Page 22 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander (Falling for Highland Villains #5)

CHAPTER 22

Brodrick and Ava swayed to the music, their bodies moving in sync with one another. It felt pleasant, normal, almost ordinary. As if they had done this before. As if they had done it a million times.

“I suppose the dance did help ye, after all,” Brodrick muttered, ignoring the array of people surrounding them as they moved across the dance floor. His focus was on Ava and Ava alone.

“I am certain I would have learned one way or another if you didn’t teach me,” she fired back, her voice just as low.

“Nay one would have taught ye better than a laird, though.”

“That is debatable… My Laird.”

Brodrick’s grip tightened on her waist as they twirled around, ignoring the world, the people, all the faces around them.

“Nay, it isnae. ‘Tis just facts.”

“And I am telling you that I would have learned it one way or another.”

“Ye ken, ‘tis nae good manners to argue with the Laird.”

“Oh, is that so? What would happen if I do?”

“Well, typically, ye get punished.”

Ava’s eyes twinkled, briefly reflecting the nearby candlelight. “Is that what you plan to do to me, My Laird? Punish me?”

A smirk tugged at Brodrick’s lips. “If I have to, I will.”

“And how, pray tell, will you punish me?”

Brodrick leaned closer to her, his lips grazing the bottom of her ear. His whispers felt warm, and tingly, causing goosebumps to run down Ava’s body.

“Let us go to me study, and I shall show ye how.”

Ava smiled.

“Lead the way, M’Laird.” She whispered in response, taking a quick glance around the great hall. Brodrick did the same as well, his heart beating so fast it would break out of his chest. No one paid them any attention so far so he didn't think anyone would even notice if they snuck out of his room.

He was right. No one did.

* * *

Ava pushed the study door shut right before Brodrick pressed her against it and slammed his lips against her own. The kiss was desperate, searching, seeking. As if every word they wanted to say to each other could only be expressed that way.

Brodrick’s hands roamed over every inch of her body, looking for something to hold, something to grab onto. It was like he wanted to melt into her and become one with her.

A gargled moan escaped Ava’s lips as he moved his lips away from hers, down her chin, and across her neck. Her head lolled back, and she closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his lips caressing her skin, making it tingle.

Almost like it had started, the kiss suddenly stopped.

Ava tensed, and Brodrick noticed almost immediately. His hands dropped to his sides as he stepped back and took a look at her, an expression of utter confusion on his face.

“What just happened, lass?”

Ava shook her head. “Don’t you think this is all a little too… fast?”

“’Tis nae our first time, is it?”

Ava rubbed her eyes. “I know. I know. It’s why this makes it more complicated.”

It dawned on Brodrick, before she could even say it, exactly what she was talking about. He turned and headed to his desk, his eyes catching the flames dancing in the hearth.

“Ye’re leavin’ soon,” he whispered, almost as if the words were forbidden. Like the name of a mage he wasn’t supposed to utter.

“Yes. That is why I’m beginning to think this whole thing is a bad idea. Our time together is temporary. And I think it’ll only hurt more when it ends. We need— I need to start preparing for that. And I need to start doing that now.”

Brodrick nodded absently, almost like everything she was saying was not registering. “So, what do ye want to do?”

Ava moved closer to him, the sadness in her eyes piercing enough to penetrate even the hardest of souls. She leaned in and planted a firm kiss on his cheek. He didn’t recoil or move away. He just remained in the same spot, frozen. And he took it.

“Goodnight, My Laird,” she whispered and turned around.

Watching her walk away was so terrifyingly haunting that Brodrick had to look somewhere, anywhere but at her.

He heard the door click open, and just as soon, he heard it close. Silence descended over the room, making the ringing in his ears louder.

For the first time, Brodrick let himself entertain the thought of her leaving and how much it would wreck him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

* * *

The week following the cèilidh was hell for Ava, but it was a hell she had to go through. The first time she felt it was one cold morning when she received the missive from her friends back at the orphanage. The letter had come early that morning and she had been incredibly excited to read it. While some letters came to her directly, some were addressed to Margaret herself.

“Would you like to see the things they sent after breakfast?” She asked Margaret who was excited more than anything and had utter and complete curiosity written all over her face. She felt Brodrick’s hot gaze pierce her neck for the better half of a minute as she continued eating her food but continued not to indulge. If she was you to sever herself from him, she would do it incredibly well without letting any kind of distraction occur. Later after breakfast and when the rest of the family had properly settled back in their chambers, Ava grabbed Margaret and the letters and they both headed to the courtyard.

“Who are you most excited to hear from?”

“Sarah.” Margaret’s voice was firm and soft, almost like she never had a problem speaking before and sometimes it was incredibly hard for Ava to believe that the same girl she had once tried to make speak on several occasions had now found her voice.

“I do suppose that is quite fair in a way.” Ava responded as they stretched out a large mat over a patch of grass in the courtyard. As the cold wind blew across Ava’s face she tried to reminisce about Margaret's moments at the orphanage. Of all the women, Sarah had of course been the one to warm up to her the most. The woman's maternal instinct made her instantly connect with the girl and Ava would forever be grateful for it.

“I suppose we shall open Sarah’s letter first then, shall we not?”

“Or we can read everything else and hers should be the last one we open.”

Ava cocked her head. That was not the most terrible idea. “Perhaps we should do that.”

Seeing Margaret's smile, Ava brought out the sealed letters and unsealed the first.

“This is from Henrietta. She asks how you are settling into the castle and if they make your bannocks the way you like them. She wants to know if there'll be a spare room for her in case she decides to visit.”

“Aye, there'll be. There will be a room for everyone in the castle.” Margaret responded, her hands raised in the air, utter glee written all over her face.

Ava laughed. “That there will.”

She properly placed the letter on the other side after she was done resting the entire thing word for word to the girl and waiting for her to properly register everything she had said.

“Now this is from Elizabeth.” Ava whispered, pulling the seal from the letter rather gently and looking straight at the excited girl. “She asks if you're doing well and wants to know if you have an animal yet.”

Margaret frowned. “An animal?”

“Oh you know Elizabeth. She's always peddling animals around and helping them. She had a stray rabbit in her room once.” Ava explained..

“Sounds like an interesting lass, this Elizabeth.” The voice had come like a shock to her. She felt it behind her before she even turned around, Brodrick’s looming presence. She shifted and came face to face with him. He was in a dark shirt and leather trousers, his hands folded gently against his chest, a smirk on his face. The wind blew gently through his hair and Ava watched the strands on his face dance for a while before returning to the present. Why did he have to look so irresistible just as she was getting ready to leave him. Was this life's way of making a rager cruel joke on her?

“We’re reading letters from the orphanage.” Margaret responded, the excitement still lingering in her voice.

“I just got them today.” Ava said, feeling her voice catch as she tried explaining.

“I understand.” Brodrick responded. A tense moment of silence passed between them, with Ava sensing that one was waiting for the other to say something. To break the tension and the silence. As Ava opened her mouth to take the responsibility, Margaret beat her to it..

“Ye can come sit with us and listen.” Her innocent voice sounded so sincere. So unconcerned.

Ava swallowed. What?

Brodrick shuffled his feet. “Ach, nay, Lass. I dinnae want to tamper with this moment?—”

“But I want ye to listen to Sarah's letter. We're reading hers last.”

Ava exchanged a tense look with Brodrick, almost like she was asking him to refuse but she knew better. The last thing she wanted was to deny the girl some time with her father just because of the unresolved issues between them.

“Please. sit with us.” She finally managed to say. Brodrick seemed to consider it for another while before giving a brief nod and settling with them, perching on the mat right beside Ava. The whiff of his musk practically caught her off guard and she tried as much as possible to play it off. She couldn't do this. Not now. Not when she was this close to leaving castle MacDunn for good.

“And now—” she finally muttered, finding her voice. “We have the letter from Sarah.”

Ava perused the letter first before reading. Sarah had asked about Margaret’s mother and if she had fed her enough ever since she returned to the castle. She asked if they have found the reason for her disappearance in the first place and if the person responsible has been punished.

“What did she say? Tell me!” Margaret called, the mild impatience in her voice rather amusing.

Ava swallowed and took one more look at the letter and then at Margaret. She obviously could not read out most of the letter. There were still some tender wounds that needed care and reading this out loud would uproot the plants of redemption that were just beginning to take root. It may probably even cause Margaret to go without speaking again and that was the last thing she wanted. Not after she had made this much progress.

“Sarah wants to know if you now enjoy goat meat and cheese. she said you couldn't keep it down back in the orphanage.” Ava said, her voice coated in a nervous laughter. One she dangerously hoped the little girl did not pick up on.

“That is it?” Brodrick asked, a wave of surprise crossing his face. “That is all she said?”

Ava swallowed, then turned to Brodrick and handed him the letter. “Yes. That is all she said. See?”

As he took the letter from her, his fingers brushed hers and she felt a wave of despair run down her body. Despair of still having to feel this way and not being able to do anything about it—because there was nothing to be done.

Brodrick seemed to understand almost immediately as well as he read the letter. Then he sighed, looked back up at Margaret and gave her a distinct smile as well.

“Well, that is what she said indeed.” Brodrick responded looking back at Margaret. “They must really love ye at the orphanage do they nae?”

“Oh well. It is what we do. We love every girl we bring in just the same. Everyone without a home.” Ava responded.

Brodrick nodded. “This is really important to ye, is it nae?”

Ava narrowed her eyes, wondering where he was going with this. “Yes, My Laird. The orphanage does mean quite a lot to me.”

Brodrick nodded. “I can see that.”

For the rest of the afternoon, they did other activities like watching the birds and identifying ones that felt familiar and the ones that didn't. Then they had a picnic where the maids supplied them in the courtyard with all kinds of dishes and meat. Brodrick attempted to leave once or twice but Margaret wouldn't let him leave. She wanted him around. She wanted him to witness every single thing, much to Ava's despair. Every second she spent with Brodrick killed her inside even more and she had no way of stopping it. Every lingering gaze, every finger graze and even every time he spoke and trailed off his sentences, she was ghastly reminded of the very thing she would be leaving behind.

It was her fault in the first place, letting a charming Highlander sweep her off her feet at the worst possible moment.

She had let it drag on for way too long, despite knowing there was only one possible outcome—her returning to the orphanage and saying goodbye to Margaret and Brodrick forever. That would mean saying goodbye to Flora and to Castle MacDunn, which she had surprisingly grown to love.

So, of course, she had to prepare. To properly bid them farewell, she needed to stop being around Brodrick way too often. This meant avoiding him.

It was easy, at first. The cèilidh dragged on for a few more days, and he grew busy with his men and the other lairds. All she had to worry about was the time he was going to leave his study or the time he was going to enter the Great Hall.

For the first few days, avoiding him was easy. But now that the lairds were departing one by one, she’d found it way harder.

Margaret, who was now speaking freely without any care in the world, always wanted her at the dining hall. Ava couldn’t refuse the child. What reason could she give? That she could not afford to face her father? That it’ll hurt too much?

Hence she would attend dinner at the dining hall but manage to avoid looking at Brodrick for too long. Once in a while, he would turn to look at her, but her eyes would immediately dart to something else. Something that didn’t hurt her as much to look at. Like the sun rays that pierced the roof of the hall.

As the days flew by, Margaret continued to find her voice. Now, she could talk anyone’s ears off, especially Flora, who bore the brunt of most of the little girl’s high-pitched rants.

“I cannae believe I miss the days the girl could barely speak,” Flora muttered to Ava one night after they had both put Margaret to bed.

Ava laughed, watching Flora slowly pull the blankets to Margaret’s chin.

Even the girl’s appetite had increased, and soon her hands were no longer bony, and her face was more radiant and fuller with life and love.

The following morning, as Ava watched Margaret reach for the bowl of honey in the middle of the dining table, she realized with startling clarity that her work in the castle was done. She had successfully completed her mission—the one that had made her jump into a wagon with a bloodied Highlander she knew next to nothing about just a few weeks ago—and there was only one thing left to do.

Flora said something that made Margaret laugh. Brodrick, who was sitting at the head of the table as usual, gave a slight smirk. One that was just enough to make Ava know he was in a good mood—by his standards.

“I plan to leave tomorrow. For the orphanage.”

Silence fell over the table. Everyone held their breaths, as if they had known this was coming but were still shocked by it.

“What do ye mean?” Flora asked.

Ava shrugged. “My work here is done. Margie can finally speak—she’s with her family. I just do not see any other reason for me to stay here any longer. I am certain I could be of more use to the girls at the orphanage than here at the castle.”

Silence. This time thicker and longer.

Brodrick glared at her, as if what she’d just said was the strangest thing in the world. As if she’d just revealed that she murdered someone in her youth.

“When do ye plan to leave?” Flora asked when the silence grew too suffocating.

Ava could tell from her reluctant tone that she wasn’t keen on hearing the answer. Flora only asked the question to break the silence.

“At first light,” Ava responded, her voice steady.

Flora nodded. “I see. I suppose I shall prepare some… food for ye so ye can eat it on the way.”

“Flora—” Ava said gently.

“Maybe some new gloves. Laird McClain was talking the other day about how intense the winds these days can be. Maybe I will even ask Irene to give ye some medicine, in case ye suffer from?—”

“Flora, please!” Ava called, halting the woman’s rambling.

Everyone held their breaths.

Ava studied the faces of the people around the table. Except for tightening his jaw once or twice, Brodrick looked just like usual—stoic, unfazed, and severe. Flora looked like might get sick if she spent one more minute at the table. Margaret had the same look on Brodrick’s face, except she was on the verge of tears.

Ava didn’t know what was worse, seeing the little girl cry or knowing she was the cause.

“Nay. Nay. I cannae do this,” Flora suddenly snapped, rising to her feet.

“Flora—” Ava tried to reach for her, but Flora dodged her hand narrowly.

“I need to go do something—prepare something. Food, something for ye to drink. I just… I just cannae stay here any longer.”

She threw her napkin on the table and stepped away, heading straight out of the dining hall, not looking back even once.

Margaret also rose from her seat, the tears now brimming in her eyes ready to spill over at any second. Ava tried to call for her, but just like Flora, Margaret gave her a silent stare and escaped the dining hall, leaving her venison almost untouched.

Spectacular. As if she did not already feel dreadful.

Ava didn’t think she could take it if Brodrick also walked out on her, so she decided to do it first.

Before he could stop her, she placed her napkin on the table and turned around. She had to start packing anyway, even though it was only breakfast.

She couldn’t breathe until she got to her room and let out a giant exhale. This was hard. Harder than she had thought it would be. She had severely underestimated the effect a place like this would have on her in such a short time.

She hated the fact that she was getting sentimental. This was not the plan. This had never been the plan. And it greatly irked her that she had to internally berate herself to stick to the plan in the first place.

She walked to the corner of her bed, her eyes flicking to the window for just a few seconds. She could see some of Brodrick’s men, including some of the remaining lairds who had come for the cèilidh, training in the courtyard.

She grabbed her box of clothes from underneath her bed and placed it on the mattress. As she lifted the lid, her door slammed open, and Brodrick walked in, his boots clicking louder than usual on the floor. Ava didn’t need to study his face for long to see it.

He was greatly upset.

“And what the devil do ye think ye’re doin’, lass?” he asked, looking straight at her. Almost like he was daring her to speak.

“This had to come one way or another, Brodrick. I believe it is far better for us—for everyone this way. No one has to get hurt.”

“Is that what ye’re so afraid of? Someone gettin’ hurt in the process?”

Ava dropped the lid of the box on the mattress and stepped closer to him. “What is this process you speak of? All we’ve had are stolen moments either under the moonlight or in your study. Is that what you call ‘the process?’”

“Well, we might be able to figure it out if ye’re nae intent on leavin’ in such haste.”

“My place isn’t here, Brodrick. You know it. I know it as well. It is just better for everyone this way. Please, do not make it harder than it already is.”

“This wasnae even the deal. The plan was that ye’ll stay for a month,” Brodrick retorted, the fire in his eyes overtaking the desperation in his voice. “The month isnae over yet.”

“But my work here is done. Margaret can speak. She adores you. She adores the castle. She does not need me around anymore. You should be glad it didn’t even take a month in the first place.”

“A month,” Brodrick repeated. “That was our deal.”

A bitter chuckle escaped Ava’s lips as she closed the gap between them.

“Well, it is quite a good thing I am not good at following orders, is it not?”

A tense pause ensued, and for a second, Ava’s eyes searched his, looking for something—possibly redemption, closure, or just the hint of some kind of resolution. When she couldn’t find any, she turned around and headed back to her box.

She hadn’t taken more than two steps when she felt his hand wrap around her wrist, his grip tight and firm.

Before she could say anything, he pulled her closer to him, her hand landing flat on his chest. She could see the things they left unsaid on his face, in the golden flecks in his eyes. The need, the yearning. It was all visible in the way his lips moved.

He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her in, his lips crashing against hers. They remained in that position for a while, the kiss invading, tearing through barricades, seeking.

Brodrick broke the kiss and looked her right in the eyes, his hands still cradling her face. “Stay. Just for tomorrow.”

Ava reached for his hands and held onto them tight, words forming in her mouth.

“Please,” Brodrick added.

Ava stared on, unable to form words that lingered at the tip of her tongue. He truly was asking her to stay. To hold on for him.

She could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice, the hope that he had managed to weaken her resolve.

* * *

“No.” Her response was sharp and quick, almost damning. Brodrick took a step back and stared at her. Like she suddenly transformed into something else. Something that was entirely and completely out of his reach. Something he tried to grasp but couldn't for some reason. Was it because it was too late? If he had spoken up earlier, if he had properly expressed his feelings, would this have happened?

“I should go, My Laird.” Ava finally whispered, her words breaking the thought process in his head, causing him to have even more questions that needed answers. She turned around and walked to the door and the questions haunted him even more.

Should he go after her? Should he stop her and ask her to stay. Should he take her right in his study one more time?

The questions lingered in his head even long after Ava was gone. He was now alone, left to his spiraling thoughts and the wave of repressed emotions that kept threatening to burst out the surface. He walked to his chair and settled behind his table, every part of his body pulsing with the desire to do something. To hit something. To lash out.

The door creaked open and his head snapped up. Had she returned?

“My Laird,” Darach stood by the door, much to Brodrick’s severe disappointment. “The men asked to speak to you.”

Brodrick rubbed his palm against his head. “I dinnae have the time. Tell them I shall come to them later.”

“They say tis quite important. Tis about the?—”

“I dinna care what it could possibly be about. I am not in the mood to see anyone. Can ye convey that?”

A tense pause followed his words. One filled with him downing the regret that he may have snapped too hard at his man at arms.

“Very well, my Laird.” Darach responded, his voice lower and gentler than before. He stepped back into the doorway and reached to close the door behind him one more time.

“Wait.” Brodrick called the last minute idea settling into his head quite harshly. “Fetch me an axe.”

“My Laird?” Darach called, the hint of worry in his voice way more evident than anything.

“I said fetch me an axe. I need to cut some logs.”

He needed to do something. He needed to unleash all the energy he was feeling into something and he might as well do that with the logs that had laid by the side of the castle for quite a while. He stepped out of the study, raising his sleeves as he walked past Darach.

The biting morning air didn't stop him as he headed straight to the logs, the energy in him rising more than usual. Darach returned with the axe.

And Flora.

“And what in God's name do ye think yer doing?” Flora’s voice was sharp and stern as Darach handed him the axe.

“Working. What else does it look like?” He took the first swing, the wood split straight into two.

“We have men for this. You should be talking to Ava since she's preparing to leave.” Flora suggested.

Brodrick took the second swing. “I dinnae want to talk to her.”

He struck the wood and noticed in his periphery, his sister and man at arms flinch at the impact. The log split but not complete. He raised the axe again.

“She is leaving for good. Instead of trying to break the damn ground, you could use this moment to?—”

“There is nothing to say!” Brodrick responded, bringing the axe heavily down on the wood. This time, it split completely. He grabbed another log and placed it on the stump.

“Brodrick—”

“Flora go back to the castle. I'm fine.”

“Yer not fine!”

He swung again. The axe landed severely on the wood. Then he swung several other times. For the next thirty minutes, he continued to hammer through the logs like a man on fire. Darach had left to go relay his messages to his men but Flora remained adamant. She had insisted on watching.

“Brodrick. Tis enough. Ye should be getting tired already.”

“Nay.” He responded even though he felt his arms getting sore. He would much rather do this than anything else. He continued breaking the logs, and it was quite rhythmic the way the axe blade fell on the wood. Thwap!

“Yer hands are beginning to redden. I can see it.” Flora tried to call.

Thwap! He swung again.

“Brodrick—”

The sound of the wood crashing against the axe laced his thoughts quite immensely. Thwap!

If only he could— Thwap! —properly express how he felt. He wouldn't even— Thwap!

“Brodrick please stop!”

He wouldn't even have to do this— Thwap!— in the first place!

“Brodrick!” Flora’s voice made him freeze, pulling him out of the momentary reverie he had placed himself in.

He felt himself suddenly come back to normal, releasing the handle off his grip. His hands were not just red, his fingers bled as well and a shudder ran through him just at the sight of the blood on his hands. His eyes darted to the axe and certain enough, blood was smeared along the wooden handle.

He didn't look at Flora, not as he managed to catch his breath, or leave the logs. He could feel his sister's eyes on her as he made his way to the castle but he didn't look back. She wouldn't understand. Not now. And he was not in the mood to explain.