Chapter Three
Hours later, havingbathed and dressed, Rona sat while Brighid combed her hair. Since Colmac had left, her thoughts had been on him and Bróccín. On their many childhood memories together. Especially that first day. She knew Colmac had been wary of her being informed of their hideaway spot, but in the end, relented to appease his brother.
Colmac had always done that, hadn’t he? Given in to Bróccín’s wishes? But then he had taken his role of big brother quite seriously. Not surprising considering Bróccín had been sickly in his youth and Colmac often watched over him. She imagined had their roles been reversed, he still would have been overprotective, though. It was just in his nature.
“Ye’ve a look in yer eyes I havenae seen in a verra long time, lassie,” Brighid murmured.
“Aye,” she acknowledged. “’Tis being in this castle close to Bróccín’s memory...our memories together.”
“’Tis some of that to be sure,” her aunt agreed.
She frowned. “’Tisallof that.”
“In part.”
Rona frowned at Brighid, unsure what she implied. “Inall.”
“Aye, then,” her aunt relented on a sigh. “Inall.”
Brighid repositioned Rona’s head and kept combing. Yet her aunt knew blasted well she had piqued her interest. “Pray tell, what is theotherpart then, Auntie?”
“Since ye asked,” Brighid replied fully aware she'd baited her niece, “the other brother.”
“I dinnae ken what ye speak of,” Rona fibbed.
“Aye, ye do, lassie,” her aunt said. “What ye seem to have forgotten, but my long memory doesnae, is that yer look now is one ye once wore.”
“Of course it is,” she said. “I loved Bróccín.”
“Aye,” Brighid agreed. “But never in the same way ye love the other one.”
“Auntie!” She spun on Brighid with wide eyes. “How can ye speak such of me? How can ye speak such of the dead?”
“I speak just fine of the dead,” Brighid cut back. “And speak nothing less than the truth about ye.” Before she could reply, her aunt went on. “I remember well the way ye gazed at the older brother there for a time. Yer heart was in yer eyes. Yer cheeks rosy with the same blush ye have now every time he crossed yer path.”
“Aye, there was a time I fancied him some,” she admitted. “But ‘twas Bróccín who held my heart in the end. My love for him was verra true.”
