Page 52

brODIE WAS SHOEING Brèagha when the lilt of feminine voices and laughter reached him. Glancing up, he spied Bonnie, Rose, and Greer, walking across the barmkin toward the gate.

As usual, Captain Errol walked in their wake.

Brodie’s mouth curved at the long-suffering look on the captain’s face.

Since his arrival here, he’d passed his days shadowing Lady Greer on her many outings.

Usually, the women spent their afternoons locked away in their solar working on their many sewing and weaving projects.

However, today they’d altered their routine a little to take a late afternoon stroll—unsurprising, for the day was a beautiful one.

Glancing up at the blue sky, Brodie wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

They’d had days of glorious weather, unsullied by a spot of rain, cloud, or cold wind.

It had gotten so hot that Brodie had taken some time off from the forge.

He’d been exhausted too and in need of a break.

He’d just returned from visiting Lennox.

The two brothers had gone hunting west of Loch Lussa, and Brodie came home refreshed.

Brèagha nudged him then, and he stepped close, stroking the mare’s neck and ruffling her forelock. She’d enjoyed the last few days although she’d thrown a shoe on the way home.

After a moment, his attention shifted back to the women.

As usual, Greer was at the heart of the group, causing all the noise and merriment.

Above, men turned from their posts on the walls to watch the women, as did two of the lads carting out muck from the stables.

Yet there was just one of the three ladies that caught Brodie’s attention this afternoon.

Lady Greer’s wheat-colored hair glinted in the warm sunlight. Her skin was lightly tanned from the good weather and all her outings from the broch, and she wore a dove-grey surcote that hugged her delicious curves.

All the curves that Brodie had been in close quarters with of late.

Curves he’d found impossible to ignore.

They’d been training for nearly a fortnight, and despite some initial reluctance to teach Lady Greer how to wield a dirk, he’d found himself enjoying their sparring. In the beginning, he’d been deliberately hard on her. But his student was tenacious.

Lady Greer had persevered, and before he’d gone away to Loch Lussa, Brodie had been impressed with how she’d improved. They still fought with wooden dirks—it was safer for both of them—yet she’d learned how to move lightly, and how to dodge his strikes and launch effective counter-strikes.

And while he’d been visiting Lennox and Davina, Brodie had found himself missing his and Greer’s early morning sessions. On the days he taught her, he noticed his mood was much mellower afterward. There was something about starting the day in the company of a bright and beautiful woman.

Greer Forbes had a smile to light up the world—and there were times when Brodie would find himself staring at her, captivated by her warmth and sunny disposition.

As he was now.

She looked Brodie’s way, and their gazes fused.

To Brodie’s surprise, she said something hurriedly to her companions and ushered them on, before doing the same with Captain Errol. Then Greer made her way across the barmkin toward him.

And as she approached, Brodie’s pulse started to race.

God’s blood, what was the matter with him these days? He’d let Lady Greer catch him staring at her like a halfwit. That wasn’t his way with women. In the past, his brothers had teased him that Brodie didn’t need to pursue lasses, for they flocked to him like moths around a candle flame.

And those who thought they’d ensnare him got their wings burned.

In the past, lasses had come and gone from Brodie’s life, and he couldn’t have cared less. Aye, it was callous, but that was the way he liked it.

It was almost as if Greer Forbes had been sent to teach him a lesson. She shattered his composure and brought every old insecurity to the surface.

And, still, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Good day, Brodie,” she greeted him, and the huskiness of her voice shot straight to his groin. Lord help him, his rod stiffened, fire kindling in the pit of his gut.

“Greetings, Lady Greer,” he said, masking his discomfort with terseness.

His sullen response didn’t bother her though. She knew by now that his bark was worse than his bite.

Moving closer, she reached out and stroked Brèagha’s nose. The mare gave a soft whicker and lifted her head, her nostrils flaring as she gently blew on Greer’s face.

The lass giggled. “I’m pleased to see ye too.”

“Ye have a way with horses,” Brodie noted, surprised by Brèagha’s response. The mare was bonded to him and didn’t tolerate others half as well.

Greer flashed him a smile that made the heat in his belly flare red-hot. “I might have slipped her a carrot or two in the past weeks,” she admitted. “I fear I have shamelessly bought yer horse’s affection.”

Brodie couldn’t help it; he smiled.

Their gazes held then, and suddenly Brodie could feel his heart thumping.

Satan’s cods, this wasn’t good.

Aye, he and Greer had been aware of each other from the first moment they’d met. Yet there was something else building between them now—something dangerous.

Staring at her, Brodie found himself focusing on Greer’s mouth. Her lips were soft and full. He wagered she tasted like sweet clover honey, and that her soft body would fit perfectly against his, especially as he—

Stop it.

Brodie reined himself in savagely, his hands clenching at his sides.

Shite—it had been far too long since he’d tumbled a woman if he was having such thoughts about Lady Greer. The lass was frivolous and silly. She talked too much, smiled too much, and viewed the world through a gilded veil.

To her, he was just entertainment. A jape to pass the time while she was at Dun Ugadale. Once she departed, she would forget him instantly, and he’d be wise to take the same approach.

“I’m looking forward to our next lesson,” Greer said brightly then. “Tomorrow morn, as usual?”

Heart pounding now, Brodie broke eye contact. This was his chance to sever their relationship, to tell Greer he wasn’t teaching her any longer.

But before he had the chance, a horn rang from the ramparts above.

Brodie looked to where Kerr now strode along the wall. “Who is it?” he called up to his brother.

“I don’t know yet,” Kerr shouted back. “But a group of warriors is riding in from the west.”

“Really?” Greer picked up her skirts and hurried over to the steps leading up to the wall. She then raced to the top. “Let’s take a look!”

Muttering a curse under his breath, Brodie left his horse and followed her. If she wasn’t careful, the lass would trip and tumble to her death.

Climbing onto the wall, Brodie strode west to where Greer stood next to Kerr. They were both staring down, watching a company of horses thunder down the hill toward the broch. They were moving fast, traveling with urgency.

“Is something amiss?” Brodie asked, halting at his brother’s shoulder.

“I’m not sure,” Kerr murmured, his gaze never leaving the riders. “We aren’t expecting any visitors.”

“Wait … they’re wearing clan sashes,” Greer announced. She was leaning over the wall as far as she dared, her gaze narrowed. She then inhaled sharply.

“What?” Kerr demanded, turning to her.

Greer drew back from the ramparts. Her pert face, usually so sunny, was now solemn, her steel eyes shadowed.

Brodie frowned. “Lady Greer?”

A nerve flickered in her cheek, and she held his gaze for a heartbeat. When she replied, her voice was subdued. “It’s my father.”

Waiting in the barmkin, hands folded demurely before her, with Captain Errol standing like a sentinel at her side, Greer watched the company of men on horseback clatter into the cobbled space.

As she’d spied earlier, many of them wore sashes of black and dark green. And, of course, she’d recognized the plaid instantly, even from afar.

She’d also recognized the big, blocky man riding at the head of the company, his greying wheaten-colored hair streaming in the wind.

And when she had, her heart had dropped like a stone.

Why the devil had Alexander Forbes ridden all this way?

Worry swamped her as Greer’s father drew his horse up. Had something happened at home? Was her mother unwell?

The Forbes clan-chief’s grey eyes scanned the barmkin before coming to rest upon her. His expression softened a fraction at the sight of his daughter. “Greer.” His powerful voice rumbled across the barmkin. “I’m pleased ye are here to meet me.”

“Good day, Da,” she greeted him before clearing her throat. “This is a surprise.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Aye, I imagine it is.”

“Is something amiss back at Druminnor?”

“Not at all.”

With that, the clan-chief swung down from his courser and threw the reins to one of his men. He then cast a gaze around him.

His mouth pursed as if he wasn’t impressed.

Greer’s pulse quickened. Of course, he would be comparing this eyrie-like broch with the sturdy square lines of Druminnor. She could feel his judgment rippling toward her.

An uncharacteristic arrow of resentment pierced her, now that she knew her family were all well. She still had just under six weeks to go until her time here was up. Couldn’t ye give me this one thing ? All I asked for was one summer.

A throat cleared behind her then before Kerr Mackay approached. His expression was welcoming although his sea-blue gaze was wary. “Welcome, Forbes.”

Greer’s father swiveled around to meet him, his brow furrowing. “And ye are?”

“Captain Kerr Mackay of the Dun Ugadale Guard … and brother to the laird.”

Greer cast a glance over her shoulder, looking for Brodie. He’d deliberately hung back and still stood, arms folded across his chest, next to his horse.

When she glanced back at her father, Greer was relieved that his haughty expression had softened a little. “Good day, Captain,” he replied with a nod. “And my apologies for not sending word ahead … this was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

“Ye are welcome, nonetheless,” Kerr replied with a polite smile. He then glanced over his shoulder, beckoning Brodie forward. The blacksmith did as bid, although not without a frown. “This is another of the laird’s brothers … Brodie.”

Alexander Forbes raked an assessing gaze down Brodie before giving a dismissive nod. Meanwhile, Brodie stared back at him, his brow still furrowed.

Queasiness filtered over Greer.

She didn’t like to see Brodie treated so contemptuously—especially by her own kin.

“I will let Iver know he has guests,” Brodie said gruffly. Then, without another word, he turned and crossed to the steps leading into the broch.

Kerr watched his brother leave, and when he turned back to Greer’s father, his expression was strained. “Rest assured, accommodation will be arranged for ye and yer men.”

“Good.” The Forbes clan-chief favored Kerr with a thin smile. “In the meantime, I shall make myself comfortable in yer hall with a cup of yer finest ale … and await the chieftain.”