Part 76 (1/2)

Though it resounded with the voices of the serving girls, Til and the laughter of Brice's men, it no longer brought him joy to walk the halls of Kinloch House.

In every room he saw her. In the refectory, sitting beside Jamie^ listening to the booming voices of his men while she quietly ate. In the great hall, warming herself before the fire. In his sleeping chamber, lying beside him. Thoughts of Meredith tormented him.

He had never dreamed it would be so painful to let go.

He had waged terrible, bitter arguments with himself. If he were half a man he would ride to the Borders and take her. It had always been the Highlanders' way. But her plea, in her moment of pain, had touched him deeply. Home. For too long she had been denied the comfort of her home. Because of him. If he truly loved her, he had to give her what she most craved. And in that moment he had seen with perfect clarity.

Meredith needed her home. He had no right to deny her her heart's desire.

If she loved him, he thought with growing resentment, she would come to him. She would leave her people without a leader, without protection from the invaders to the south, and come to him. She would leave her gentle rolling hills behind and make her home with him. He studied the land, trying to see it from her eyes. Where he saw shady glens and waterfalls, she would see dark forests where the sun never penetrated.

Where he saw wide, peaceful vistas she would see a harsh, primitive wilderness.

What foolishness. She had a duty to her people. And he had a duty to his.

He frowned, cursing the day he had seen her standing at the altar, looking like an angel from heaven. If he had never met her, had never allowed himself to love her, he would not now have this terrible aching void in his life.

He cursed himself for wallowing in self-pity like some lovesick lad.

Pulling on his tunic he strode down the stairs and picked up an axe.

There were trees to be felled. He would feel better after a day of punis.h.i.+ng physical labor.

Darkness spread over the land. In his chambers Brice turned away from the balcony window and sprawled upon a low bench pulled in front of the fire. Below he could hear the sound of his men's voices, low, muted, as they discussed the events of the day. He had no desire to join them.

He heard the sad, haunting notes of Jamie's lute and felt a wave of regret. The lad missed her. Almost as much as Brice did. Jamie had blurted the truth earlier today while they had worked together in the forest. He'd admitted that when Brice returned without Meredith, he had felt as if he'd lost his mother again.

It had been a blow to Brice. But he vowed to spend more time with the lad to ease him through this sense of loss. In time the pain would cease. For both of them.

He lifted a half-filled tankard and drank. At a knock on the door he called,

”Enter.”

Angus entered, then beckoned for Mistress Snow to follow.

”Do we disturb you, old friend?”

”Nay.”

Brice stood and indicated the settle. The housekeeper took a seat but Angus preferred to stand.

Brice glanced from his friend to the woman. Both of them were grinning and looked as if they would burst if they did not soon share their news.

”Mistress Snow has consented to marry me,” Angus said.

Brice caught his friend in a great bear hug.

”I am happy for you.”

He turned to embrace the blus.h.i.+ng woman.

”For both of you.”