Page 14 of Defy the Highlander

He smiled because she was. “Nay,” he said. Then he sighed heavily, looking out over the rainy yard. “But I’m glad ye did. God knows, ye took a man ye dinna know and helped him. Mayhap it was just a bath, and just a basket with some bread and cheese, but ye dinna have tae do it. It is a kindness I can never repay ye.”

She looked at him seriously. “Ye said ye’ve been in Edinburgh for months,” she said. “Did ye ever have a position or a way tae make money? Or have ye been living in the alleys all this time?”

He looked at her, the glimmer in his eye dull. “I never had a position,” he said quietly. “I never even tried. I came tae Edinburgh… that’s not right. I dinna come. I ran; I ran tae Edinburgh.”

“Why did ye run?”

“Tae escape.”

“What were ye escaping?”

He exhaled softly. “Myself.”

It didn’t make much sense to Lilia. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to. A man had a right to his secrets, after all, and it wasn’t her place to pry. But it seemed to explain why she sensed sorrow and defeat from the man. She had since the moment they’d met and she felt a good deal of pity for him. Even if she didn’t know the root of his problems, she felt as if she wanted to help him.

This man who made lightning course through her veins every time he looked at her.

“Mayhap ye’ll stop running sometime,” she said quietly. “Until then, I’ll see what I can do about securing ye a position here. ’Tis better than living in the alleys of Edinburgh.”

He nodded, looking at the clean clothing he was dressed in, before turning his attention to her. “I’d be grateful,” he said. “Ye’ve been an angel, Lilia. I suppose we all need guardian angels and, right now, ye’re mine.”

She smiled bashfully. “I’ve been called many things, but never an angel.”

“That’s what ye are tae me. My angel.”

She smiled, embarrassed. They were still standing in the doorway together, but it seemed to Lilia that he was moving closer to her somehow. He unfolded his arms and his fingers casually brushed against hers.

Heart pounding, she was attempting to figure out how she should respond when a shout broke the spell. They both looked up to see Tynan running in their direction.

“I’ve got it!” he shouted, waving something in his hand. “I’ve got a razor for ye!”

Brody stepped back as the boy ran between them. “Stop waving that razor around, lad,” he said, grabbing the child by the wrist and plucking the sharp razor out of his hand. “Ye’re going tae slash people tae ribbons running about like that.”

“Can I watch ye shave?” Tynan demanded. “I can help ye!”

Brody lifted an eyebrow, glancing at a flushed Lilia, as he turned back into the cottage. “I’m sure ye can,” he said. “But I think I can manage by myself.”

Tynan wriggled about as if incapable of sitting still as Brody lathered up the savon d’alep and thoroughly saturated his beard. Using the reflection in the cold bathwater as a mirror, he began to carefully shave away at the bush on his face with Tynan giving him expert advice from a young man with no beard at all.

But it was an endearing moment. Brody had compassion and patience, something that Lilia could see in just those few brief moments. In fact, as she watched, she decided to speak to the stablemaster or the smithy to see if they could use Brody’s help. She’d offered to help him find a position and find one she would.

She decided at that moment that Brody McKay was not leaving Hawkhill.

He was here to stay.

CHAPTER FIVE

One week.

Brody had been at Hawkhill exactly one week and in that week, it seemed to him that he’d never known another life. Something about hard work and a pretty lass who came to visit him daily had him believing that his fortunes may have finally turned around.

The old stablemaster’s name was Angus Peele and Brody had quickly made himself indispensable to the old man. He only had two grooms working under him, men who were so low born that they could barely speak intelligently, but they were hard workers and did all the cleaning and feeding of the horses.

Brody had been taking care of grooming the horses himself and repairing their tack, which Angus tried to keep in good repair, but his fingers were twisted with a painful affliction that involved his joints which made it difficult.

Therefore, Brody took over the chore and spent his days repairing the worn harnesses and saddles, listening to Angus chatter nonstop while he chewed pieces of fat, green grass. He’d chew up one and start on another, which had turned his teeth a nice shade of green over the years.

They’d sit in the open door of the stable, watching the rain fall and speaking on any subject that struck their fancies. Angus would tell Brody such stories as having invented the horseshoe or being personally responsible for the creation of whisky, and Brody would listen as if he believed every foolish story out of his green mouth.