“Well now, I suppose maybe we’re the unlucky sods for nae having someone to make us that impatient.”
Cullen slid his cousin a raised eyebrow. “Does that mean yer taking another bit of thinking over Bronwyn McQuade?”
“Nae.” Druce said it too loudly.
Cullen smirked. “Nae? It sounds like ye might be thinking o’ it.”
Druce snickered, his voice low and mocking. “You first, laddie. I want to make sure she’s fed before I go too close to her claws.”
“Och well, nae every man has the amount o’ courage I’m blessed with.”
A couple of retainers laughed at Druce’s expense. He pointed a finger at Cullen. “I cannae wait to see ye tame her. Ye won’t be the first man she’s sent howling from her with his tail between his legs.”
Cullen frowned as more heads turned to listen in on their conversation. Druce smiled, enjoying his discomfort.
“Unless ye’ve lost some o’ that great courage, cousin.”
Chuckles surrounded him, raising his temper. “We’ll see.”
“Will we? I cannae wait.” Druce smirked. “Truly I cannae.”
“Ye will.” Cullen kneed his horse forward. The snickering behind him sent his temper to boiling. He didn’t care if he’d started it, the idea that any lass might be so hard to handle didn’t sit well with him. His brother was right. Marrying up with Bronwyn would settle a great many scores. His aching back found it a fine idea. Besides, beneath his teasing exterior was a son who had been raised with the same sense of duty that Brodick had. Marrying for the benefit of the McJames people was his future. ’Twas not just any bride he needed. Bronwyn McQuade was, in fact, a fine choice to be contemplating.
Now if he could only manage a way to getting close enough to the lass without getting his neck stretched on a rope by her father and brothers. That was the real trick. Not taming her.
There wasn’t a lass alive that was too strong to resist his charm. It might be a wee bit of fun to pursue the stubborn lass just to see how fast she succumbed to his touch.
The bells didn’t ring upon his return.
Brodick had ordered that custom stopped when his father died. He didn’t feel worthy of the bells announcing his return until he proved his worth as the new Lord of Sterling. ’Twas not something that could be done in the three short years he’d held his title. He rode through the open gate with pride tonight. All the discomforts of the last five weeks dissipated as he looked over the peace of the courtyard. Men walked the walls, the fires were burning evenly and all of its inhabitants slept in ease.
That was the duty of the McJames.
The sword on his back was never too heavy. But he was glad to be home again. Swinging his leg off the back of his horse, he gave the animal a firm pat before letting a stable lad take the reins. The youth looked stunned for a moment, hesitating because Brodick normally cared for his own steed.
“Do a good job of rubbing him down, lad, and I’ll see a reward to ye.”
A smile parted the boy’s face. “I’ll be like his mother.”
Men began spilling through the open gate, their voices cheerful. Lights began to flicker in the tower as wives and families roused. He looked up toward the chamber his wife slept in but saw no hint of light in the window.
That didn’t discourage him.
All it did was unleash a wicked desire to wake her up.
He stopped halfway up the steps. Inside he caught a whiff of sweet lavender from the candles. A deeper breath gave him a hint of what his body smelled like. Turning around he moved toward the bathing room. The erection standing at attention behind his kilt would just have to wait until he removed the stench of horse and sweat.
His wife had a pretty nose that he had no desire to see wrinkled.
The kitchen was already lit up, Bythe and her helpers smiling with welcome. Several retainers had made their way to their families, joy spilling into the darker corridors.
“Bythe, I’ve need o’ a bath and I dinnae care if it’s cold as a spinster.”
“Aye, my lord. It will be chilly, the fires are low.” She wrung her hands, looking about nervously.
“No matter, ’tis no reason to fret. Send the water.”
One of the maids scurried into the bath room with a candle. She touched the flame to the wicks of the candles mounted on the walls, bringing them to life. With a hasty lowering of her head, she departed. Water began splashing down the trough and into the tub. It gurgled, making a happy sound, and Brodick shed his clothing, grateful to be back in civilized surroundings. He was thirty-four years old and happy to relinquish the desire to ride through the night to the younger men who still considered it gallant.