Seana laughed a bit hysterically. “Nay! Ye willna harm him!” she demanded of her friend. “I swear he’s done naught! ’Tis me!” she swore. “Colin has done naught at all, save be himself, and I am only a fool!”
He seemed to understand her meaning, because he tilted a sympathetic look at her. “Awww, ye are not!” he protested, and hugged her once more. “You are not a fool, Seana dearlin’!”
Seana began again to weep, despite her resolve not to.
“Och, ye’ve had a hard day,” he said, comforting her. “Let me take you home.”
Seana nodded, and he peered into the woods, hesitating only a moment before urging her to follow. “Come,” he said, frowning.
Seana didn’t protest. The night was mistier than she’d ever seen it, and her heart ached as never before. She needed a shoulder, and Broc had always been generous in offering his to her.
The fog was so thick Seana could scarce see the path before them.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as they walked.
Seana shivered, and shook her head. He didn’t press her, only hugged her nearer.
“’Tis a bloody rotten night,” she said, changing the topic. “I have never seen the mist so thick!”
“Aye,” Broc agreed. “’Tis a rotten night.” And he peered about again, as though looking for someone… or something.
Seana shivered again though she wasn’t cold precisely. A feeling of unease passed over her. “What are you doing here, anyhow?”
He squeezed her gently as they walked. “The question is… what are you doin’ out at this hour? I thought ye were going to remain with Meggie, lass? Dinna ye ever worry about yourself at all?”
“I live here, Broc! I know my way about these woods—fog or nay. I have walked these woodlands many a night to check the spirits. And anyhow, whatever will happen, will happen,” she told him, and believed it wholeheartedly. “Ye canna live your life afraid!”
Her father had taught her that much. Poor though they might have been, he had faced each day with the greatest of hope.
“Nay,” Broc agreed. “You cannot. Tis true enough.”
She was going to miss her da, terribly, but he’d left his hope with her, and for that Seana was grateful. Black as the night might seem, Seana knew the morning light would come.
“Your da would be proud of ye, lass.”
Seana smiled up at Broc. It was a kind thing for him to say to her, and mayhap the only thing that might have cheered her this moment. “You are the only one who didna ever belittle him, Broc. He liked you verra much!”
“I liked him, too,” Broc said. “He was a good man.”
Seana smiled. “Och, you just liked his spirits!” she teased. “But aye, he was…” She swallowed the knot of grief that rose in her throat, and tried hard not to weep again. “…a verra good man.”
They walked in silence, and Seana was grateful for it, because she didn’t think she could keep her composure and speak of her da, as well. The mood between them was as somber as the woodland air.
“So what will ye do now that he is gone?”
Seana contemplated her options only briefly, few enough that they were. “Make the uisge beatha,” she said without hesitation. “It was my da’s legacy, and I do not see why I shouldna continue. There are not many who know the spirits as he did.”
“Verra true,” Broc agreed. “But Seana,” he began, his tone mindful, and Seana knew what he was about to say. “Lass…”
He didn’t wish to hurt her feelings, she knew, but her spirits had been but a mere shadow of her da’s. In fact, her da would likely have dumped it all upon the ground rather than serve it to another living soul, so guarded was he of his cherished recipe.
“I know, Broc,” Seana said, grateful for the distraction. “But it is not my fault. There have been too many celebrations and not enough time to age the uisge. ‘Tis what happens when ye dinna give the faeries their share.”
Broc clutched his stomach, and Seana didn’t miss the defensive gesture. It made her smile, despite her mood. She almost laughed, even.
“Anyway, it serves ye well, Broc! ‘Tis what a man gets for drinking so much!”
“Och!” he exclaimed. “Ye sound like Iain’s bloody wife! No mercy at all for a man’s plight in life!”
Seana did laugh then. “I like her already,” she told Broc. “She sounds like a woman after my own heart!”
“She’s a woman after mine, as well,” he confessed. “Too bloody bad Iain got to her first.” He laughed. “If he werena my laird and friend, I’d have to make her a widow, I think.”
Seana laughed with him. “Liar! Ye wouldna harm a fly, Broc Ceannfhionn!”
He shook his head in wonder. “Why does everybody say that?”
Chapter 24
He’d let her go, but it was a mistake. The night was far too dangerous for her to wander these woods alone.
She was far too emotional.
Colin followed her into the forest, calling out her name, but she refused to answer. He had no idea at all what he had done to upset her. He had tried so hard to do the right thing… to protect her… even from himself.
“Seana!” he called out.
No answer—and Christ, he did not know these woods as well as she did. For all he knew, he was running in circles. Muttering a curse beneath his breath, he stopped to gain his bearings and stood contemplating the woods.
Bloody rotten fog!
Where had she gone?
“Seana!”
No answer.
“Gadamn me!” he swore softly to himself. What the hell had he done to hurt her? He stood there, trying to understand, and couldn’t. “What the bloody hell did I do?” he asked no one in particular, and was startled half out of his wits when a hiss sounded just above his head.
Colin yelped in startle, and stumbled backward.
His gaze sought out and found the culprit.
It was a cat.
The same bloody cat that had landed atop his head the day he had found Seana by her father’s pot still. The hair on the back of his nape stood on end, and he spat a string of oaths.
“Devil cat!” he said, glaring at it. It merely stared back at him, its eyes glowing softly in the darkness, blinking.
It was a black cat… not that he was the least bit superstitious. He left that nonsense to his long dead grandminny and his sister. Still, he couldn’t help but note its color, for it blended almost imperceptibly with the night. Anything could be hiding out here.
Shuddering, he turned from the cat, feeling suddenly a little desperate to find Seana.
The woods were silent… too silent…
Something felt wrong in his gut… something more than just the way things were left between them.
He called her name again, and ran after her, hoping she was all right.
He would never forgive himself if something happened to her.
The cairn was just as Seana had left it.
Of course it was; why wouldn’t it be? There was no one here now to change things—not that her da had risen much from his bed in the last weeks. Nor did they own enough to muss up their little home. Their house was sparse compared to the way others lived.
Seana had oft peeked into the windows of others and envied their cozy rooms, with blankets strewn about and lovely furnishings. This minute, however, she couldn’t find any of that envy. Their own furnishings were crude, but lovingly made by her father’s hands. Seana had helped him whenever she could, and he had never complained when she did something wrong.
She walked over to the little table where she and her da had supped together, and ran her fingers over the rough wood. One corner was lopped off, noticeably so… from Seana’s effort to help. In her zeal, she had wielded the axe far too wide and had removed a goodly portion of their proposed table. Her da hadn’t been pleased, but neither had he been angry. She wasn’t supposed to have handled his axe, so tiny was she, but she had, and she’d split the wood in one fell s
woop.
She smiled at the memory.
Her da had been torn, she recalled, between pride and disappointment. Seana had been such a weakly child… her strength with the axe had pleased him immensely. And yet… he had already carved the table top and even smoothed the sides to keep from giving them splinters whilst they sat to sup.
Och, he hadn’t even scolded her. His brows had furrowed only an instant before lifting with appreciation at her handiwork. Seana had beamed with pleasure, filled with pride.
She sighed.
He’d left the table as it was… only smoothed the place where she had cut, and Seana had oft caught him running his fingers over the rough edge, with a slight smile upon his lips.
Nay… she had not had all the comforts others had… and mayhap her dad had drunk a bit too much betimes… but he had given her something no one else ever had. And she doubted anyone ever would.
Unconditional love.
“You’ll miss him?” Broc said. It wasn’t a question.
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she didn’t shed them. “Aye,” she said, and sighed.
Broc came up behind her and then drew out one of the little stools her da had fashioned to go with the table. He sat in it, and Seana’s brows lifted at the expression upon his face as he tumbled backward, and fell onto his arse.
Despite the tears in her eyes, she couldn’t suppress a giggle. “It has a leg too short,” she told him too late.
Broc didn’t bother to rise. “Och, now ye tell me!”
Seana laughed. “Well, ye dinna ask!”
Broc chuckled, and then peered about, inspecting the cairn. “Bloody hell, Seana… I never understood how ye could live here,” he admitted, shaking his head in obvious disgust.
“It wasna so bad!” she swore. And then she laughed softly, changing her mind. “Save in winter and when it rains.”
Slivers of moonlight peeked in wherever the stones were loosely fit. No matter how one looked at it, it was a poor place to lay one’s head by night, but there were some who had no roof at all, and Seana would not, looking back at her life, have changed a bloody thing.
Broc was still peering about, brows raised. “Hmmm,” he said only. And Seana laughed again, because she knew he had no idea what to say in response to her fervent defense of her home. But Broc could hardly appreciate the things about it that Seana could. He had not lived here. He had not known her da as she had.
Nay, he couldn’t possibly understand.
“Aye, well…” He cast her a glance. “Ye dinna have to stay here anymore.”
“I know,” she replied, and walked over to the rows of oaken barrels her da had lined up against the far wall. Most were empty now, for there had been far too much celebration in far too short a time, but a few were still full, and the pungent odor of aging spirits filled her lungs. She lovingly patted a barrel, thinking that for the first time in her life she didn’t have to do anything at all. There was nobody anywhere who needed her. She could do anything she wished, go anywhere she liked.
But none of it needed to be decided now, and she didn’t really care to discuss her future plans with Broc.
She turned to face him, leaning against the barrel. He was watching her, his expression full with pity.
“Och!” she exclaimed, and approached him, shaking a finger at him. “Do not dare feel sorry for me, Broc Ceannfhionn!”
Broc blinked, taken aback by her unexpected rebuke.
“Why, I believe I am the luckiest woman I know!” she told him, and thought it might truly be so.
Broc nodded, humoring her, daunted by her outburst.
Seana’s brows drew together, thinking how different his response was from Colin’s. Colin, the arrogant cur, would have grinned at her, and his reaction would both infuriate her and amuse her as well.
She shook a finger at him. “I have me no man to tell me what to do now, and I have the means to support myself! What more could a woman wish for?”
Broc continued to nod his head, his expression sober. “Ye have the means… unless ye kill all your bloody customers with that rotten uisge ye’ve been making,” he pointed out.
Seana’s brows lifted.
Belatedly, he grinned up at her.
“Och, ye big lout!” She stomped his toe with her foot.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed, but spoiled his complaint with a bigger smile. And then added, “Och, but ’tis some rotgut uisge if ever I’ve drunk it, Seana! And ye know I’d not say such a thing were it not true, lass.”
Seana bit into her lip, and grimaced over the truth of it. “I know,” she confessed.
He sniffed the room, and then grinned again, softening the blow of his words. “Strike a flame,” he said, “and there would be naught left of us to worry about!”
Seana wanted to smack him. Och, it wasn’t that bad! But she laughed despite herself, adding, “Hush yourself, Broc!”
Though he did have a point, and she drew out the other stool to sit upon, considering it.
Her uisge beatha was far too strong for man or beast—nor even the hardiest Scotsman. She was lucky enough not to have had deaths on her conscience, though she hadn’t really considered the strength of her spirits until now. She had been far too concerned with simply supplying the demand.
“Dinna worry, Seana. I will help you… until ye have a better batch to sell. Dinna fash yourself o’er it, lass.”
Pride dictated that she refuse. Common sense told her she could not. She tilted her head to look at him there upon the floor. “You’re a good friend to me, Broc. A verra good friend.”
He winked at her. “And you’re a verra sweet lass. And will do verra well, I think.”
If only her heart were not aching.
If only she did not yearn for the one man she could not have.
She sat contemplating her options, trying not to think about Colin or how close she had come to giving him all that she possessed.
It wasn’t so much her name she would have ruined, for she had no name to speak of. She was Donal the drunk’s daughter, after all, and no one had ever expected anything of her—save that she might rob their pantries and steal their laundry!
Nay, but tonight she had come close to losing the one thing she couldn’t bear to. She had very nearly lost her pride.
She was fine.
Colin stood outside her door and listened to the voices within.
Seana and Broc.
Broc must have come here to wait on her, and Seana had obviously never intended to stay at Meghan’s. How else could the two of them find themselves together so quickly, when she had only just left him?
No wonder she had panicked and fled. He had very nearly seduced her and her heart belonged still to Broc.
“Aye, well… ye dinna have to stay here,” he heard Broc say.
Colin couldn’t help himself. He tried to walk away, but he couldn’t. He stood there eavesdropping, feeling like a lout, his heart squeezing him all the while.
“I know,” Seana replied.
Their voices muffled for a moment, and Colin strained to hear them, swallowing his pride.
“Why, I think I am the luckiest woman I know!” Seana said, and Colin heard the truth in her tone.
She believed it.
She was in love with Broc.
She had been telling him so from the first, and he hadn’t wanted to believe her.
He didn’t bother knocking. He didn’t wish to intrude. He’d been fooling himself to believe he had a chance to win her at all. And it served him right. He didn’t deserve her. She deserved far more than what Colin could give her.
Their voices faded behind him, and it was all he could do to keep himself from turning back and bursting like a madman into her home.
Fight for her, a little voice declared. Go back and fight for her if you love her!
Broc was his best friend.
He couldn’t.
Seana was surely worth it, but he couldn’t go back after hearing the joy in her voice.
Why, I think I am the luckiest woman I know! he heard her say once more, and he winced.
He wanted that for her. He truly did. She deserved happiness and if Broc could give it to her, then he wanted even that…
God help him, he would find a way to be happy for her, because Seana was the finest woman he’d ever known.
But she had spoiled him forever.
He couldn’t imagine now kissing another pair of lips… couldn’t imagine running his fingers through softer hair…
He didn’t want anyone else.
His heart squeezed within his breast as he walked away. With every step, the forest grew darker, like a somber blanket that would never again be lifted.
Without her, nothing seemed to matter anymore.
Chapter 25
The sound of weeping caught Seana’s attention.
For an instant, she thought she might have imagined it, but she cast a glance at Broc to see his expression perked as well. Her brows drew together as she listened.
She couldn’t quite tell if it were far away… or near… but it was definitely a child’s sobs.
“Dinna leave Seana to cry,” her da had said.
Could this be what he had been speaking of?
Could he, in his fevered state, have imagined this child to be her? Except that… Seana did not recall the weeping when she was here last.
“Do you hear it?” Broc asked, cocking his head.
“I do!” She rose.
“Where is it coming from?”
“I dunno,” Seana replied, wandering the room as she listened to the distant sound. It was a wee child, she was certain. It didn’t sound anything at all like an animal, though that had been her first thought. She walked nearer to her father’s pallet, following the sound.
It grew louder—barely, though it did.
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