‘’Tis the way of things, Alan. Every man must decide his place in the scheme of things and if he can live in it.’ Releasing him, Brodie picked up his cup once more and filled it from the jug there on the table. ‘I have watched you walk this impossible path between our clans for years. Since you grew hair on your b—well, since you became a man.’
Irritated by Brodie’s ease in seeing the pattern of his life, Alan cursed again and held out his own cup for more. ‘And? So?’
‘I wonder if ’tis time for you to make your stand with him.’
Since the words mirrored his own thoughts, it was difficult to argue with them or the man who spoke them now. Brodie had known him since he was but a boy and had provided a shelter to him when he needed it. His debt to Alan was long settled, but Brodie had never taken back his support. Some would say, and some had, that it was just to keep pricking at Gilbert. Some said it was just to use his abilities as a tracker. Alan kenned the truth—Brodie was an honourable man and stood by those he called friend.
‘It is coming sooner than I’d thought it would,’ he replied, accepting that knowledge for the first time.
‘Does this mission you undertake on my behalf have to do with the lovely and accomplished Widow MacPherson?’
‘Aye.’ One word spoken and he’d made his claim. He needed Brodie to understand the rest of it. ‘She is hiding something.’
‘Does not every woman do that before she trusts a man?’ Brodie asked. Arabella, Alan kenned, had hidden many things from her future husband. Not strange considering that Brodie kidnapped her from her own wedding and held her prisoner. ‘’Tis the telling and revealing of those secrets that sometimes lead to love.’
‘My uncle cares not for love or trust, Brodie. You ken him. I need to find out what she hides before he can discover it and destroy her.’
‘As he did Agneis?’ Brodie asked. Alan nodded. ‘The problem there was thatyouwere her secret and she yours. Your uncle found two weapons in one and wielded them expertly. Will he do that once more?’
Alan threw the cup before he’d even thought to do so and it crashed into the wall just above Brodie’s head. To hear his past put so coldly into words made him want to rage and strike out.
‘You have swallowed your uncle’s insults and injuries for a long time, Alan. What makes this woman the one for whom you would go to war with him?’
That was what had kept him up these last nights. He kenned that something was different in the way he felt about her from their first meeting. Mayhap it was because he kenned she was the one worth fighting over? Or that this was a perfect mix of the woman, the love he felt and his own readiness?
‘Simply put, Brodie, she is the one who makes me want to do just that.’
Brodie did not speak immediately. Instead, he saw to the cup on the floor first, giving that declaration time to sink into Alan’s mind. Did the young man he thought of and treated like his own son know the importance of those words? Did he understand what would come his way?
The widowed Saraid MacPherson was not the only person with secrets to be withheld or revealed in this. Confidences were held, actions covered over and old wounds to be torn open if Alan followed this path. Brodie could not tell him the right or wrong of it, for it was not his place to say such things. But, at the same time, he would not mind Gilbert Cameron facing his past and being found wanting.
‘Have you asked her for the truth? Have you told her about your own past?’
He could tell from Alan’s expression that he had not. Someone with Alan’s skills was more adept and experienced in finding out and gathering knowledge about another than in sharing his own.
‘Speak to her first, before seeking out anything else about her,’ he suggested.
‘And if she holds her secrets to herself?’
‘Then, ’tis up to you.’
He did not say more, for the fact that Alan understood his choice lay there plainly on his face. Brodie had fallen in love with his Arabella knowing she kept secrets and betrayed him. And Bella had loved him in spite of believing Brodie had killed her brother. Their love, born in the fires of hell, was the strongest kind of love—one tested and toughened by the obstacles they’d had to face and overcome. It had never been easy, but every moment of it was worth any pain he’d paid to claim her.
‘If your uncle summons you, what should I tell him?’
This journey was going to happen, Brodie had no doubt of it. From what he’d seen of Alan and the widow, the love was there already. The only question was could it survive the coming challenges. When his Arabella offered her counsel, she told Brodie she believed it would. She’d stated confidently that Saraid MacPherson would not spend one day inside the walls of a convent.
But his beloved did not ken the depths and darkness of her uncle as Brodie did. Looking at Alan now, Brodie knew the young man was strong enough to face his uncle, he just did not know if he was strong enough to face and survive the coming revelations from everyone else around him.
‘That I will return soon and will answer his call as quickly as I am able.’
Alan held out his hand to Brodie and Brodie took it, clasping him tightly. There was more he would like to say, but Alan must discover many things on his own and it was not Brodie’s place to interfere right now.
‘Try not to start any new feuds in my name,’ he did advise.
‘Brodie,’ Alan began. ‘I would...’
‘There will time enough to speak on matters of all kinds later, Alan. Seek her truth and yours.’
