Page 35

Broc

Broc took Merryn’s hand as they strode outside the gates around the castle and down toward the sea. “There’s a beautiful spot where you can see the water in three directions.”

Merryn had gotten Shealee down for her nap and as soon as she entered the hall, Broc had been waiting for her. He’d hoped to get her alone for a wee bit.

He found a spot covered in leaves and motioned for Merryn to sit. Once she was settled, he sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around her to warm her. “The morrow could be a big day. It could be the end of our troubles.”

“Or the beginning of more troubles. But I hope you are right.”

“Alasdair and John’s patrol leave for MacVey’s and the mainland. Simone and Artan leave for Mingary Castle. I hope they can uncover exactly where my mother and the two bairns are located.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I hope so too. Do you know why?”

“Besides the obvious? Getting your mother and the bairns home?”

“Aye. I’d like to have some calm over Duart Castle so I can explore the lass who is sitting next to me.” He lifted the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I feel we rarely have any time alone.”

“I know. But …”

“What?” He had no idea what she was about to say.

“I was alone for nearly the last year. I had my brother and Shealee, but it was me and the men. Euna and Olivia came along, but Euna is much older. Does it make me sound selfish if I say I enjoy being here and making new friends with lasses? I love watching Shealee make friends. She adores them all. And I’ve so enjoyed learning how to read with you, how to shoot arrows with Eli and Dyna, how to cook fruit tarts …

I’ve learned so much watching all the people here in Clan Grantham.

It’s quite a mixture, and you’ve been here such a short time. You’ve all accomplished much together.”

“We have. I do love my clan and our allies. And we have new ones here on Mull. MacVeys, Rankins, MacQuaries.”

“Is it always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Is there always some battle going on? Is it ever quiet?”

He chuckled, squeezing her hand. “Quiet? Nay. There are many times when there is no battle to fight. But we train hard.”

“I want this to end, but I don’t want it to …

I feel bad even speaking my mind. But the thought of returning to build our castle with a few men where we are open to attack doesn’t suit me well either.

It was too quiet and unsafe.” Then she ran her finger down his jawline and across his lower lip. “And I’ll miss you so much.”

Broc could see the misting in her eyes. “We don’t have to go our separate ways. What if …”

“What?” she asked.

“What if we married? We could be together forever.” He noticed the shock in her face and nearly jumped up. “I’m sorry. That was the wrong thing to say. It’s too soon, is it not?”

“Nay. Don’t leave me now. I liked what you said.” She pulled him close and lay back in the leaves. Broc lay carefully next to her, propping his weight on his elbows.

He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her lower lip. “Merryn, you are so beautiful. I shouldn’t have said anything like that. It’s not the proper way to propose to someone.”

“What is the proper way?” she asked as she reached for him, pulling him closer.

He settled himself over her and whispered, “The proper way is to ask you. Will you marry me, Merryn MacClane? Make me the happiest man on Mull?” His heartbeat sped up, but only because he had the sudden fear that she would turn him down.

He loved her for seeing him for who he was, faults and all.

But lasses wanted heroes, and he had no idea how to become one.

“Aye, Broc MacNicol. I would love to be your wife. Spend our lives together building a new one. Having bairns and getting to know your clan.”

Broc was so pleased with her answer that he thought his heart would pound through his chest. He leaned down, his lips descending on hers, and he lost all sense of restraint.

He kissed her hard, his tongue teasing hers as he angled his mouth, deepening the kiss.

Her hands wrapped around his neck, caressing his skin in a slow tease that he found oddly tantalizing.

She wanted him, and she didn’t care that he was scarred. But he had to know one more thing. He sat up and said, “Merryn, I have to show you something.”

She pushed herself up on her elbows. “What?”

“I have to know your thoughts. It would not be fair if I did not … Well, I’ll just show you.”

He lifted his tunic enough to show her the angry welt he still carried on his torso.

It sat on one side, but he couldn’t bear to have her look at it in disgust on their wedding night.

If she was going to be repulsed, he had to know now.

He watched her expression as she looked at it, waiting for her face to change to revulsion.

Except she didn’t.

Her fingers touched him, the tenderest touch he’d ever felt, and she stared up at him. “Broc, this doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s part of what has made you who you are. And I love you just the way you are.” Then she bent down and kissed the middle of the scar.

He’d finally found the one for him.

“I love you too, Merryn.”