He shook his head, and took a deep breath to clear his senses, then gathered up what he could of Seana’s pot still to take home with him.
She had obviously begun a new batch of her spirits because the pot still was heavy with the substance. He hated to waste it, but he couldn’t carry it home like this, so he proceeded to empty some upon the ground. But he hated to waste it all.
Colin lifted up the pot still when it had lightened sufficiently and then emptied the rest into his mouth. It was a good strong spirit, still slightly warm. He choked a bit as it went down, but he didn’t stop. He let it pour down his throat. A little spilled down his chin.
There were those who took their measure of a man by the way he drank his uisge. Colin had been drinking since he’d been old enough for his da to shove it down his gob. A little burn never killed a man, his da would say, but he hadn’t entirely been right.
A little uisge beatha sometimes did.
But it was all part of the game, and no man worth the name ever shied away from the fire water. You put your faith, not in God, but in your brewer, and your lips on the… mouth of the bottle… or was it that… you put your lips on the mouth of the brewer…
Och, but his brain grew fuzzy, even as he drank.
This spirit was strong.
He finished it, and gathered the pieces of the still, then carried it home, as he’d promised her, ignoring the itty bitty bursts of light that twinkled along the path to light his way.
Fairy dust, that’s what it looked like—if he believed in such things, but he didn’t…
Magic lived only in the minds of old women such as his grandminny Fia—God rest her soul—and in a wee dram of good uisge beatha.
And in Seana’s smile.
He smiled, then, for the image of it was imprinted upon his mind… and damned if he didn’t suddenly feel better than he had in years.
And it wasn’t the uisge beatha.
Chapter 9
It was the damned uisge beatha.
Damn, but Colin was as sick as he’d ever been in his life. This was the second time in the space of a week that he’d found himself spewing his guts out over that damned drink of hers. He hadn’t realized it until this morning, but it was her father’s spirits he had drunk at Meghan’s wedding. Who the devil had procured that waste? Not he, damn it all to hell. Leith, perhaps. He was going to have to talk to Leith and be sure they never bought that rotgut again. If he didn’t know better he’d think she was trying to poison him!
Rolling over on his bed, he flung an arm over the side.
Christ help him, he was going to die.
That’s what that secret smile was as she’d fled the woods, leaving him there with her vat of poison.
She’d known he would drink it and that he’d lie here in misery, waiting to take his final breath.
She hadn’t managed to kill him the first time, so she’d devised a way to weasel into his head and stay until he’d been driven out by lust and madness to find her. And then she’d poisoned him again. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t forced it down his throat. She’d known he would drink it.
Just as she must have known he’d come after her.
He tried to remember… was Broc sickened by her spirits, as well? He didn’t think so, but Cameron surely had been. The poor boy had gone into the woods and they hadn’t seen him again until late in the day.
Colin groaned in sheer misery. He rolled over once more in the bed and threw an arm over his eyes to shield them from the light.
“Somebody kill me,” he muttered to himself.
“Somebody will if Meghan sees you like this,” Leith said from the doorway. “You’re verra lucky she’s in Montgomerie’s bed just now and cannot be bothered anymore with tormenting her brothers.”
Colin would have laughed at Leith’s pitiful attempt to cheer them both, but he didn’t have the strength. “Go and tell her to come home!” he demanded of his older brother.
“Aye,” Leith said, “and she would take one sniff of this room and beat you o’er the head with a broom.”
Colin groaned in misery. “But then she would return with one of her potions and I would be as good as new,” he argued.
Leith laughed. “Where in damnation did you go anyhow… one minute you were there next to me working on the fence, and the next you were gone.”
“To speak with Donal the drunk’s daughter,” Colin mumbled.
Leith lifted a brow. “Aha,” he said, “I understand now!”
“Nay, ye dinna,” Colin argued, covering his eyes once more.
Damn, but he was going to die.
“Anyhow, you’ve a wench here looking for you, says the smithy.”
Colin peered up at the doorway at his brother.
Leith lifted a brow. “She wouldn’t happen to be Donal the drunk’s daughter, now would she?”
“He’s fixing her still,” Colin replied in self-defense… or mayhap it was more in defense of Seana.
“I see,” Leith said, grinning.
“Nay, you don’t,” Colin protested once more. “It isn’t what you’re thinkin’ this time.”
“And you’re not sleeping off a night’s drunk either,” Leith countered, and laughed without pity.
“Go to bloody hell!” Colin muttered. He tried to rise. “Damn,” he said, and stumbled out of the bed.
Leith chuckled.
“I’m going to take the lass to see Meggie today,” Colin explained.
“Well, you’d better be sobering up or you’ll never get whatever it is you’re after. Meggie will blast your arse!”
Colin cast him a rankled glance. “What makes you think I want something from her?” he asked Leith, offended by his brother’s assumptions.
Leith shrugged.
Did everyone just expect him to want something? Did they never just assume he wished to help?
He thought about that, and was forced to ask himself… When was the last time he’d done something simply for someone else’s sake, and not his own?
It was a cold hard question, but one he was still contemplating when he reached the smithy’s.
“I don’t want you to straighten it out! It must have that verra same kink when you’re done!”
“Och, lass, it would be easier to make you a whole new piece than to try to fit this one together the way you want me to! I canna do it! If ye want the kink, I’ll give you a new kink!” The smithy lifted up the copper tubing he’d been working with and bent it in one swift stroke over his knee. “There ye go, a kink!”
“Let me have my pot still back!” Seana demanded furiously. “I will fix it! You’ve no idea what you’re doing, stubborn man!”
That was the sight that greeted Colin as he entered the smithy’s shop.
The smithy held on to the still, preventing her from taking it. “Colin said to fix it, and fix it I will!” he told Seana, refusing to return it.
Seana tugged at the contraption, trying to wrest it away from him. “Nay, ye willna, ye big oaf! It doesna belong to Colin! It belongs to my da! Give it back!”
Colin was grateful his headache had eased, else he’d never be able to deal with the two of them now. He walked up to them, and took the pot still from the smithy’s hands. Seana tried to grab it from him but he held it high.
She gave him a look that would have curdled his belly if her damnable uisge beatha hadn’t already beat her to it.
He smiled down at her reassuringly. “I’ll make him do it as you wish,” he promised her. And then he handed the vat with all its copper limbs back to the smithy. “Fix it as she told you to.”
“Och, but, Colin!”
“If anyone can do it, you can,” he assured the smithy. “I have every faith you’ll find a way.”
The older man’s face contorted with disgust. “As if I did not have anything better to do!” he complained, taking the pot still from Colin. He returned it to his workbench. “But I’ll not raise a finger to it while she remains in my presence,” he swore, and refused to work w
hile they remained. He crossed his arms and leaned against his bench, waiting expectantly.
“Hmmph!” Seana exclaimed.
“Dinna fash yourself,” Colin told the man. “We’ll be out of your way this minute.”
“I will not!” Seana protested.
Colin leaned to whisper in her ear. “A man has his pride, lass.”
The scent of her skin was sweet, like fresh green grass and sunshine, momentarily distracting him. More than anything, he’d like to lay her down in some meadow and make love to her sweet body…
Och, God, how could she affect him so even in the miserable state he was in?
“He’ll fix it for ye as you wish. You have my word.” He gave her a pleading look, of the sort he reserved for Meggie when he needed her help and she didn’t want to give it. His sister had always been his greatest challenge. She couldn’t be swayed by his charms—she was his sister, after all.
“Verra well,” she relented.
Colin grinned and chucked her beneath the chin. He gave her a wink, relishing the fact that she was not wholly immune to him. “Let’s go’n see Meghan, lass.”
All hope was not lost, he thought, but hope for what, he had no idea.
Chapter 10
It was a longer walk to Meghan’s than Seana anticipated, but she didn’t mind.
Truth to tell, she was rather enjoying Colin’s company this morning. He was charming when he wished to be, and she could see why the girls were drawn to him, beyond that beautiful face of his.
She couldn’t quite bring herself to tell him so, however. It wasn’t even easy to admit to herself.
Something had changed between them, it seemed.
After last night, she felt a certain gratitude toward him that she hadn’t expected to feel. But beyond that… something else was different as well. It was an easy companionship between them today, and she could tell that he, too, was enjoying their familiarity. Despite the fact that he seemed sick this morn, he was jovial and waggish, and hadn’t complained the first bit when she’d refused to ride upon his horse. He dismounted and, holding the animal by the reins, walked patiently beside her, even when her legs grew tired and her limp grew evident.
Seana wasn’t afraid of the beast. It was a beautiful black mare with a gentle manner, but she hadn’t strengthened her limbs so well by allowing herself to be coddled and carried about. Nay, it was good to walk. If her legs pained her just a bit, it was a small price to pay for the simple joy of setting one foot before the other. The worst of it all was the slight hobble to her walk that betrayed her now, and she was certain that was what had quieted the mood between them.
Seana didn’t miss the way he studied her legs, though he pretended to ignore it. It made him uneasy, she could tell by his silence, though she couldn’t quite tell if he was repulsed by the debility itself or if it were simply his guilt that made him avoid her gaze.
In any case, it didn’t matter.
It was his problem to overcome, she decided, because she had already dealt with it. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d found a way to like herself despite her body’s weaknesses… and mayhap even because of them.
Colin Mac Brodie had his own demons to overcome, Seana realized. But Colin wasn’t her problem just now.
Winning herself a husband was, and finding her da a better place to lay his head.
“Are ye certain ye dinna wish to ride, lass?”
Seana cast him a glance. She smiled to ease the frown lines from his brow, and teased him, “Are ye so weary already, Colin Mac Brodie?”
He returned her smile, though his worry lines didn’t quite disappear. “Mayhap I am,” he answered, but Seana somehow knew it was for her benefit alone.
“Aye,” she agreed, goading him, “You dinna look so good, ’tis true.” She gave him her own look of concern, and tried not to smile when he took offense.
“What do ye mean I dinna look so good!”
“Ye just do not,” Seana replied, in her most innocent tone.
His brows drew together.
“Ye look a wee bit puny, in truth.” She continued to tease him, though it wasn’t entirely untrue. She doubted he was accustomed to hearing such things from the women he was acquainted with.
“Puny!” he exclaimed, and seemed incensed that she would think him so.
“Well, ye dinna wish me to lie, now do you?” she reasoned, pursing her lips to keep from laughing at his answering expression; a mixture of surprise and bewilderment, and perhaps distress that she did not think him perfect.
Och, but he was perfect… that face… that mouth… that body…
Seana tried not to dwell on it.
He was trying to decide whether she was speaking the truth, and Seana resolved to let him think she meant it. It would do him good, she thought, to be a wee less certain of himself now and again. Everyone suffered uncertainty at some point… save for Colin Mac Brodie. Och, but it wasn’t natural to be so self-assured. Seana decided a little humility would suit him better.
“Well, you dinna look so bloody good yourself,” he countered.
Seana was certain she didn’t, and that he thought so was no great surprise. “Nay?” she asked, her tone completely lacking in concern.
“Nay!”
“Oh, well,” Seana lamented, and picked up her pace. She was not going to confess that she had good reason, at least, because her leg was, indeed, bothering her.
“I think we should ride,” he persisted.
“No thank you,” Seana countered stubbornly.
“Och, but ye said yourself, lass. I dinna look so well! Have pity on me, and ride this mare with me!”
Seana gave him her most pleasant smile. “Ye can ride, if you wish. I do not mind.” She could tell he was growing frustrated, but she didn’t need his concern. “I have never ridden a horse in my life,” she confessed, trying to turn his attention from her leg, “and I do not need to begin now.”
He seemed surprised by that. “Never?”
“Nay. Not everyone is born to such luxuries, Colin Mac Brodie!”
“She willna harm ye, lass.”
Seana continued to walk, her expression cheerful, ignoring his appeals. “I know.”
“Stubborn woman!”
Seana gave him a nod of agreement. “My da says so, as well. But if I were not so stubborn, I think, I wouldn’t even be able to walk today. Stubborn is not such a bad thing to be, Colin Mac Brodie!”
She’d given him an opening, she knew, but she wanted it spoken between them at last. Her bad leg was not a thing to be pitied or feared or held in contempt. It was not something to be hushed about either. It was simply a fact of her life, an obstacle to be overcome—and she surely had done that!
Still, he didn’t seem able to ask. He opened his mouth to speak, she saw, then closed it again, and returned to keeping his own thoughts. His brows remained drawn together, and he stared at the ground where he walked, brooding.
Was he so concerned about her comfort?
Or was he simply uneasy in her presence now that her limp had become discernible?
Neither thought pleased her, but the second disturbed her far more than the first. It brought back too many painful memories.
“It does not pain me at all,” she lied, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “Do not fret over me, Colin.”
Colin knew it was a lie.
He could tell by the way she winced a bit with every step she took. She wasn’t even aware of the telltale gesture, he thought, but it was there, nevertheless. He’d been trying to figure out a way to get her on his horse, but short of lifting her up and throwing her over his mount, he didn’t see a way of getting her to comply.
With every step she took, his conscience pricked him more.
All those years ago, he had never considered her at all—neither her physical nor emotional pain—and this moment he didn’t like himself for his lack of compassion. He was a selfish man, who only thought about himself. How could he not have considered her the
n?
All morning he’d been trying to remember an instance… a single time he had given his sweat for someone else without the first concern for what he would receive in return. He couldn’t think of one. It disturbed him. He knew his brother hadn’t meant to plague him this morn, but he’d been the second person in the span of these few days to imply that Colin was self-centered and self-serving. All his life he had been at the center of someone’s attention, but he had never asked for it. It was not like he begged for attention or favor. He had simply received it. It had not really occurred to him that he hadn’t returned it, because he simply assumed everyone else wore his shoes. But it was never more apparent to him, than at the moment, how unfair life could be to some, while favoring others so generously.
Seana had been given a cross to bear, and she had borne it with dignity. She bore it still with the same pride he had seen in her eyes all those years ago.
He admired her.
He wanted to help her.
But he felt helpless because she wouldn’t let him, which led him to realize how difficult it must have been for her to come to him and beg his help to win Broc. He felt rotten now for refusing her so meanly, particularly so because he had done so only because of his own wounded pride. There was truly naught wrong with what she was doing. She claimed she loved Broc, and what was wrong with trying to gain his attention?
Naught at all.
Broc would be very fortunate to have a woman such as Seana.
Colin was beginning to see just how fortunate.
Though it bothered him that she wanted his best friend, he intended to do what he could to help her. And if he couldn’t help her directly, he knew Meghan would.
He wasn’t quite charitable enough to hand someone else something he wanted for himself.
Right or wrong, it was the way he was. He couldn’t help it—didn’t want to help it where she was concerned.
Damn it, he wanted her for himself.
He just didn’t want a bloody wife.
Stubborn wench.
How the devil was he going to get her on his horse?
Out of sheer desperation, Colin pretended to trip. He stumbled, gave a little yelp, and went down, rolling free of his horse. He damned well didn’t want to spook the beast and kill himself simply to save her a walk, but it was just about the only thing he could think to do.
Highland Brides 03 - On Bended Knee Page 9
