Page 44 of Marry the Highland Villain
Conall frowned, confused by the change of topic. “I never told ye otherwise.”
“Nay, I ken that well enough. ’Tis only that… so many of yer folk see me as nothing more than Laird Auchter’s pawn, or else they hate me for bein’ related to the man, even though I have nay more loyalty to him than ye. And some, like yer brother, think I’m just the same as him—that I’m cut from the same cloth, asthe sayin’ goes.” She blinked her emerald-green eyes at him, and he swallowed hard at the unhappiness in them. “I wonder if ye’ll ever see me as anything more than that?”
“Ye’llalwaysbe more than that, Brigid Blackwood.” Conall’s words came out more harsh than he had intended, and he made an effort to control them. “Ye’re nae a pawn, and nae one person in the world can control who his kin are. Only a fool would hold it against ye. And as for bein’ just like the snake who sired yer mother…”
He put his hand on her shoulder and cupped her chin in his other hand to tip her gaze up to his. “Oliver is angry over losin’ our brother, and it blinds him at times. But I’m nae blind or a fool.”
Brigid furrowed her brow. “I never said ye were.”
“Then understand, and believe, that I ken full well that ye’ve never kenned yer grandfather. That ye’ve scarcely kenned aught about him and never met him. Mayhap never even seen him afore today.”
Conall caressed her soft cheek with his thumb, marveling as he did at how at ease she was with his touch.
“Ye cannae be like a man ye dinnae ken or a pawn of someone who’s never been in yer life. I ken that, so I ken that yer grandfather’s nae part of who ye are. His legacy isnae yers—nae unless ye choose it to be.”
Brigid shook her head. “I would never.”
“I ken.” Conall smiled as she relaxed, then bent to kiss her.
Brigid leaned up into his kiss, stepping closer until her body pressed against his, making it almost impossible for him to keep the kiss as light and gentle as he had intended.
After a moment, he stepped back. He was just about to ask if she had managed to finish her meal before the unwelcome interruption, and to ask about her plans for the day, since the wedding would be delayed, when a commotion at the now-closed gates stopped him.
Conall froze, pulling Brigid closer as he heard the muffled voice of one of the guards calling out for someone to halt.
Surely Auchter wouldnae be so cold as to return so soon?
The sound of someone hammering on the gates—not hard, but with definite intention and force—reached their ears, and then a female voice rang out a moment later.
“Laird MacKane! Open up, will ye?”
Another voice, lower and calmer this time, but still loud, clear, and identifiably female, spoke up next. “I dinnae think that’s the proper way to request entry, particularly of a laird. Perhaps…”
Brigid’s eyes lit up, and she pushed away from Conall, her expression luminous with such delight that there was no need for him to even ask if she knew who was at the gates.
“’Tis my sisters!” she cried, confirming his suspicions.
Brigid raced for the gates, her heart pounding so hard that she was scarcely conscious of Conall chasing behind her, gesturing for the guards to open the gates. Indeed, it was hard to breathe through the rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.
She’d been dismayed by the appearance of her grandfather. Dismayed and hurt, for it had not escaped her notice that, for all he’d spoken of being there for her as ‘kin’, he’d never once asked to see her, nor even mentioned her name. She doubted the old man even knew her name.
Then, there was Conall. With her, he was gentle, often kind in his own gruff way. Being around him filled her with warmth and a sense of safety she’d never enjoyed outside the presence of her sisters. Kissing him, being close to him…
Conall Barr was a man she could easily lose her heart to. She sometimes feared she might have begun to do so already. But then she would recall the way he had killed three men—two of them his own clansmen—and the way even his brother stepped back and avoided his temper when it was at its worst. And, at those times, she would recall her mother’s rule.
Brigid very much feared she was on the verge of breaking that rule, determined though she was to keep the promise she’d made. A part of her longed to break it, for what sort of marriage would she have if she couldn’t trust and love her husband? Another part of her, however, clung to the memory of her mother’s final advice to her and whispered that her mother would not have given it without good reason.
She couldn’t just ignore her mother’s wisdom, no matter how much she might wish to.
But now her sisters were here, and she could set aside the twisting feelings of uncertainty in order to greet them and welcome them to MacKane Castle—the place she was beginning to consider a potential home.
More than that, though, she wanted to introduce them to Conall, who was following at a much slower pace, and with an unreadable look on his face. He looked at Brigid as if he wasn’t sure whether to act like a laird and greet his guests properly or simply behave like an ordinary man meeting his betrothed’s kinfolk for the first time. Maybe he just wanted to turn around and disappear into his study until it was time for supper and he had no choice but to face them all. Brigid wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.
The heavy wooden gates opened far too slowly for Brigid’s liking, and, as soon as she was able to, she squeezed past the heavy oak panels and ran straight into the arms of the slim, red-haired woman who waited on the other side, dressed in modified riding skirts, with her hair pulled back into a tight braid.
Megan pushed past the guards, her eyes fixed on her sister and a smile of relief on her face.
“Brigid!” she cried, laughing with delight as her sister almost knocked her off her feet.
