Highland Brides 03 - On Bended Knee (14 page)

To look upon Meghan Montgomerie was to feel somehow like less, while to be in her presence was to feel like more. She was so beautiful even Seana could not help but stare, but Meghan had a way of talking to a person that made one feel important. They had never met before today, and yet, Meghan welcomed her with open arms, treating her as though she were a long lost sister.

One look in Meghan’s eyes and Seana understood why Piers de Montgomerie hadn’t paid the Brodie curse any mind. There was nothing “mad” about Meghan Brodie and hers were the most canny eyes Seana had ever peered into. In fact, those eyes made Seana just a wee bit uncomfortable, for they seemed to perceive far too much.

There were things Seana would as lief keep to herself.

She and Colin had arrived in time to share the noonday meal with the Montgomeries. From what Seana gathered, it was the first time Colin Mac Brodie had ever partaken at Lyon’s table, and he was visibly uncomfortable with the occasion. Both men were. Och, but she wasn’t certain why she should care to, but she resolved to make it as painless as possible for Colin.

She knew what it was like to feel alone, to be the one on the outside.

Putting aside her own misgivings for the time being, she gave Colin all of her attention, and hoped it gave him a sense of companionship.

It didn’t matter to Seana if Montgomerie himself thought them lovers. Colin’s sister would know the truth soon enough, and she would, if naught else, appreciate that Seana had looked after her brother.

The only problem was… Seana had never eaten such things in her life. She rarely ate meat, but she’d never even seen meat of this sort. She and her da had feasted only upon what the forest and rivers provided and Seana couldn’t imagine how one was supposed to swallow a piece of meat of the size of this boar.

She stared at the carcass that was set before them upon the table and wondered, honestly, if it were only there for show. The beast’s mouth was stuffed with an apple that was plumed with tail feathers made to look like a small bird.

Seana peered up at Colin, watching him speak with Lyon, wishing he would give her some clue as to what to do with the bloody food, but he began to speak at length about his fence. The two began a heated debate over who was originally responsible for their feud, and who should be held accountable for repairs. For Meghan’s sake, she knew they kept the conversation civil, but Seana understood the undercurrents between them.

“Well, now… if we are assigning responsibility,” Meghan interrupted, her tone blithe, “mayhap we should make Alison MacLean lay the fence?” She batted her eyes at her husband and brother and smiled.

Seana’s brows lifted in surprise.

“After all,” Meghan continued, “she started it. It was Alison who took the first goat, was it not? If ye ask me, I think she should be expected to lay the fence all by herself! Don’t you think so, Seana?”

Seana didn’t know what to reply. She blinked, bewildered by the question, until she looked directly into Meghan’s eyes and understood her intention.

Seana had to resist the urge to laugh, then. Meghan was a woman after her own heart. Seana played along. “Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “And I also think she should be expected to cut the wood for it, as well!”

Meghan nodded in agreement, looking quite serious.

Both men simply looked at them in turn as though they thought both Meghan and Seana mad.

“Och!” Meghan said, then, “And I believe she should have to do it while everyone else watches, too.”

Seana agreed. “In fact, we should all bring picnic meals and sit about to be sure she does not do it wrong!”

Lyon and Colin both remained silent, watching them curiously.

“Aye!” Meghan exclaimed, sounding suddenly even vicious and Seana might have been terrified of the look that came into her eyes, save that she was certain Meghan didn’t mean a word of it. “Oh, and someone should bring a whip in case she decides to stop for a drink of water!”

Lyon Montgomerie raised a brow at that, and studied his wife with a somewhat amused look upon his face.

Meghan winked at Seana, and then reached out with a small dagger and stabbed the boar’s rump. “Let’s do it!” she declared, and proceeded to slice a piece from the animal’s back. She handed the meat to Seana and then returned to carve herself a portion of the leg, which she then proceeded to rip into with her perfect teeth… teeth as blinding white as were Colin’s.

Seana couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing.

Meghan Montgomerie with her delicate beauty, looked absolutely ridiculous tearing into a hulking piece of meat like some lout of a man. She winked at Seana again, and then tossed the bone, still thick with meat, behind her at the cat, who walked over to sniff it, then blinked up at her mistress with as bemused an expression as Colin was giving her now.

Colin shook his head. “Women are a strange lot!”

Lyon Montgomerie nodded vigorously in agreement.

Meghan rose from her seat at the table. “Come, Seana!” She gathered foodstuffs to carry with her and motioned for Seana to do likewise. Seana rose a bit hesitantly, casting Colin a glance. He nodded encouragement and Seana gathered a few items from the table and then followed Meghan.

“Men!” Meghan exclaimed when they were out of hearing distance. “Och, if they wish to argue over nonsense,” she added, “they can verra well argue alone!”

Seana really had no idea what to say.

She hadn’t the least experience with families or arguments or any such things at all. She and her da had never fought that she could recall. Nor was it her place to speak out, when she didn’t even know the circumstances.

“I have lived all my life with men,” Meghan told her. “Whether they be brother or husband, they are all alike! Stubborn fools! We’ll let Colin and Lyon work it out,” she said, “and hopefully they will realize it does not matter who’s to blame here. What is done is done, and now it is time to heal and move on!”

Seana agreed wholeheartedly, and yet, she wasn’t certain those two men should be left alone. She peered back at the table as she climbed the stairs behind Meghan, thinking that men had been known to kill each other for far less.

“But do you really think we should leave them? They might do each other harm.”

Meghan waved a hand, dismissing the notion. “They shall be well enough alone. Colin has a temper, truly—more so than any of my brothers—but Lyon is more like to debate him to death. Now, tell me,” Meghan demanded, changing the subject and taking her by the arm as they fled up the stairs, “how long have you known my brother?”

It was apparent by the look in her eyes and the enthusiasm in her tone that she had wholly misunderstood their visit. Seana was warmed by the simple fact that Meghan would welcome her so easily, but she surely didn’t wish her to think that she and Colin—that Colin and she—the very notion was unthinkable!

Too long, she wanted to reply, but didn’t care to explain so much.

“We only just met at your wedding,” Seana said, and it was in many ways the truth, “but ‘tis not what you think!” she protested at once, and proceeded to explain.

She told Meghan everything… about Broc… about asking Colin for help… about everything except the stinging truth about how she and Colin had first met so long ago. Somehow, at the moment, it just didn’t seem to matter.

Seana turned once more at the top of the stairwell to peer down into the hall. Meghan didn’t miss her soft sigh as her gaze fell upon Colin. She turned to glance at her brother over her shoulder. He wasn’t listening to a bloody word Piers was saying to him, and Meghan smiled with delight.

She listened to Seana without interrupting, but after watching the two of them together at her table, she knew all was not as it seemed. These two shared something more—it was obvious in the way they looked at each other askance when neither thought the other was watching—in the way she touched her lips when she stared at Colin—and in the way she blushed just now as she assured Meghan over and over there was nothing between them.

“I really do love Broc,” Seana declared, and Meghan smiled.

Meghan thought perhaps Seana protested a wee bit too much.

“Of course you do,” Meghan said pleasantly. “Everyone loves Broc. Ye canna help but love the brute. Colin was right to bring ye here! We are going to do everything we can for you to win him!”

Seana blinked. “Broc?” she asked.

“Of course,” Meghan replied, and Seana turned a last longing glance over Meghan’s shoulder at Colin.

Meghan cast another glance behind her, and then nearly had to push Seana the rest of the way up the stairs, because it was obvious they would stand there forever otherwise. Colin had yet to turn his eyes from Seana even once.

She smiled a secret smile as they made their way to her bower, thinking her brother had finally met the woman who would bring him to his knees.

And it was about bloody time!

Cameron was going to spank Constance’s wee little bottom when he found her. It was growing dark now and she was nowhere to be found.

She was off again, chasing Merry no doubt. The poor beast was beleaguered by her, though Merry seemed inclined to put up with Constance’s antics somehow. She seemed to understand that Constance was but a child—a brat, no doubt—but a child nevertheless.

There was no hope for his little sister at this point. Since the death of his da she had run wild—even before that, because in truth they were men and had no notion what to do with a little girl in their midst. He could teach her to spit and to piss standing up, but that was about the sum of it all.

God’s truth, he didn’t even know where she was half the time anymore. If she didn’t crawl into his bed each night to hug him, weeping her little eyes out, he wouldn’t even know she was there. It was in those moments he most hated the English, for they had deprived his wee sis of the da she had loved.

For himself, he was a man already, and could fend for himself, but Constance… she needed winks and pats on the head, and sometimes a firm smack on her rump to keep her out of trouble.

Cameron loathed dealing with the English—murdering bastards that they were! But he was convinced FitzSimon’s daughter had poisoned Iain’s mind.

No one dared speak of Lagan’s death since the incident. It were as though everyone together had decided to pretend he hadn’t existed, that he hadn’t died so violently and unjustly. The events of that night were surrounded in secrecy, and Cameron couldn’t even get the details from his cousin Broc, though he’d asked a number of times. Broc answered him usually with silence, and when he did manage to reply, he would tell Cameron simply to ask their laird, and assured him that if Iain wanted him to know, Iain would say.

But Cameron knew he couldn’t ask Iain.

It was Iain who had ordered this silence. Whatever had happened that night when Lagan and Page had gone over the cliffside, Cameron didn’t know, but only Page had come back up. Lagan had not. And the simple fact that Iain could ignore Lagan’s death so coldly when he and Lagan had been flesh and blood… the fact that he could carry on with his bride as though the two hadn’t a care in the world… told him that Iain was not himself.

Aye, the sooner he removed the wench from their midst, the sooner all would return to the way it should be.

Page FitzSimon was no good for Iain—nor for Broc!

Never had he seen his cousin so enamored of a wench in all his life. Broc might deny it, but it was there in his eyes—he held her in such high regard. No one could speak a single ill word against her. It were as though he had appointed himself her guardian in Iain’s name. But it was obvious to Cameron that his cousin was smitten and if it were obvious to Cameron it must be obvious to everyone else. And where would that lead Broc and Iain in the end? Page would soon have them tearing out each other’s throats! Aye, it was best to get the wench away from all whom he held dear.

He felt guilty dealing behind Broc’s and Iain’s backs, but once Page was gone, and they could think clearly once more, they would thank him. He was certain of that fact.

Och, but her da was a bastard of the worst kind. He would certainly not wish to be FitzSimon’s daughter coming back into his fold.

But that wasn’t Cameron’s problem.

Cameron found FitzSimon’s camp easily enough. How it had not been discovered as yet was a mystery to him. The English were an arrogant, spoiled lot. As though he thought himself untouchable and did not care who knew of his presence, he flew his banner high from his gaudy silk tent.

Cameron might not have the experience of Iain or Broc but even he understood the stupidity in heralding your whereabouts in the middle of foreign territory. If a man did not wish to be caught upon enemy land, he slept upon the ground and covered himself with bracken. If he were idiot enough to make himself known, he would certainly bring more than seven worthless men into the fight.

But then, FitzSimon was an English moron who evidently cared more for his own comfort than he did for his life. If Cameron did not so heartily believe he deserved his bloody daughter back, he would be inclined himself to show the Sassenach bastard what it was to deal with real men—call him a boy, did they!