Page 12 of Highland Yule
Had he truly gazed at her as she swore he had? Dare she hope?
Naturally, guilt swiftly followed. How could she entertain such thoughts while home to say goodbye to her beloved? To the man, she had intended to marry? He’d been gone a year now but still.
“Aye, Colmac's good to his maandis a true hero,” Brighid gushed, her eyes wide with excitement. She issued a mock sword thrust. “Ye should have seen the way he cut down the man who pulled ye off yer horse, Rona. ‘Twas a mighty sight!” She glanced at Aaron. “Tell her then. Tell her how the Devil himself possessed Colmac when our fair lass was in trouble!”
“Aye, the berserker spirit possessed him good and true.” Aaron nodded. “’Tis rare to see a lad grow so passionate in battle.”
“’Twas ragin’ hatred mixed with stark fear,” Brighid added her eyes wider still as she linked arms with Rona.
“Why would he fear?” She frowned. “He’s a warrior, is he not?”
“Fear for ye, I’d imagine,” Brighid said.
“Aye,” Aaron agreed. “Fear that he was going to lose ye, lass.”
She nodded, understanding that. “’Tis understandable as he’s lost many.”
“Aye, but not ye, lass.” Aaron's tone grew somber. “Something tells me ye would have been an especially hard loss for him indeed.”
“Aye.” Brighid winked at her, clearly reverting back to their earlier conversation. “As I said, ‘twas a different kind of love.”
But how could that be? It was not. Simple as that. They were mistaken. The two of them were obviously caught up in their own romantic inclinations toward one another, therefore, seeing things that were not there.
She offered no response as they made their way into the great hall. Much like the hallway upstairs, it spoke to the current state of the clan. Most clans, actually. Except for her MacLomains. They always sustained even during the toughest of times. Some said magic must surely be afoot, but she’d never seen such evidence. They were just a strong unit well-fortified and soldiered.
The poor MacLauchlin’s, however, were never so favored by Fate, seen clearly in the faded nautical tapestries and scarce furnishings. Yet still, the people were kind and the hall decorated for the holiday with spruce and worn ribbons. A fire crackled invitingly on a hearth she had sat in front of many times while laughing and chatting with Colmac and Bróccín.
She greeted the Sinclairs and the men who had traveled with her, making sure all was well then joined the MacLauchlins. Her breath caught at the sight of Colmac in his plaid. He truly was a handsome man, towering over her in a way that made her feel safe and protected. His gaze lingered on her, and her heart pounded. While Bróccín had always looked at her with adoration, Colmac’s gaze had eventually grown cold and turned from her.
Not right now, though.
Not nearly.
Rather she spied masculine interest that caught her off guard.
Or at least she thought she did before it was gone.
She must be seeing things. Blasted all, she had let her kin get inside her head. Or so she surmised until Colmac stepped close and murmured in her ear.
