Highland Thunder (Isle of Mull Series) Page 8

  Chapter 9

  She awoke the next morning with clenched fists, her mind heavy with resolve. She did not know what new game Duncan played, but she would not lose sight of what was most important to her: Nellore and her land.

  She knew going forward she had to strive to be less volatile in his presence. Lately, her temper soared and now this new problem. She remembered the rush of sensation that filled her limbs, her stomach quaking with excitement as his body drew close behind hers. She remembered his scent and the husky softness of his voice in her ear and his warm breath on her neck. Her chest tightened as her body betrayed her once again.

  She shook her head. Such thoughts served only to distract from the pressing matter of uncovering his motives. She could only assume that his strange behavior had something to do with trying to manipulate her to move to the village.

  Then something appalling occurred to her for the first time. Perhaps Duncan wanted the land for himself and would stop at nothing to drive her off. He shamed her and confused her to weaken her resolve. She sat up and turned to wake Nellore, but she was gone. Panic seized her heart as she leapt to her feet and hurried to the door, which she swung open to a scene that brought her momentary relief.

  Duncan was feigning a swift run across the yard while Nellore gave chase. Her squeals of laughter and delight lit her green eyes, and her cheeks carried a pink bloom from her effort. She grabbed his plaid from behind.

  “You did it, lass,” Duncan laughed as he fell to the ground. “You’ve caught the giant.”

  Nellore fell on his stomach as she continued to giggle with impish delight. Duncan tickled her, then scooped her up and jumped to his feet. As he tossed her high in the air, she squealed and laughed with the hysteria known only to children.

  Brenna laughed out loud at the sight of her daughter’s unabashed joy. It filled her heart with pleasure and her eyes with grateful tears.

  “Mama,” Nellore called when she saw her standing in the doorway. Brenna crouched down and waited for her daughter to fling herself into her arms. Wrapping her in a tight hug, Brenna stood and placed quick kisses all over her cheeks and black curls. When Nellore started to squirm for release, Brenna put her tiny feet on the ground. She ran as fast as her wee legs would carry her and threw herself at Duncan. He scooped her up and tossed her again in the air as he walked toward Brenna.

  “Good morrow,” he said. His dark eyes crinkled with a smile, and for the first time she noticed a dimple on one cheek that lent his features a boyish charm. She could not speak. How many faces could one man have? Now he was a gentle giant who played with children and had a dimple of all things. Her brow furrowed as she stared, waiting for his usual aloof shrug, but his expectant gaze never wavered.

  She reached for Nellore and then backed away, suspicion guiding her actions. She continued to back through the doorway never taking her eyes off of him. Then she slowly shut the door but for a crack through which she continued to stare him down.

  “Brenna, you needn’t be afraid,” he said.

  She flung the door wide. “I needn’t be afraid? You’ve been nothing but cold and dismissive since first we met. For years, I’ve born your indifference and more than once your malice.” Then her voice dropped to a whisper. “And what of yesterday with your feigned attraction to my person?” Before he could answer, she threw her hand up. She thought better of discussing what should be forgotten. “Suffice it to say I know the truth behind your actions. But I am a woman grown, able to recognize your blatant manipulation. But what of Nellore?”

  “What of Nellore?” he snapped. “I’ve done naught but play with the child.”

  “Precisely my point. You have the audacity to make my daughter happier than she has been in weeks. I am many things right now, Duncan, but afraid I am not.”

  Duncan stared at the door, which moments before was slammed in his face. At first, her offensive accusations provoked his temper. Did she think him so dishonorable he would stoop to use her desire as a weapon for gain? And what of Nellore? Did she truly believe his affection for the child was mere artifice?

  With his face set in a dark scowl, he moved to push the door open, but then he froze. Tension fled from his shoulders as his anger dissipated, and he stepped back.

  Why would she believe anything other than the worst of him? Her words reflected an unfeeling man who showed her little regard over the years—an accurate picture of the man he allowed her to see.

  To protect his own wasted heart, he had done everything in his power to show her as little care as he could. She knew nothing of the constancy of his affection. Each morning, he had awoken determined to find release from the pain of loving someone from afar. And each day, behind a cool mask of indifference, he had glimpsed her strength, her courage, her boundless compassion, and he had felt adoration coil tighter around his heart. His aloof façade never wavered—he did not trust his passion to stay beneath the surface. If he had offered her friendship or warmth of any kind, she would have seen the love he harbored come through in his eyes and in his smile.

  He should have found another way, fought against his affection, trusted in his restraint more, although recent events did prove he had been right to be cautious. He entered her home last night seeking to mend the rift between them, but her nearness assaulted more than his body, more than his heart; it struck that which sustains life, his breath and his soul.

  Their intimacy enflamed his blood, scorching his body as though the full length of seven years of longing rushed to the fore, seeking fulfillment at last. Never had he stood before her with eyes wide open, his heart unguarded. Despite knowing he should regret having touched her, kissed her, he did not, for the longing he felt was mirrored in her eyes. The shock of her desire almost made him drop to his knees, astonishment like finding one’s heart’s desire washed up along shore.

  Nonetheless, she could not know the trueness of his affection. The purity of the love he bore her still lay hidden beneath a ruse he had yet to remove. What had been the most fulfilling moments of his life were to her, a source of confusion, causing her to distrust him all the more.

  She clearly decided last night was only a wicked attempt on his part to take from her—what he could not say. She said she believed he fabricated his attraction; thus, she did not accuse him of simply being a dishonorable man bent on attacking her virtue. What else did she assume he was after if not her? She was what he always wanted. Shame fell on his shoulders like a dark cloud as he turned from her door.

  He cursed with frustration and self-loathing. He did not know the right course of action. Ewan was dead, and now he finally could woo her for his own, but it felt so wrong. Ewan’s heart was torn open by an axe to save Duncan’s life so that Duncan might steal his wife? Because of Ewan’s sacrifice, he stood to gain his heart’s desire.

  Even if he could win her heart, he didn’t deserve her. He had coveted her from a distance, hungered for her and then dismissed her as one would a servant or a petulant child whenever she was near. He wanted to do penance for his sins; that much he knew with certainty, but first he had to earn her trust, which meant he had to control both his temper and his desire. He groaned as he prayed for strength.

  A figure coming down the hill caught his eye. Rona called out a greeting, waving excitedly.

  “Bloody hell,” he heard Brenna curse from within her hut. “I cannot suffer her company for another day.”

  Duncan chuckled as he hurried to intercept Rona. “Good morrow, Rona. Is your family well?”

  “Indeed they are and good morrow to you, Duncan.”

  “’Tis glad I am to hear, but I’m afraid it has not been such a good morning here.” Rona’s eyes widened in concern as she hurried to move past him, but he gently grabbed her arm. “Nay, lass. They are in no danger. Nellore took with a fever last night and is on the mend, but with all the wee ones in your home, I think it best if you stayed away,” he said.

  “But how will she nurse Nellore alone and see to the chores?” Ro
na asked.

  “Do not fret. I shall see to their needs but come back on the morrow. I’m sure Nellore will be better by then,” he said.

  “If you are certain, Duncan. Please do not hesitate to fetch me should the need arise.”

  “My thanks, Rona, and I thank you for all you’ve done over these last few days,” he smiled. Rona blushed from his praise. Then she hurried back up the hill.

  Brenna threw open the door and raced outside. “Where is she going? What did you say to her?” She gave him an accusing stare. “I suppose you were just being your naturally rude self.”

  “On the contrary, I praised her efforts but told her she was not needed today. I thought you might enjoy a day’s reprieve from her chatter, but alas, she will return on the morrow.”

  “But I’ve washing to do; we are fresh out of bannock, and Nellore’s tunic needs mending. Despite how tedious her company may be, I need her help. Go after her, Duncan,” she said.

  “Nay, lass. I shall help you today.”

  “You?” she said. “Perhaps I did not speak plainly enough just now. Permit me to try again. I do not care for your company,” she said but continued in a softer voice. “You make me feel… less certain about myself.”

  The vulnerable honesty of her words struck his heart like a pounding fist. He took a deep breath.

  “Forgive me, Brenna. I know I’ve not been the friend you deserve.” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration as he searched for the words to right the wrongs of the past. Then he took hold of her hand and smiled. “Let us start over again, Brenna.”

  She pulled her hand from his grasp. “I am not a young maid easily swayed by a smile and a tender touch. I do not ken why you seek this change. For years, your behavior toward me has been less than gracious without justification. Can you refute this?”

  “Nay, I cannot.”

  “And what’s worse, you’ve shown me little mercy over recent months: a time when most have shown me sympathy. In the least, you should have stayed your tongue out of pity alone, but instead you’ve been your cruelest.”

  “Aye, Brenna, I’ve much to atone for.” He let his hands rest at his sides. He stood tall and looked her straight in the eye. “I am not asking for your trust, only the opportunity to earn it.”

  She stared at him for some moments. Then she turned back toward her hut. As she retreated, cold dread stiffened his limbs as he again searched for the right words to sway her mind. He considered telling her the truth—she was the breath that fed his body. She existed so that the world held something worthy enough for the sun to shine upon.

  He took a deep breath ready to bare his soul, but then she stopped and looked back at him. “Are you coming?” she said.

  His heart lay on his tongue. Words he swallowed time and again ached for release. But he looked into her eyes and silenced his heart. Her gaze held suspicion, agonizing vulnerability and something that cut him deeper than her disdain ever could—hope.

  For the first time, he saw beyond her courage and her indomitable strength. He saw her fear and loneliness.

  He smiled to show his gratitude for the invitation. Then he followed her inside.

  “So you plan to do my washing?” she said.

  “Aye,” he laughed. “I am your servant, lass.”

  “Can you sew well enough to mend Nellore’s tunic? I do not want her wearing a mess.”

  Duncan’s hand flew to his heart, and he cringed as though her words stung. “I am an islander, a sailor. By my troth, I needle a fine stitch,” he said. Then he walked toward her. “But first allow me to appraise how your hands are healing.”

  “Nay,” she said too quickly as her hands flew behind her back. “You just keep your distance, Duncan MacKinnon.”

  Putting his hands out in front of him, he approached her as he would a spooked mare. “Easy, lass. I am not going to hurt you. Those bandages are filthy. I smell the fish you were chopping yesterday.”

  “Aye,” she said as she moved to stand behind the table. “I remember the fish yesterday too. I also remembered what happened when you offered to help. Stay back.”

  “I merely sought to aid,” he said as he drew closer, making his way around the table. “I promise to behave.”

  “Do not take another step. Already your eyes have a glint I do not trust,” she said.

  He stopped and a smile spread across his face. “Are you certain ‘tis not yourself you mistrust?”

  Her reaction did not disappoint. Her mouth fell open in shock. Then her face turned almost as red as her hair. Fury claimed her features as her eyes narrowed and the stubborn set of her jaw snapped shut. She stormed around the table as she tore at her bandages. Then she thrust her bare hands in his face.

  “I accept your aid,” she said.

  He smiled, “As you wish, lass.”

  He took her hands and led her to the table. Pulling out a chair, he motioned for her to sit. She complied, resting on the edge with a rigid back and one foot pointing toward the door. He glimpsed the shiny waves peeking out from beneath her scarf. Her torso tempted his hands with its gentle curves and sleek length. Her now familiar scent awoke the desire he fought to suppress. He swallowed the apprehension that tightened his throat. He dared her to submit to his care, and now that his hands were about to touch her, he began to worry about his earlier promise to behave.

  Just then he felt a tug on his plaid. He looked down to see two big, green eyes smiling up at him. Resisting the urge to sigh with relief, he reached down and scooped Nellore into his arms.

  “Good lass,” he whispered. Then with one hand, he gathered the salve and some clean linen.

  The lass’s laughter broke the thread of tension. Duncan settled down beside Brenna with Nellore in his lap. A wave of relief washed over Brenna’s features. She leaned close and gave her daughter a kiss.

  Duncan lifted Brenna’s hand for a closer inspection. “Your skin heals quickly.” He turned her hand over and studied her palm. “I see no infection, but your fingers reek of fish.”

  She swatted his shoulder playfully. “’Tis not as bad as all that,” she said. Then she sniffed her fingers and frowned. “For once, I shall not argue. ‘Tis offensive. How did I not notice?”

  “Perhaps you were distracted by something else,” Duncan said as he caught her gaze. She blushed and looked away. He bathed her hands and then applied a thick layer of salve before wrapping her wounds in fresh bandages.

  “Why did you not ask Rona to clean the fish?” he asked.

  Brenna laughed. “I sent her away. The stench of fish is preferable to the lass’s company.”

  “Her chatter never ceases,” he said, smiling.

  “Never,” she said. “But that I could tolerate. ‘Tis her mother I cannot abide.”

  “I was unaware of Margaret’s visit,” he said.

  “Margaret has never before stepped foot in my hut. She claims the hill would be too taxing, yet, I tell you, Duncan, she’s here every day. Apparently, she disapproves most heartily of every decision I’ve ever made from how I wear my hair to my mothering of Nellore, even to my treatment of you.”

  “It might relieve you to know Margaret condemns us all. So what offense have I committed now?” he said

  “You? Nay, Duncan, you are a saint. ‘Tis I who am wicked, having forced you to sleep out of doors, exposing you to the balmy summer nights.”

  “She has championed me then?” he said.

  “Aye. You have Margaret to thank for your fine accommodations,” Brenna began. “If it were not for the lady’s harping, you’d still be sleeping under the stars.”

  “It would seem I am in Margaret’s debt. I must offer my thanks when next I see her.”

  “Don’t you dare, Duncan. If that awful woman believes I’ve heeded her advice, I’ll be forced to suffer her council for the rest of my days. A worse fate I cannot imagine.”

  Duncan finished knotting the bandages. “You need not worry. I go to great lengths to avoid Margaret’s company. �
��Tis sorry I am that Rona distresses you so, because she will return on the morrow. I am leaving for at least a fortnight, and your hands will need to remain covered for a few days longer.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Where are you going?”

  “Just away, but Ronan will expand the watch to include your land. I’ve also instructed Kenneth’s youngest brother, Liam, to sleep in the barn and make sure you have all you need. He’s a good lad and strong despite his age. You’ve naught to fear.”

  She turned her gaze to the window, her mouth set in a grim line. “You dismissed my question as though I were a child.” She grabbed Nellore and headed for the door. Before leaving, she turned and said, “Trust begins as respect, Duncan.”

  Duncan hesitated. It never occurred to him that Brenna might ask where he was going. He had no brothers or sisters. His mother had died when he was a lad. It had been years since someone had concerned themselves with his whereabouts.

  He stepped outside and spotted Nellore playing near the forest. Brenna had removed her scarf and was dipping it into the river. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Water sluiced from the fabric as she wrung it out. Then she pressed it to her cheeks and neck. He came up behind her.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  “My skin is on fire. ‘Tis a hot day,” she said.

  Her words flooded his mind with images of her skin, hot and slick with sweat. Her hair tangled in wild disarray, her lips, bruised by his kiss, making a trail of heat down his throat.

  “God’s blood,” he swore.

  “What have I done now,” she said, glaring at him from her place by the river.