Chapter 11
Elsea had seen Brodie for the first time in the great hall of Kincreag Castle over two years ago.
When his obsidian gaze had caught on hers, she forgot how to breathe.
A gale storm spun through her, knocking her off kilter.
His magnetic presence drew her with a frightening intensity that made her whole body vibrate.
Having never felt anything like it, she retreated.
Still, she could not stop glancing at him and his compelling, masculine beauty—midnight hair and brows, a shadow of stubble on his square jaw, high cheekbones...
and those bewitching dark eyes. Had there ever been a more handsome man?
Nay.
His broad shoulders, trim waist, and thick arms beneath his fine Highland clothing proclaimed he was a formidable warrior.
When Torr told her his friend Chief Brodie MacCain wanted to meet her, she grew lightheaded with giddiness and nerves.
His hilt-roughened fingers near burning hers, Brodie lifted her hand and kissed her bare knuckles, his sensual lips and heated breath warming her skin. His enticing masculine scent of Scots pine, leather, and a hint of whisky intrigued her. Her pulse skittered.
Their first conversation about knife fighting in the middle of the packed great hall felt like they were alone in their own little world.
Everything else faded away as he captivated her and drew her under his spell.
She no longer wished to retreat. Nay, she barely stopped herself from stepping closer to him, touching him, yearning to be wrapped up in his enthralling presence.
When he graced her with that warm, inviting smile, he only grew more handsome. In a teasing, affectionate tone, he called her wee warrior, sending an amused thrill racing through her.
Encapsulated in a dream-like bubble, they shared a meal, laughed, and danced.
'Twas late when the cèilidh ended, but she could hardly sleep that night.
She lay awake, wishing he had kissed her.
Why hadn't he? Not enough privacy? His interested gaze had dropped to her lips several times during the evening, and she was sure she had stared too long at his, wondering what a kiss would feel like.
She'd never experienced one before, had never wanted to...
until now, and suddenly she was obsessed.
Brodie was different. He appealed to her in every way.
The next morn on the stairs when the two of them had been alone, he'd bestowed that spellbinding kiss, and she'd tumbled over the edge of something profound.
She had no name for the feeling, but it was a delicious, heavenly delight, an eager excitement to mesh herself to him.
She wanted to fist her hands in his plaid and never let him go.
In that moment, her heart bound itself to his.
He'd left, and the following six days of his absence were naught but torture. Would she ever see him again?
When the portcullis had raised with the clanging of metal and chains, and horses' hooves pounded over the cobblestones in the bailey, she'd glanced out the upstairs window, so stunned her breath stalled.
The orange light of sunset gleamed over his inky black hair and highlighted his smile when he'd greeted her brothers and shook their hands. Was he real? She burst into tears.
"What is it, m'lady?" Tilly asked.
"Brodie." Elsea gasped, her eyes locked on his face. "He came back."
"Oh, heavens." Tilly hurried to the window. "The handsome chief? Come now, lass. Your eyes will be red."
Grinning so hard her cheeks ached, she wiped the moisture from her eyes.
"Do you wish to change?"
"Nay." Not caring what she wore or how blotchy and red her face was, she dashed from the room.
"He came back. Thank you, God," she whispered as she descended the stairs.
By the time she reached the great hall, Brodie was greeting her father at the entrance. She halted behind her da, her gaze riveted upon Brodie's precious face. His entrancing gaze shifted to hers, and he smiled. Everyone stared at her, but she didn't care. She could not take her eyes from his.
"Lady Elsea," he greeted, his deep voice caressing. Like a dream come to life, he bowed and kissed her hand.
"Brodie... Chief," she blurted. Her face blazed at her bungled greeting, eliciting another grin from him.
He gave her a covert wink.
Happiness beamed through her.
That night at the cèilidh, while most everyone was dancing to the loud music, he'd whispered that he wished to talk to her in private. She'd suggested the laird's lug.
Trying to calm her wild heart rate, Elsea waited inside with the door open a crack.
A few minutes later, his boots clunked lightly on the stone steps.
His dark head appeared, and she widened the door, the hinges squeaking a bit.
He turned and grinned, then ducked inside the low doorway, joining her, then closed the door.
"'Tis a wee room," he whispered, unable to stand to his full height. His obsidian eyes glinted in the light from the candle she had brought and set on the floor.
"Here, sit on this stool." She motioned.
"Nay, you." He took her hands into his warm ones, his rasping skin teasing hers, and helped her sit on the low stool.
"We must be quiet," she said. "They might hear us through the spyholes." Though she did not ken how, with the loud and lively music of "Strip the Willow" and the foot-stomping sounds of dancing emanating from below.
Nodding, he knelt.
"I'm sorry there are no more stools," she said.
"This is perfect."
Since their faces were at the same level, she hoped he would kiss her. Excitement and anticipation flared in her chest.
"Lady Elsea." He kissed her palm, sparking off a heated longing, then his serious gaze locked on hers. "Since we met, you've taken over my heart and soul. I've hardly been able to sleep. Will you do me the grand honor of becoming my bride?"
She gasped, thrilling emotions consuming her, happy tears flooding her eyes. She threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Brodie. Aye! 'Twould be my dream come true."
His muscular arms surrounded her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Och. Sweet lass. How did I get so lucky?"
"I am the one who is lucky and blessed. I missed you so much this week." She drew back to look into his captivating eyes. "You stole my heart."
Framing her face with his hands, he leaned in and kissed her with gentle sweetness.
Wanting more, she parted her lips. He hummed a rasping, male sound and flicked his tongue against hers in a brief but potent stroke.
Dropping his hands to her waist, he drew her against him.
She inhaled his delicious male scent. Oh, how she craved him!
Her fingers twisted in the inky silk of his hair, holding him.
He indulged her once more with a deeper, feral kiss that reached down to her heart and claimed her as his.
He pulled back, breaking the kiss, breathing hard. He pressed his forehead to hers. "Saints, lass."
"Aye." Her heart raced with the thrill of him, and she knew not what to say. A fervid intensity flashed through her, and she could not wait to wed him.
"I wanted to ask you first, before I speak to your father, to make certain you're interested," Brodie said.
She grinned. "You knew I would be."
Pulling back a bit more, he searched her eyes and observed her with complete devotion. "I'd hoped."
He indulged her with a few more lingering kisses, and she never wanted him to stop. Her body was coming alive in ways she didn't comprehend.
He drew back. "I regret that I must get back to the great hall before we're discovered. Your da and brothers would call me out if they should find us here like this."
Her face burned, but he was right. "'Tis possible."
After another scorching goodnight kiss, she retreated to her chamber, her entire body buzzing with excitement, while he returned to the great hall. Giddy but also worried, she only slept for an hour or two that night.
While Brodie was meeting with her father in the solar the next day, asking for her hand, Elsea's stomach ached with severe anxiety. What if Da didn't approve? She would be devastated.
She waited in the dim corridor, trying to eavesdrop, but the thick oak door prevented her from understanding the words.
Brodie, smiling, stuck his head out and motioned for her.
Trying to clamp down on the tears of happiness that threatened to burst forth, she strode forward on shaking legs.
She bit her lip, hoping to conceal her eagerness.
Da stood behind his desk, his eyes a bit misty. "My dear lass," he said gruffly and came forward to take her hands. "This remarkable young man has just asked for your hand in marriage. Do you wish to marry him?"
"Aye." Unable to stop the rush of tears, she embraced her da.
"Heavens, I did nay realize you're head over heels for him."
Drawing away, she laughed as a tear ran to her chin, knowing she was ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. She shrugged and wiped at her eyes.
"Well, he is an impressive chief." Da shook Brodie's hand. "I'll agree to this match, Brodie, if you promise to always take good care of my darling daughter."
"Of course, I promise. She's a treasure." Brodie's affectionate gaze clung to her.
Contracts were drawn up for the marriage to take place in a few months' time. That evening, in the great hall, they held a betrothal ceremony. She gasped when Brodie slid an exquisite antique sapphire ring on to her finger. The dark blue gleamed in the candlelight.
"I thank you. 'Tis so beautiful." The tears in her eyes blurred his precious face.
He kissed her forehead.
A cheer went up from her clansmen.
"I have no betrothal gift for you," she confessed, for his ears alone. She hadn't known he was going to propose.
"You're the only gift I need," he murmured.
After he went home the next day, she'd told her father she wanted to get Brodie a nice betrothal gift. Da had agreed and given her the silver coins.