Her mother smiled weakly at Bridget. “Mah girl. Come closer.”
Bridget did as she asked and pressed her face into her mother’s blanket, breathing in the faint rose scent that always clung to her. “I dinnae want ye tae leave me!” she cried, her tears soaking into the blanket.
“Och, mah girl,” her mother murmured, her hand touching Bridget’s hair. “I will never leave you. But God wants me back...and I must go.”
Bridget lifted her head, meeting her mother’s watery gaze. “But wot are we tae do without ye?”
Leathen let out a sob before he could catch himself and pressed his face into her mother’s hair, his shoulders quaking.
“Ye will love each other,” her mother finally said, giving her a faint smile. “And ye will live yer lives as ye would have even with me here with ye. I might not be in person, but I will always live in yer heart, Bridget. Remember that.”
Bridget was moved after that, allowing the others to say their goodbyes. No one noticed as she sat in the corner of the hut, curled up in a quilt that her mother had made for her when she was born and prayed to God not to take her mother from her.
They didn’t listen. Before the sun set on another day, her mother was gone and her father, she had never heard him wail in such a manner before, knowing that it would be a sound she would never forget.
Bridget shook out of the memory, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes. “My da, he told me once that they were a match honored by God and that they needed her more than we needed her.” She drew in a breath. “I dinnae know if I believe it then or now.”
“I’m vera sorry, lass,” Bruce said after a moment. “’Tis hard tae lose those ye care aboot.”
She looked over at him and saw that his gaze was reflective of his words. “Wot aboot ye?” she asked. “Did yer parents die in the fire?”
For a moment, he looked confused, but then he cleared his throat, looking away. “Aye. Mah da was a warrior, and my mother was the bravest lass he had ever met. She always laughed when he said that she saved him, but I believe she did.”
Bridget rested her chin on her raised knee, watching the display of emotions cross his face. He looked as if he missed his parents greatly, and her heart softened even more. Reaching over, she patted his shoulder. “I’m vera sorry for yer loss.”
Bruce looked over and then reached up, grabbing her hand and placing it in his. Bridget gasped as she felt the connection between them, how he immediately warmed her insides with a simple touch.
“Ye are too kind,” he murmured, rubbing his callused thumb over the top of her hand. “Too kind for the likes of someone like me.”
“That isnae the truth!” she cried softly, being brave and leaning her head on his shoulder. She heard the sharp intake of his breath before his body relaxed. “Ye are kind, Bruce. I will be the first tae admit I had mah doubts, but after last night...” He had helped save the tenants as well as herself. That was a true view of his character to Bridget. He and Marcus could have fled with the rest and not helped, but they had, and in her heart, she knew that she was having feelings for him.
Could she ask him to stay? Her father seemed to think that he would be gone soon, but could the draw of the farm, the freedom of settling down and starting a life with her keep someone like Bruce here?
There was something she could do to entice him to stay.
Lifting her head, Bridget met Bruce’s gaze. “I wish tae tell ye our secret of why we dinnae need a laird.”
“Lass,” Bruce began, his voice heavy, “I dinnae need—”
“Nay,” she interrupted, giving him a small smile. “Ye are now part of our tenants, part of our family. We dinnae share it with everyone, but ’tis not every day that the entire farm starts tae trust in a person like ye.”
He didn’t look like he believed her, but Bridget drew in a breath. “There is a cave underground that mah grandfather found when he was looking for a place tae hide from the laird’s warriors. He, err, had stolen the laird’s daughter’s—err...innocence.”
Bruce let out a bark of laughter, and Bridget’s flush deepened. She had told the story many times over to the tenants that ended up staying on, but because it was Bruce, she was finding it difficult to do so.
“He found some barrels, and when he opened them, they were filled with coins. Instead of running with them, he decided tae purchase the land that we now sit upon.” Bridget smirked. “’Tis the way we can thrive without a laird tae guide us.” A lightness filled Bridget now that she had divulged their secret to Bruce. It was now his decision to what he did in regard to his future with the farm.
“Why did ye tell me, lass?” Bruce asked after a moment, his eyes on hers. “Why tell me yer secret?”
“Because,” she said simply, “I believe that ye could be mah da’s successor one day.” While she knew that her father wanted her to be that person, Bridget was content in just being a tenant and perhaps the wife of his successor.
A wife.
She had never put much thought into being a wife until Bruce walked onto the farm and made her think of a life that she didn’t know she wanted.
“I dinnae tell ye this tae scare ye off,” she finished. “I only wish that ye will think upon it.”
Bruce’s mouth worked. “Aye,” he finally said. “I will think on it.”
