blisters.”

  “Do not fear,” Bridget winked. “Soon Duncan shall return, which should prove a greater challenge to you than even the most loquacious of lasses.”

  Brenna quirked a brow at Bridget and crossed her arms over her chest as she demanded to know what Bridget meant to imply. But with a shrug and a smile, Bridget took Anna’s hand and motioned for Isobel and Fiona to follow. All four ladies turned away toward the hill. Brenna watched their departure, overcome by the vulnerable feeling that Bridget had once again peered into her soul and spotted Brenna’s confused desire.

  “I am a woman.” she said to herself as she stormed back inside not waiting to greet Rona. “He is a man.” A tall, powerful man with liquid black eyes ablaze with fire and sin. She took a deep breath as she closed the door and leaned against it. Then she remembered Duncan for what he really was—not the man whose tender hands seeped undercurrents of honeyed warmth—but a man whose face twisted with disdain and whose eyes were empty and cold like the final breath of the dying.

  Her body may have betrayed her for a moment, but it was a shell without thought or reason. Her heart and mind were hers alone to control. Control had always been effortless for her. She considered something only long enough to distinguish the right and good response and then the matter was concluded. This incident with Duncan was no different. He despised her and so she naturally disliked him. Yesterday meant nothing, nor would anything similar ever happen again.

  Satisfied, she hurried to begin the morning’s chores. Picking up a bucket, she winced as the handle squeezed her sores. She dropped it and stared at her bandages. In an instant, her mind returned to the dark heat she witnessed in Duncan’s eyes as air from his lips rushed over her open palm, and all at once her conviction fled, replaced by turmoil as thick as the air before a storm.

  What was wrong with her? Where was all this…this feeling coming from? Anna described her as being riled, but this was not riled. This was fury. This was fire. This was entirely unacceptable. She did not do fury and fire. She was even and uncomplicated.

  Plunking down into her chair, she mourned her loss of confidence. Her
gaze moved to her pallet near the hearth, and all at once she was filled with longing to pull the covers over her head and forget about the burgeoning fire deep inside of her.

  A knock sounded at the door before Rona peaked her head inside. “Good Morrow, Brenna. I have so much to tell you. You will not believe the tales I’ve heard.”

  Brenna hid her grimace as she bid Rona enter. And to think, the day had begun with such promise.

  Chapter 7

  Every muscle in Duncan’s body ached as he took another long draught of ale. The great hall of Dun Ara Castle heaved with warriors bent on getting drunk to mask the pain Ronan inflicted with a tortuous day of training. Ronan pushed his warriors to the point of breaking, but they did not struggle alone. He completed every exercise and climbed every cliff alongside his men.

  A part of Duncan longed to join the revelries, but ever since Berwick, it was hard for him to be so lighthearted. Judging by the sober faces worn by Cormac and Jamie, he was not alone in his continued suffering. Besides, Brenna needed him. Draining the last of his ale, Duncan winced as he stood to leave.

  “Something ails you, Duncan,” Ronan asked with a smile. The MacKinnon’s hair was streaked with silver and creases lined his handsome features, but he was still as strong as any other warrior—perhaps more so, owing to his indomitable will.

  “I long for when your age begins to catch up with you, old man. Then perhaps you might ease off a wee bit,” Duncan groaned.

  “Doubtful,” Ronan said. “Where are you running off to? ‘Tis early yet.”

  “I don’t wish for Brenna and Nellore to be alone out there come nightfall.”

  “You’re a good man, Duncan, and a better friend. You’ve shown Ewan great loyalty.”

  Duncan turned away to hide the shame Ronan’s praise made him feel. He doubted Ewan would view Duncan’s longstanding affection for his wife with appreciative eyes.