Highland Thunder (Isle of Mull Series) by Lily Baldwin Page B

championed me then?” he said.
    “Aye. You have Margaret to thank for your fine accommodations,” Brenna began. “If it were not for the lady’s harping, you’d still be sleeping under the stars.”
    “It would seem I am in Margaret’s debt. I must offer my thanks when next I see her.”
    “Don’t you dare, Duncan. If that awful woman believes I’ve heeded her advice, I’ll be forced to suffer her council for the rest of my days. A worse fate I cannot imagine.”
    Duncan finished knotting the bandages. “You need not worry. I go to great lengths to avoid Margaret’s company. ‘Tis sorry I am that Rona distresses you so, because she will return on the morrow. I am leaving for at least a fortnight, and your hands will need to remain covered for a few days longer.”
    “Oh,” she said. “Where are you going?”
    “Just away, but Ronan will expand the watch to include your land. I’ve also instructed Kenneth’s youngest brother, Liam, to sleep in the barn and make sure you have all you need. He’s a good lad and strong despite his age. You’ve naught to fear.”
    She turned her gaze to the window, her mouth set in a grim line. “You dismissed my question as though I were a child.” She grabbed Nellore and headed for the door. Before leaving, she turned and said, “Trust begins as respect, Duncan.”
    Duncan hesitated. It never occurred to him that Brenna might ask where he was going. He had no brothers or sisters. His mother had died when he was a lad. It had been years since someone had concerned themselves with his whereabouts.
    He stepped outside and spotted Nellore playing near the forest. Brenna had removed her scarf and was dipping it into the river. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Water sluiced from the fabric as she wrung it out. Then she pressed it to her cheeks and neck. He came up behind her.
    “Are you well?” he asked.
    “My skin is on fire. ‘Tis a hot day,” she said.
    Her words flooded his mind with images of her skin, hot and slick with sweat. Her hair tangled in wild disarray, her lips, bruised by his kiss, making a trail of heat down his throat.
    “God’s blood,” he swore.
    “What have I done now,” she said, glaring at him from her place by the river.
    “Nay,” he said, going to her. “’Tis nothing you’ve done. I am vexed with myself.”
    “Aye, well at least we can agree on something,” she said as she pressed the wet cloth once more to her cheeks. She did appear flushed. He felt her forehead. “’Tis a mild day with a breeze. You should not be this warm.”
    “I ken,” she snapped as she stood to her full height. “But that does not change the way I feel. I know what I should be. I should not be concerned with where men go. I should be content knowing my place. Content to be prudent. Content with my duties. I’ve spent my life striving to be what was right, and I’ve been satisfied.” She squeezed her hands into tight fists. “But I have something inside of me,” she whispered as tears filled her eyes. “’Tis restless, urgent. I do not ken what it is, but reason tells me it can never be satisfied, which makes me so angry I wish to scream and never stop. And it grows larger by day.”
    “Given your loss and the uncertainties you face, ‘tis no wonder you are not content,” he said.
    “Content? You do not ken what I am telling you, Duncan. I no longer wish to be content,” she said. “I wish to matter.”
    She turned away, but he took hold of her arm and spun her around. “What is it that you need, Brenna?”
    She grabbed hold of his plaid as she gritted, “For the first time in my life, I’ve no father, no husband to answer to or please, and ‘tis as though I do not exist. The women tell me to find a husband—how can I care for Nellore without one? You tell me to give up my land—what good is it without a husband? I ask you, my reluctant guardian, what takes you from me for a fortnight and you dismiss me.”
    “Forgive