Highland Thunder (Isle of Mull Series) (18 page)

She scooted around him without another word, regretting her trip into the village even more. A wrapped bundle slipped from her arms, and she knelt to pick it up, but another’s hand grabbed it before she could. Her head jerked up to find Duncan glaring at her.

“I told you I would walk you home,” he growled.

***

He held tight to her bundle while his frustration mounted. Jamie’s love-struck grin fueled his fury—not to mention the warm smile she gave him in return.

He inhaled deeply as he fought the desire to turn around, tackle Jamie to the ground and beat his pretty face until his warped countenance offended any maid who dared to look upon him.

“Why were you talking to Jamie?”

“That is none of your concern,” she replied as she tried to reclaim her property.

He stepped closer and in a low voice said, “You are my
concern. Tell me what he wanted.”

She released a series of frustrated scoffing sounds and finally shoved the remainder of her belongings into his arms.

“You listen to me, Duncan MacKinnon. I am not
your
woman. I will speak to whom I wish.” She pushed past him, pulling Nellore along behind her.

He soon caught up to her, madder than ever.

“Have you no shame, talking to the likes of Jamie MacKinnon.”

“He is a fine warrior, respected by all, and I might remind you, he is also your friend.”

“He is a peacock,” he shouted, unable to bear her string of compliments for another man.

He would have sworn a smile passed her lips for a moment, but then her hands settled at her hips as she stopped in front of him.

“Be that as it may, you are crossing a line, Duncan. I am a grown woman, a widow not an innocent maid, and you must not shout in front of Nellore. It will frighten the lass, which won’t do since you seem determined to remain a presence in our lives—an ornery and unpredictable presence.”

He took a deep breath, realizing once again that he was overreacting. “I apologize for losing my temper,” he began, but she was quick to interrupt.

“Again,” she said.

“Pardon me?”

“Again. You apologize for losing your temper again.”

“Aye,” he gritted. “I apologize for losing my temper, but I will not apologize for caring.”

“Since when do you care
about me? Until the eve of your departure, I was certain you despised me.”

As memories of their last night together flooded his mind, a slow smile drifted across his lips. “And now?” he asked softly as he longed to reach out and take her into his arms and show her just how much he cared.

“There,” she said, pointing to his face. “Your countenance has changed yet again with your soft voice and warm eyes, like pools of black satin. Just moments ago you were ready to kill me. Do you have any idea how erratic you are? And how confused that makes me feel?”

He smiled; he couldn’t help himself. “Do you know that I am generally regarded as a humorous and lighthearted man?”

“Aye, so I’ve heard but have seldom experienced,” she said.

“And you are heralded as the embodiment of steady sense and reason, but before me stands a woman of temper and passion.”

She blushed—a first for him to see. The sight of her downcast eyes and crimsoned cheeks made his heart ache. “We seem to bring out the worst in each other,” she said.

“I never said that,” he smiled. Her color deepened further.

Wishing to end her discomfort, he took a few steps forward. “Shall we return home?”

She cleared her throat and scooped Nellore into her arms. “Aye, ‘tis what I’ve been trying to do for the better part of an hour,” she said as she hurried in front of him, but then she turned and glanced back slyly. “Although, I would like to remind you, Duncan, we passed your hut back in the village.”

“Just as I said. You are a woman of temper,” he grinned.

As they walked along, Duncan asked again about the subject weighing most on his mind; however, he aimed for a casual tone. “Brenna, will you appease my curiosity and tell me what Jamie wanted?”

“Why are you still prattling on about Jamie?” she groaned. “’Twas nothing. He merely asked if he might come for a visit tomorrow.”

“And I suppose you said that would be wonderful,” he snapped.

“Nay. I said fine. I said it would be fine. Not that it is any of your business,” she said.

“I do not think it fine. ‘Tis improper for you to welcome men into your home without a care to your reputation or your safety.”

“You come into my home whenever you choose regardless of my wishes,” she scoffed. “And as to my safety, I think you are my greatest threat. You have shown me glimpses of kindness, but more often than not you have been indifferent and wicked and…and…”

“And what?” he asked.

She put her hands around Nellore’s ears. “Indecent,” she whispered.

A slow smile curved his lips as her full meaning washed over him like a sensual caress, sending waves of heat pulsing through his limbs.

“I shall have to be better behaved in the future,” he said.

She tilted her chin a little higher and said, “Aye, see that you are.” Then she cleared her throat and started down the hill. She held Nellore tight as her pace quickened until she was nigh racing down the steep slope away from him. He laughed out loud as he gave chase. She squealed as she looked back, a mix of terror and humor playing a confused dance across her face. Reaching her door, she threw it open and hastened inside and slammed it shut.

He slowed his steps down to a walk as he approached her door, but he did not knock. He rested his head against the wood as he called to her.

Her rapid breathing was the only answer he received, but he spoke knowing she was there. “You never have to fear me, Brenna. I will never hurt you.”

“You have already hurt me,” she said through the wood.

He cursed, running his fingers through his hair. “I am sorry, lass, but I’ve vowed to change.”

Long silent moments past. His hands grazed the wood of the door as he imagined her hand on the other side.

“Never fear me,” he said softly.

“Never give me reason,” she said. Her voice sounded breathless. He swore he could feel the heat of her through the door.

“Leave my belongings outside the door and go away,” she said. “But be sure to come back when Jamie arrives tomorrow. I welcome your interference but only in this matter.”

He lingered a moment longer not wishing to feel the weight of her absence. Regardless of whether or not Brenna asked for his assistance with Jamie, he would be there, but it pleased him to no end that she sought his aid. Did he make her feel safe despite all that transpired between them? Poor Jamie, he, who by all accounts, was a trusted friend and a brother on the battlefield, did not know what he had done. He declared war against Duncan, and Duncan would fight for what was his.

Chapter 17

Brenna stared at the low flames of her fire pit, trying to lose herself in the flickering dance. Orange embers gave way to blue fire, which sprouted orange flames like flower petals, fanning out and shifting as a draft crept in from beneath the door. Her eyes followed the thin smoke as it curled, caressing the air in a sensual dance before drifting through the roof, free from the confines of her hut.

She closed her eyes and imagined the night air carrying the wafting smoke across the garden to the barn. She pictured the flare of Duncan’s nostrils as he smelled the scent of her fire.

“For mercy’s sake,” she said aloud as she stood from her chair and kicked dirt on the embers, smothering the flames.

Once again, fire and fury filled her soul. She had felt certain whatever ailment she suffered was over, and she had returned to her old, reliable self. She slid under the covers, ignoring the voice in her head that spoke of the disturbing coincidence between the return of her unrest and the return of Duncan. She refused to believe one had anything to do with the other.

Then a low rumble sounded in the distance, causing Brenna’s eyes to fly open. A storm approached. Of course, an incoming storm would explain her burgeoning excitement. Storms always unleashed her impulsive side. She threw off her blanket and turned to Nellore’s pallet to tuck the covers tighter around her shoulders.

She opened the door to the first storm of autumn. The air was thick and restless. She breathed it in, feasting upon the penned up energy about to be released. Thunder rumbled, closer than before—a fierce promise of what was to come. Brenna’s spirit surged along with the building storm. It called to her, but despite the weeks that had past free of ghostly intrusion, she dared not go out into the night.

Soft drops fell, cool and crisp. She leaned forward and tasted the chilled drops on her tongue, reveling in anticipation. Then bright fingers of lightning darted like silent ghosts across the sky, illuminating the raw beauty of summer’s farewell. The steep hill was cloaked in the violet of nightfall. Her breath caught in her throat as a boom followed that shook the earth beneath her feet and the heavens opened, releasing sheets of rain.

With a deep breath, she stepped just beyond her doorway and stood still, letting the rain wash over her.

The water cleansed her, body and soul, soothing away her grief and worries. At the same time, the wildness bolstered her strength, filling her with power, giving her freedom from the constraints that ruled her everyday life. She felt a part of the fierce tumult barraging down the moors and surging up from the sea.

Threads of lightning wove around the clouds, revealing a sky that writhed and undulated as it pounded the earth with pelting raindrops that washed away reason and burst her dam of control. Her heart pounded in her ears, matching the din of the thunder that called to her, tempting her with its power.

“You are beautiful,” a voice whispered, coming up beside her.

She whirled around and found herself staring into Duncan’s bare chest. She gasped as she looked up just as a bolt of lightning flashed overhead. His sleek, wet hair was blacker than the thick clouds above. The intensity within his dark eyes stole her breath. He was as raw and formidable as the tempest whirling around them. His fingers grazed her cheek and throat. She leaned her head back exposing her neck and chest to his touch. Her body trembled as he drew closer. His lips trailed down her throat, turning her blood into liquid fire. Then he cupped her face. A breath away, his lips hovered just above hers. She could barely draw breath as she stood unmoving, suspended beneath the heat of his mouth. Longing, waiting. The torment was too great.

Then he straightened and pulled away. She was about to protest when he reached behind his back and withdrew his sword.

“Get back inside,” he growled.

Then she heard it too. A moan drifted on the breeze almost indistinguishable from the howl of the wind but for the hint of melody that shaped its sound.

Duncan’s eyes widened in alarm as the mournful song intensified, drifting on the wind. Notes of sorrow wrapped around Brenna’s heart. The torment stole her breath as she choked on cold dread.

“’Tis the creature,” Brenna said, as her hands flew to her ears, blocking the fey song. “Nellore,” she cried and raced inside.

Chapter 18

Duncan stood in the darkness as he felt his courage falter for the first time in his memory. Whoever crooned the haunting song penetrated the night with a sadness that was palpable and terrifying.

Brenna’s door swung open as she stuck her head outside. “Duncan, are you mad? Hurry.”

A shiver crept down his spine as he turned away from danger and rushed inside.

“What is that?” he asked, his pounding heart competed to be heard over the din of the storm and the wail still carried on the wind.

“’Tis still out there,” he said.

“’Tis the creature that intrudes upon my land,” Brenna said. “She wants something from Nellore.”

“I was told a man was spotted, a tinker or a MacLean.”

Brenna shook her head. “’Twas a lie, a fabrication we invented to protect Nellore.”

Duncan began to pace the room. “Who do you refer to when you say ‘we,’ and how does a lie protect Nellore?”

“The answer to your first question is Anna and Bridget, and with regard to your second question, I should think it obvious.”

He shook his head. “You will have to enlighten me, because, by my troth, I do not ken.”

“If you recall, Duncan, Nellore is not my true daughter. Bridget found her abandoned on the moors. If word spreads that a fey wind blows this way, some might regard Nellore’s coming as a bad omen.”

“You honestly believe the clan would turn against your daughter?” he said.

“If they were frightened enough, then I believe they would do anything to appease whatever is out there, even if that meant handing over Nellore. No one must know, Duncan.”

Duncan stopped pacing and listened. The storm had moved out to sea, and the night was quiet but for the rush of the swollen river. He wanted to deny her claim, but he remembered the fear that anchored his feet to the ground as the eerie refrain filled the night. Fear was a powerful force. It drove men to desperate acts.