“I didnae say it wasnae.” Brighid set aside the comb, urged Rona to stand then looked her over, adjusting her MacLomain plaid around her dress. “Ye loved yer Bróccín well and true but ‘twas a different sort of love than what ye felt for Colmac.” Her gaze rose to Rona’s face. “Had he not loved his brother so much and turned his eye, things might have gone verra differently indeed.”
What was she talking about? Impossible. It could not be.
Rona stepped away and shook her head. “Ye dinnae know of what ye speak, Auntie. Ye cannae possibly be implying that Colmac felt anything for me beyond friendship.” She widened her eyes. “And even that was questionable in the end. He wanted nothing to do with me! Then he left without a backward glance.” She shook her head, recalling with crushing clarity the moment she learned he was gone. “He never even said goodbye.”
“Aye, and mayhap ye should look at that again,” Brighid said. “Mayhap ye should look at everything with fresh eyes.” She gestured at the pine tapestry Rona had weaved. “Because there was certainly something inhiseyes when I presented that to him.”
“Speaking of which, ye didnae have permission to do that.”
“But ‘twas for him.”
“’Twas for the castle.”
“Dinnae fool yerself, lass.” Brighid shook her head. “Ye always meant to give that to Colmac to bring him comfort.”
“Aye, but still, ‘twas not yer place.”
“Nay, its place is where it hangs.” Brighid nodded firmly. “If ye had seen the way Colmac looked at it ye would ken.” She snorted. “Then again, ye likely wouldnae have seen what was right in front of yer face anyway.”
“I see things just fine.” Or did she? Either way, now certainly wasn’t the time to dwell upon it. Yet she could tell by the stubborn determination in her aunt’s eyes the best way around this conversation was to redirect it. “I see things better than ye, I might add. Much better when it comes to knowing when one person fancies another.”
“Do ye then?” Brighid planted her fists on her hips and cocked her head. “What precisely have ye seen that makes ye such an expert?”
“I think mayhap ye should ask Aaron that question.” She smirked. “’Tis safe to say ye two are in far more denial than I ever could be.”
“Well, I...I,” Brighid stuttered, her face red against her white streaked brown hair.
“I...I, what?” Rona cocked a brow. “Love Aaron and just dinnae know how to tell him?” She shrugged. “I’ll tell ye how, just come out with it already!”
“By the bloody rood, ye’ve a tongue on ye, lassie!” Brighid ushered her out the door. “And an imagination that could get ye in trouble.”
“’Tis an imagination that sees ye happy, Auntie,” Rona persisted. They started down the hall. “I see the way ye’ve looked at each other all these long years, but ye’re both too stubborn and pig-headed to take what’s right in front of ye.”
“Ye need food,” Brighid stated bluntly. Chin up, seemingly of the mind to ignore the obvious, she nodded once. “Ye need nourishment to clear yer head. ‘Twill do away with yer fantasies.”
“Yet ye werenae there with food when I awoke earlier,” she pointed out. “Where were ye anyway? ‘Twas awkward waking up to a man in my chamber.”
“’Tishischamber,” Brighid reminded.
Oh, she knew that all too well. She could still smell Colmac's spicy masculine scent all around her. As if she had not been beneath his blanket but wrapped up in his arms. Against his hard body. Shocked by the direction of her thoughts, she barely caught what her aunt said.
“Colmac was determined to watch over ye.” Brighid shrugged, her tone a wee bit too sly and definitely not truthful. “So I rested as ye requested.”
They made their way down the barren hallway. Naught but a threadbare tapestry or two hung about.
“Ididrequest ye rest,” Rona conceded. “But that would not normally sway ye when ye’re set in yer ways.” She narrowed her eyes at her aunt. “What really happened? Because ye never would have left my bedside.”
“I trusted Laird Colmac to watch over ye,” Brighid finally relented, still lying through her teeth about something. “And I really was verra tired.” Her brows flew up. She fluttered her fingers over her chest as if still caught in the trauma of battle. “The fighting was quite terrifying!”
“Colmac isnae laird,” she reminded. “And enough of this. Tell me the truth. Why did ye really leave?” When her aunt remained silent, reluctant, Rona urged her on. “Just tell me already!”
“All right, all right.” Brighid shrugged a nonchalant shoulder. “I may have suffered a wee bit from yer potion.”
“My potion?”
“Aye, ye know.” She nudged Rona’s shoulder and whispered, “The one concocted by the witch.” Shoulders back, she nodded once, clearly the heroine in her own story. “I took a sip to make sure ‘twas safe for ye.” Her eyes rounded. “The next thing I knew, I was swept off my feet then sleeping soundly.”
Rona stopped and stared at Brighid, truly curious. “Swept off yer feet by whom?”
