Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(27)

“I said—”

“I heard what ye said.” Niul raised his voice. “And I see how yer captains are looking at their suppers and letting ye seep yerself in yer mourning. I’m no’ afraid of ye, boy… She is dead. Long cold in her grave, and it’s far past time someone found the balls to tell ye to notice how long it’s been.”

“Bastard!”

Symon roared as he came up and out of his chair. Niul met him, the pair of them rolling over the long head table as they grappled.

“Ye aren’t fit…to speak her name…” Symon snarled.

Niul staggered back under a hard hit, but raised his leg and drove his knee into Symon’s belly when the Grant laird tried to follow his first blow with a second one. “Ye are nae dead, man.” Niul smashed his elbow into the side of Symon’s jaw, sending him staggering away. “Stop expecting her to rise up and give ye children.”

Symon wasn’t ready to listen yet. He charged at Niul, and they collided like bears. There was grunting and curses, but everyone stayed away. Niul finally broke free and threw his hands wide.

“Look at yer men, Laird Grant!”

Symon stiffened, his rage cracking as he did indeed cast a look around him.

“They are no’ stopping me because they recognize the truth of me words.” Niul softened his tone. “Do ye think it brings me pleasure to say them? I nearly watched me brother die abovestairs when he lost his leg and would nae be seen. Bastard? If I truly were less of a man, I’d be after yer cousin in the hope that our children will inherit after ye leave the Grants without an heir.” He spat blood on the floor and wiped his mouth across his sleeve. “Instead, I’m trying to kick yer arse and drag ye kicking and screaming back into the light of life.”

Symon slowly grinned. “Well, ye are no’ the smartest man, are ye?”

Niul opened his arms wide and performed a courtesy, lowering himself. “The lot of a bastard—to please as often as I might while still being expected to fail at it due to me lack of breeding.”

Symon nodded and slowly walked toward him. He offered his hand, and Niul grasped the Grant’s wrist.

“We all have our lots,” Symon said as he finished shaking Niul’s hand. “I thank ye for reminding me of mine.”

*

Symon turned to see Brenda walking down the passageway with a tray in her hands.

“Ye’re going to tend him?” he asked, surprise thick in his tone.

Brenda only smiled at him. “Yes.”

“Why?” Symon asked in a quiet tone.

Brenda moved up next to him and cast a look at the portrait he’d been staring at. His wife looked back at them, the paint making her appear almost lifelike.

“Because I could no’ give ye the thrashing ye needed to keep ye from following Tara into the grave.”

Symon tore his gaze from the painting and looked at Brenda. She watched the pain still flickering in his eyes.

“This is for ye.” She held out a razor. “I sent a maid up to yer chamber with hot water and soap.”

Symon drew in a stiff breath and fought the urge to look back at the portrait. He took the razor and offered Brenda a stiff nod. He started to walk away, looking as though his feet were heavy, but he stopped and turned back toward Brenda.

“Ye are right,” he said firmly. “I will shave this mourning beard off.”

Brenda inclined her head.

“And I am no’ the only one who needs to start living again, Brenda.”

It was her turn to stiffen. Symon offered her no mercy as he nodded. “For all that I have no’ been able to move past that moment when Fate decided to take the woman I loved from me, I would no’ have learned what it is to love without her. It changes a soul, enriches the world around ye in a way, and no one can understand until they allow themselves to love another.”

He pointed at her. “Ye need to move past yer history too. Let someone touch ye, and hopefully teach ye the pleasure of being a woman.”

“Symon,” she hissed in a low tone.

“I am correct.” He cut her off by holding up the razor between them. “Just as ye are right about me needing a thrashing. Ye’ve never chosen a lover. It can be more than duty, Brenda, and it falls to me to say so bluntly since yer parents are gone, and ye and I are the only kin we both have left. Do nae squander the years ye have on the ones who treated ye cruelly. We are both here and we must begin living, no’ simply going through the motions while we are chained to the dark elements of our pasts.”

Brenda felt his words cut through something inside her. To be certain, she’d never thought to discuss such personal things with a man, yet he was correct. They had only each other, and the castle was a sad place because of it. Life was merely an echo in the stone hallways.

“I will…will…think upon the matter…” Her composure failed her as her tongue felt graceless inside her mouth.

“As will I,” Symon said. “We must both begin living again.”

Symon pointed in the direction of their guest’s chamber. Brenda found her belly knotting as she began to move toward Niul. Did she desire him? Would she even recognize passion if it gripped her? Her thoughts were full of questions, and she felt an odd heat teasing her cheeks.

Blushing?