Highland Brides 03 - On Bended Knee (17 page)

Colin was Colin, and no one could change him now. Seana didn’t even pretend she might be able to heal his troubled heart. His life, to anyone who considered it, seemed filled only with pleasure, and he would likely die with a smile upon his face and some woman’s breast suckled in his mouth.

She frowned at the vision that came to her suddenly.

Well… it wasn’t any of her concern what he did. She couldn’t be the least bit jealous.

Broc was a fine and good man, and Seana would be a fortunate woman if she could manage to win his heart.

Broc could give her everything she ever wanted; a home, children, and security unlike any she’d ever had. Aye, she could do much, much worse than Broc.

“Why so quiet, lass?” Colin murmured at her back.

Seana shrugged. “I am only worried about my da,” she said, and it was the truth. She would not feel such an urgency to wed anyone at all, save that she wanted to give her da a better home. The cairn had served them well enough, but now he was far too frail. Seana was certain he’d never make it through the winter there. He seemed as helpless as a bairn. She leaned to feel for the sack she had tied to the saddle of Colin’s mare, and sighed in relief at finding it still there. Her da had likely not eaten the first bite since she had left him this morn. Guilt suffused her at having abandoned him so long.

“I’m certain he’s fine, Seana.”

It was the first time since he had asked her name that he had spoken it to her, and the sound of it upon his lips, surprised her. She turned to look at him.

Colin would have given much in that instant to know her thoughts.

It felt good to touch her, though for the first time in his life, he was uncertain his embrace was welcomed, and it kept his baser thoughts at bay. He might have allowed himself to savor the scent of her skin, but didn’t dare give himself the pleasure. He might have buried his lips in her hair and let his hands test the weight of it, but didn’t wish to upset her. It didn’t stop him, however, from dwelling upon her mouth… and craving the taste of her lips.

Watching his sister and her husband together had made him yearn for something more than an empty bed come morning. Had he ever spent an entire night with one of his lovers? Had more than stolen moments? He didn’t recall ever seeing a single sunrise in the sleepy arms of his lover. Nay, his kisses had all been hurried, lest he be caught by someone’s father… or brother… even a husband or two.

Colin had vowed never to marry, but suddenly he was rethinking his decision.

The thought of going to bed each night and looking forward to lazy morning kisses with the woman he loved seemed a powerful image for a man who crept into his own bed, alone, long after the sun had gone down, and woke, alone, to the sound of his two troublesome brothers.

Meghan had added a softness to their home, a gentle voice to soothe them after a tiresome day. He missed even her morning tirades, where she came in, berating him for his night’s carousing. But Meghan was gone now, and their home had grown cold. Where his sister had picked flowers to liven his room, the vessel sat now with withering stems protruding from it, surrounded by fallen petals that no one cared enough to clean.

Alison would be there soon, but Colin wasn’t certain which was worse—living with two ornery men, or waking to the sound of his brother and new wife making love within their room.

Not that he begrudged his brother a little happiness, nor did he want Alison for himself, but it would only serve to emphasize his empty bed.

He wasn’t precisely looking forward to it.

The walls were far too thin in that house.

How oft had he fallen asleep, listening to his mother’s weeping?

Too oft.

It had rent his heart, knowing she’d wept for a man who hadn’t deserved her undying love. How many times had he wished to tell her so, and not been able to bring himself to do it?

How many times had he crawled out of his bed, only to watch her from the hall… bury her face in her pillow and weep bitterly over his faithless da… and all the while knowing he was cut from the same cloth.

His da had been hard on him, to be sure—on him and Leith both. Colin understood that his da hadn’t wanted them to become like him. And fortunately for Leith, he had not, though his da’s unrelenting reprehension had neither left him unscarred. Even Meghan and Gavin… both had been far too young to remember their da, but not so young they were not influenced.

How could Colin have blasphemed his da, when he was no better, in truth?

His da must have recognized in Colin the same sickness he’d had within himself, because he’d been hardest toward Colin of all.

Colin tried not to be as his da was, but he struggled in vain. He didn’t know how to be anything else. He was drawn to the same things his da was, and so he understood his da in ways his brothers never could. It was a sickness inside of him. Somehow, it filled a void he didn’t otherwise know how to fill.

He didn’t know if his da had ever loved his minny, but he thought so. And yet he had hurt her, nevertheless. Colin was afraid of doing the same, and so he loved everyone from afar, and no one in truth. And yet he was well aware that somehow he still managed to hurt them. He tried to make them feel good, tried to make them happy, and somehow left them brokenhearted.

“Meghan says I should tell him to his face,” Seana announced.

Colin blinked. “Tell who what?” he asked, momentarily confused.

He had been so lost in his own thoughts.

“Broc… Meghan says I should tell him outright that I love him and that I wish to be his wife.”

Colin winced a bit to hear it put so concisely… not to mention the images that came at once to mind… Seana and Broc together… the very thought was becoming as distasteful to him as the aftertaste of her da’s
uisge
.

“Meghan says that men are too blind to see anythin’ but what they wish to see,” she continued.

Colin rolled his eyes. It sounded just like his shrewish sister. Beautiful Meghan certainly was, but Colin pitied her husband because his baby sister was going to lead him about by his Sassenach nose.

“And Meghan says—”

“Dinna listen to everything Meghan says, lass.”

“Meghan is wonderful!” Seana exclaimed. “Thank you for takin’ me to see her, Colin.” She looked up at him then, and smiled, and Colin’s breath left him for an instant.

Somehow, she grew lovelier every time he saw her, and this moment with the fading sunlight falling across her face, her skin was golden in color, and her green eyes sparkled with an inner light. Her black hair was rich and deep. A few strands tickled his face but he didn’t brush them away, instead he savored the silky feel of it and tried to catch the scent into his lungs.

“Meghan is wonderful,” he agreed, reaching out to brush a few wayward strands of her hair behind her ears, “but so are you, Seana.”

She blinked, and seemed surprised by his declaration. Her lashes lowered. He reached out and lifted her face to his.

“’Tis true,” he insisted, when she would not look at him. He knew what she was thinking, and loathed the child he had been, that he could wound a person as lovely as Seana so terribly that she could not see herself as she truly was. He didn’t believe for one instant he had been alone in his cruel tyranny against her, but he had certainly wounded her enough that she had never forgotten… and neither had he.

“You’re lovely, Seana,” he assured her. And though it wrenched his gut to say so, he added, “And Broc would be a fortunate man to have you. He’ll be a stupid man if he does not carry ye away at once to his bed.”

She winced at his words, and he thought perhaps the prospect of the marriage bed frightened her.

Her cheeks pinkened; he could see the color rising even in the fading light.

“Not every marriage is based upon
that
, Colin Mac Brodie!” she exclaimed. “Do you never think of anything else? Och!”

Colin laughed softly, and confessed honestly, “Nay, lass.”

“Men!” she declared, though Colin knew very well she meant him.

“There is naught so wrong with making love.”

“That,” she countered, “is not all there is to love!”

“I beg to differ. Do not tell me that you are afraid of a lover’s touch, Seana. Och, but ye dinna strike me as a woman who is afraid of much.”

“Of course not!” She turned away from him, stiffening.

“But if ye are, o’ course… I can surely help with that!” Colin smiled at her back.

She cast him a glance over her shoulder. “I’m quite certain! I am not,” she swore, and Colin wanted very much to do just that—he wanted to be the first to show her pleasure, wanted to make up for all the wrong he’d done… he wanted to give to her, and for the first time in his life he didn’t care what she had to give back. That elusive smile of hers was reward enough.

“The only help I need from you, is the one thing you will not give!”

What would she do if he put his arms about her waist? Would she push him away?

He didn’t dare try.

He leaned forward to smell her hair. “Aye?” Colin asked, “And what might that be, lass?”

She turned once more, catching him far too near, and Colin pretended to find something in her hair. He plucked it out… though there was naught there.

Her brows knit. “What was that?”

Colin shook his head. “A bug mayhap, ’tis gone now. And you were saying?”

She gave him a puzzled glance, though his explanation seemed to satisfy her well enough. “I want to know about Broc. What sort of woman does he like?”

Colin thought about that a moment. God’s truth, he’d never heard Broc Ceannfhionn mention a woman ever at all… save for his laird’s new wife…

He truly didn’t know what sort of woman Broc enjoyed, but would he honestly tell her even if he did?

“He likes pale-haired women,” Colin said, knowing very well she was not. He peeked around at her breasts. Nice and full, perky, too, but hardly large. Perfect for his own hands. “With ample breasts,” he added.

He felt her stiffen before him, and he smiled.

“What else?”

“A sturdy back,” he replied, trying to keep a sober expression. “To work hard. He does not like frail women.”

“I’m not such a wee one!” she protested.

Colin smiled. “I did not say you were, now did I?” Silence fell between them an instant, as she considered his revelations. “Oh, and blue eyes,” he added, though he hadn’t the least notion what sort of eyes appealed most to his friend. He only knew that Seana had green eyes… lovely green… the sort he could stare into for the rest of his life.

“What color are mine exactly?” she asked, and turned to face him, her expression hopeful. “Mayhap a little blue?”

He shook his head regretfully. “Not at all, I fear.”

She sighed, and turned away.

“He likes them more like Page,” he added then, just for good measure, though in truth, he had not the first inkling what color Iain’s MacKinnon’s wife’s eyes were.

She turned to look at him once more, blinking. “He likes Iain’s wife?”

“Aye,” Colin answered, nodding soberly. “Almost as much as he likes his dog.”

She screwed her face adorably, and Colin wanted nothing more in that instant than to kiss the bridge of her nose and tell her not to worry, that she was lovely, but he didn’t. No way was he going to spoil his handiwork.

“His dog?”

Colin nodded. “The true love of his life.”

Seana’s brows collided. She cocked her head suspiciously, and stared at him. “Are you teasing me?”

Colin merely smiled.

“Wretch!” she said, and turned around.

He chuckled at her back.

They left the hillside then, and entered the woodlands. He wasn’t certain precisely where she lived. He asked, but her reply was vague.

“Just leave me here,” she directed him, when they had reached the place where her father left his pot still, and seemed antsy for him to stop. Colin did and she leapt down from his mount. She at once untied the sack she had attached to his saddle and thanked him profusely for the day.

Colin wasn’t ready to say good night. Not quite yet. “Wait!” he said, but she shook her head, turned, and fled.

“I’ll see ye come morn!” she shouted back at him and once again slipped into the shadows of the woods.

Colin sat there, feeling as though he should follow, to be certain she made it safely home.

But she obviously didn’t want him to, and he assured himself she knew these woods as intimately as he knew his lovers’ bodies. He let her go, though reluctantly, and consoled himself with the knowledge that he would again see her on the morrow.

Seana didn’t really know why it suddenly bothered her so much so that she lived in what was basically an oversized grave. Until now, it had seemed perfectly suitable and she hadn’t worried much what others thought.

She’d been sleeping in the old cairn for as long as she could recall. Her da had found the monstrous tomb before Seana’s birth. Initially, it had served as shelter from a storm, but her da and her ma had never left it.

Then her mother had grown ill and Seana had come into the world, and her ma had passed away. She and her father had been here ever since.