Page 35 of Highland Yule
“Ye look fit to be wedded, lass.” Brighid’s gaze was misty. “Come, sit next to me a moment so we can talk as we should.”
“I thought we were talking.” She perked one brow then another. “All ye have to do is admit ye love Aaron. That would make ye a true expert on giving romance advice and all.”
“Och, we were just teasing and jesting.” Brighid tried to cover her tracks, circling the conversation back around to what she thought was good logic. “Though ‘tis always best to take my advice.” She shook her head, grabbed the ring, sat, and patted the bed beside her. “Nonetheless, that isnae what ye need to necessarily hear right now.”
Yet she suspected that was precisely what she would get from her aunt.
“Ye’ve told me everything, and I am happy ye confided in me,” Brighid began when Rona sat. “Though I cannae help but wonder what still has ye so conflicted because ‘tis clear in yer eyes ye are.”
Brighid considered her then went on. “Whilst ‘tis a hard thing to accept the love ye two gave up, ye said yerself Colmac being the sort of man who would do that for his brother, was part of why ye loved him. Not only that but ye’re not the sort of lass who would begrudge the actions of youth.” She gave her a pointed look. “Now ye’ve been given far more than most. Not only do both clans approve of the match,” her eyes grew round as saucers, “but Bróccín has given ye and Colmac his blessing from the afterlife.”
“So what is really bothering ye?” Brighid continued. She tilted Rona’s chin, so their gazes were aligned. “Because I know ye love Colmac with all yer heart. What, then, is holding ye back from sliding that ring on yer finger where it belongs?”
Honestly, once she sifted through her emotions, she knew the truth of it. “Fear.”
“Fear of what, lass?” Brighid asked gently.
“Of caring so much again,” she murmured. “Of loving a man so deeply who has the ability, if he sees no other recourse, to turn from me once more.”
“Aye, but ‘twas a lad who turned from ye all those years ago,” her aunt reminded. “And a man who turned back.”
“Colmac was a man fully grown when Bróccín and I were betrothed for years,” she reminded, “and he never put a stop to it. He was willing to let me marry his brother.”
Brighid’s gaze widened again. “Och, ye cannae fault him for that, lass. He was but seeing through a decision he made long ago.” Her eyes rounded even more. “What kind of man would he be if he tried to break up the love ye and Bróccín found?” She shook her head. “No man ye should be marrying, that is for sure.” Before Rona could respond, her aunt tucked the ring in her palm, quite serious. “Whilst my heart is truly saddened that Bróccín is gone ‘tis overjoyed that ye’ve another chance at love. A love that has been trying to flourish for far too long. Dinnae deny yerself that, lass. Not for fear. Not for anything in the world.”
“’Tis hard to imagine finally...” She broke off, almost afraid if she voiced it, she would awaken from a dream.
“But imagine ye must, lass,” Brighid insisted. “Ye must let go of the past, set aside yer fear and embrace love once more. Life is fleeting, Rona.” Emotion burned in her gaze. “Dinnae make the same mistake I did and turn from love yer whole bloody life when ‘tis ripe for the taking.”
“Och, Auntie.” She squeezed Brighid’s hand, glad to finally hear her admit such. “Aaron then, aye?”
Brighid eyed her for a moment, her cheeks rosier by the moment before she at long last relented. “Aye.” She sighed. “We have been so busy fighting what’s in front of us, the years fell behind.” She shook her head. “Dinnae let that happen betwixt ye and Colmac. Enjoy yer youth together.” Hope shimmered in her gaze. “Have some wee bairns for me to watch over, aye? Wee ones to love as much as I do ye.”
“Wee bairns?” Rona murmured, thrilled at the idea of little ones running around.
“Aye.” Brighid gave her a look that said she better answer correctly. “Ye’ll be wanting them, aye?”
“I had thought little about it ‘til now,” she said softly.
“’Tis telling that.”
She looked at her aunt in question, and Brighid continued. “’Tis telling that only now I see that whimsical smile on yer face when speaking of wee bairns. ‘Tis even more telling that ye didnae think about them all the time ye were betrothed.” Her brows arched. “Yet now ye do with naught but a ring in yer palm and no solid commitment.”
That was telling, indeed.
“The pipes are trilling,” Brighid went on. “’Tis time to go below stairs for the ceremony.” Her aunt looked her over one last time then nodded with approval. “Ye’re a fine sight, my lass. Verra bonny.”
“Thank ye.” She smiled at the lovely dress Brighid wore and the way she had pinned her hair back in a fashionable bun. “As are ye, Auntie.”
“Och, nay.” She waved off the compliment. “I stopped being bonny years ago.”
“Ye’re verra bonny and turn the lad’s heads just fine.” They stopped at the door. “Especially the one.” Rona rested her hand on Brighid’s forearm and met her aunt's eyes. “And ye’re wrong, ye know.”
Brighid’s brows swept up. “About what?”
“Ye’ve still plenty of years ahead,” she said. “’Twould be a shame if ye didnae cherish them the way God intended.”
Brighid muttered under her breath, yet did not deny the possibility.
“What of ye, my lass?” She looked from the ring to Rona. “Will ye cherish the years ahead as the good Lord intended?”
She gazed at the ring one last time and finally came to a conclusion—one she hoped she would not regret—then gave Brighid her answer.
