“We’ve always been broken,” Brodie replied. “That hasna changed.”
Aiden cocked his head to one side. “Hasn’t it, though? Rosalind ran away vowing never to return. Yet she’s here, with a loving husband and a child on the way.” Brodie continued to stare at the water, so Aiden continued. “Then there’s Brock, so fearful of his temper, yet he’s calm and happy with Joanna and soon to be a father as well.”
“That doesna mean you and I will be the same,” Brodie muttered.
“Maybe not me,” Aiden agreed. “But you? That woman loves you. I know you all think me damaged and that I canna and willna ever be whole, but I see things more clearly than you ken. I see life all around me, see the way it pairs things together, the falcon and his mate, the otters in the river, the wee creatures in the ponds. Animals know their mates. Men are the ones who hesitate, who let clouds gather to cover what fate has shone a light on for us. You have a mate, brother, and you have no reason to turn away from her except for your own fears.”
Brodie sighed. “I don’t trust myself, Aiden. I fear everything about life, at least the parts that matter. I am a coward, and I am cruel.”
At this Aiden laughed, but he felt a pang of guilt for it given the dejected look on his brother’s face. “Brodie, you are no coward. You leave when you know it’s the only way to survive. Not every fight is worth using one’s fists. You fled because it spared Lydia having to choose between you and her father. She knows that. And you are not cruel. You speak in haste and can say things that wound, but you are like a badger with an injured paw. You lash out with no true desire to hurt others, only to protect yourself. That can go away in time. And with love. Both of which you have within reach.”
Aiden saw the light of understanding creep across his brother’s face.
“You are a man who survives,” Aiden added more quietly. “But you canna survive with a broken heart, and you canna survive without her in your life.”
Brodie was quiet a long moment before he straightened his shoulders, and then he looked up at the glorious skies above them.
“You’re right. Perhaps it is time I stopped running away from everything and started running toward something.”
“Someone,” Aiden corrected as he and Brodie climbed off the rocks. “And you’d best start running now.”
“Hush, pup!” Brodie laughed as he took off toward his horse.
Aiden took his time returning to his own horse and slipped the pretty mare a few bites of apple while he stroked his palm down her chestnut nose.
“It is just you and me now, I suppose,” he told the horse. The mare nickered and bobbed her head before nudging her nose against his shoulder playfully. Aiden looked toward the horizon, watching the sun vanish and the purple hues gather in the woods to take its place.
“If I be so broken, then let me go in these twilight shadows,” he murmured, thinking of an old story of a fairy princess who had rescued a brokenhearted Highlander. But a fairy princess could not stay a fairy forever in the realm of humans, and so she had to choose: her immortality or her love.
Aiden had often dreamed of a dark-haired fairy princess with eyes the color of warm honey. She haunted his waking moments almost as much as his dreams. But the fairies were lost to the world of men. Magic had faded from the earth, and there was little left to tether the two realms together.
Aiden hummed a sad song as he mounted his horse and rode home. He gave silent thanks to whatever creatures of myth still dwelt in the woods, and he saw once again the fairy princess in his mind, calling to him.
23
One Week Later…
Brodie walked up the steps to the Hunt townhouse in Bath, his pulse quickening as he pushed away hazy memories of dragging Lydia down these very steps at knifepoint. He was certain he would not be received here, but he had to try, and keep on trying until he succeeded.
He rapped the knocker, and the butler answered. Brodie remembered him from the night of the abduction as well. But rather than a look of recognition or surprise, there was only cold indifference.
“May I help you?”
“I need to speak with Mr. Hunt, please.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Well, no. Can I make one?” Was this the point where English toffs left their calling card? He wasn’t that familiar with these formalities. “I don’t have a card, I’m afraid.”
The butler sighed, his tolerance strained. “Your name?”
“Brodie Kincade.”
“You will wait outside.” The butler shut the door before Brodie could even acknowledge him.
Something odd was going on. Surely the butler knew who he was? If he did, he would have expected a more hostile reception, and if he didn’t, then why was he being so rude? It made no sense.
In time the door opened again. “It seems Mr. Hunt is not currently engaged and is willing to see you. This way.”
Brodie straightened and stepped into the hall. The butler closed the door behind him and led him toward the study.
“Personally, I am hesitant to allow a stranger into this house,” the butler said. “One never knows what they might do if given the chance. A truly unscrupulous cad might even try to make off with one of the family’s daughters at knifepoint.”
Brodie looked at the butler when he said that, but the man’s features were like stone. Still, his words said it all. He did know who Brodie was and what he had done. So why the game?
Inside the study, Hunt sat at his desk, but he wasn’t alone. An older man sat in a chair across from him. Hunt was looking over a document, and when Brodie came in, he handed the document over to the older man. “See if this will do. I will tend to my guest while you examine the terms of the sale.”
He got up and came over to Brodie. “Ah, Mr. Kincade, is it?”
Now this was ridiculous. The butler’s ignorance he could understand, but this? He was about to vent his frustrations when Mr. Hunt spoke again.
“I believe I met some of your relations during my recent trip to Scotland. Lovely people. Most accommodating.”
“Mr. Hunt, I do not ken why you are—”
Again, he was interrupted. “You see, I recently met the most wonderful woman, and we decided to get married in Scotland. A hasty thing, to be certain, but we both felt we’d waited long enough to find happiness again. We brought my daughters along with us. My eldest, Lydia, was already friends with my wife’s family, and it would have been wrong not to include her. We stayed at your family’s castle overnight on the way back. Your elder brother was most welcoming.”
Brodie still had no clue what game Hunt was playing, but noting the sidelong glance Lydia’s father gave to the old man reading the document, he decided to play along. “Sorry I missed you while you visited my brother. I was there recently myself.”
“I’ve been informed that you met my eldest daughter once. Is that true?” he asked pointedly.
It then dawned on Brodie what was going on, at least in part.
“I . . . Yes. Briefly, at a ball held here in Bath. I was most taken with her. It is because of her that I have come to speak to you.”
The man behind them in the chair who was reviewing the document Hunt had handed him glanced up at them both, clearly a willing audience for the charade that Hunt had concocted to protect Lydia’s reputation from scandal. It was rather clever.