Page 34

Putting her faith in Broden?

Trusting that whatever this thing budding between her and Broden, it was worth pursuing?

“Does this mean ye intend to formally court me, Broden?”

Today was Kendra’s day for boldness, it seemed.

That mischievous twinkle appeared in his rich whisky-tinted eyes that she so adored. A more intent glint, hinting at a secret promise, gleamed there, too. “Aye, lass. I’ll need to speak with yer brother first. I’d no’ have his displeasure aimed toward me for oversteppin’.”

Liam would approve.

Broden was his best friend, and if Kendra was willing to accept Broden’s attention, she could fathom no reason Liam would object. Other than he’d be dumbfounded at the request. Possibly think they’d both taken complete leave of their senses. Or that Broden was making a May game of him and playing him for a clodhead or a numpty fool.

He’d believe every one of those reasons before he accepted Broden had a romantic interest in Kendra. Mayhap, it would be wise for her to be present when Broden spoke to her brother.

Yes, that was the best course.

She passed Broden the basket of apples. “Why dinna ye accompany me to the stables, and after we give the horses the apples, we can have a word with Liam?”

“We?” Skepticism skated over Broden’s lean face.

“Aye. I fear Liam will no’ believe ye unless I give my assurances that I desire yer attentions.” A flush warmed her from waist to hairline at the declaration.

A rather smug, definitely primal, male expression descended onto Broden’s features, but he only said, “Aye. I’d like to have the matter settled before I leave for England.”

Kendra’s chest cramped, reality tempering her newfound happiness.

Broden would leave tomorrow—to plunge headlong into the life of an English aristocrat. He’d now have opportunities and access to powerful people beyond anything he might’ve conceived. His life would never be the same.

How could it?

What if… What if he found that he preferred that privileged life?

If he preferred his English estate? Needed a delicate, refined English rose as his countess?

She gave herself a firm mental shake and silent scold.

No, the Broden McGregor she knew was a Highlander through and through. Scotland was in his very bones. While they had locked horns many times over the years and gone toe-to-toe with their verbal sparring, she’d never once known him to be a man who didn’t keep his word.

As they strode the path to the stables, he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. She quite liked how comfortable and natural the gesture was.

Little whiffs of his soap and cologne wafted to her.

Had he always smelled this divine?

A cow mooed, and another answered. The cattle’s thick, shaggy coats protected them from the Highland’s harsh winters. One of Kendra’s favorite things to do was to visit the newborn calves in late spring, their impossibly big brown eyes so sweet and trusting.

Lifting her face to the sky, enjoying the feeble rays of sunshine valiantly shining through the smattering of clouds, she narrowed her eyes. The day had started well enough, but the ominous clouds gathering on the horizon portended more rain.

Perhaps even snow, given how cold it had become the past two days.

She could only hope the weather wasn’t too unforgiving, for Broden and the others departed in the morn. No matter what. Traveling in the rain was miserable enough, but in snowfall, nigh onto hellish.

They entered the stables, the comforting scents of warm horseflesh, hay, oats, and liniments filling the cozy atmosphere. As a child, she’d spent a great deal of time playing in the haylofts, often spying on Liam, Broden, and Quinn.

Sheik poked his great head over his box and whickered for Broden.

“I just rode ye,” Broden said, the smile in his voice belying any reproach. “Ye canna miss me that much already.”