Page 107 of Steel & Surrender

Ada nodded, her lips pursing. “I’m not judging ye over it. I’m glad the laird’s son defended ye.” Her gaze turned probing. “Although I do wonder why.”

Brìghde’s pulse quickened.

Here it was. She should have known this day would come.

Ada was shrewd, and she met daily with her friends at market to share news. A sparrow couldn’t fart in Duart without one of those women hearing it. So, it was only a matter of time before her mother found out there was something between them.

“I guess he’s grateful for the help I gave him with training. Then he heard what Nicol said and stepped in. That’s all.”

“Still, it was quite a show, by all accounts,” her mother answered. “Look at me, lass … please.”

Steeling herself, even as her palms turned clammy, Brìghde complied.

Ada’s gaze was probing, yet there was a softness in it too. An understanding. “There is something between the two of ye, isn’t there?”

Heat washed over Brìghde. Either her mother was more observant than most, or all of Duart knew—and if that was the case, how could she ever show her face in public again?

“No,” she said, even as her voice caught.

“Ye spent a lot of time together,” Ada answered. “And I did wonder if that was wise. Greig Maclean is a fine example of a man … one any woman would sigh over. Falling for him doesn’t make ye weak.”

Brìghde’s fingers clutched at the bean pod she held. “To do so would be stupid, Ma,” she said. “He’s far above me.”

“Indeed,” Ada replied with a sigh. Picking up the cabbage, she moved across to Brìghde and lowered herself onto the step, next to her.

Their hips and shoulders touched. It was a companionable position, yet Brìghde couldn’t enjoy it.

Her guts were tied up in knots. She felt sick. This was the last conversation she wanted to be having with her mother, and she knew which way it would lead.

“The night of the gathering … ye lay with him, didn’t ye?”

Brìghde jolted as if her mother had just elbowed her in the ribs. “What?” she croaked. “I—”

“When I went to hang up yer new kirtle the next day, I found the skirts covered in smears of soot,” Ada went on. “If I were to guess, I’d say ye two had a tryst in the forge. Am I right?”

Shame burned like a coal in Brìghde’s chest.

Slowly, not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

Her mother let out another sigh, this one weary. “Ah, lass, I understand what it’s like to want someone … what it’s like when desire catches hold of ye.” She paused then before adding dryly. “I had to trap yer da in his own forge to get his attention,” she said dryly. “I even had to—”

“That’s all right, Ma,” Brìghde cut her off. “I don’t need to know the details.”

Ada eyed her, lips curved. “We were young once too, ye know? Do ye think ye and yer brother were delivered to our door by fairies?”

“No,” Brìghde replied, her cheeks warming. Lord, she wished she would speak of something else.

However, Ada wasn’t finished yet. “I’m not judging ye for lying with the man.” Her expression sobered then. “But what if there are consequences?”

“There won’t be any,” Brìghde assured her. “Ye wondered why I disappeared for a day after the attack. I went to Moy and saw Hazel Maclean. She gave me something to bring my menses on.” The words tasted bitter—even now.

Ada’s shoulders lowered. “That was wise. Ye’ve got a practical head on yer shoulders.” Her gaze roamed Brìghde’s face then. “But that doesn’t change the fact that ye have clearly lost yer heart to the man.” She hesitated then. “And he has clearly fallen for ye.”

Brìghde stiffened. “No, he hasn’t.”

“A man doesn’t defend a woman like that without reason,” her mother replied, shaking her head. “And ye know it.”

30: IF WORDS WON’T DO