not. He was as Rafe said, impenetrable and wounded. He would never let her in. She was not the sort of woman to scream or cry and make demands. Brodie held an affection for her, she knew, but it was not love. If she had time, she felt she could get him to open up to her, maybe even open his heart, but time was not something they had.
“I dinna want to let you go, lass. I’ll hold on to you for as long as I can before I must let you go.” His eyes held such a wounded honesty that she knew he spoke the truth.
“Kiss me,” she said.
He opened his eyes to look down at her, and she was undone by the tenderness she saw in his face. He cupped her face with one hand, while the other explored the hollow of her back as his lips met hers. It was a whisper of a touch at first, as though he was holding back, making the need inside her build. He nibbled at her bottom lip as he parted her mouth, his tongue flicking slowly against hers. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken promises and tender surrender.
Lydia pretended that he loved her, that he was using his lips to say what he could not with words. She told him back, kiss for kiss, I love you.
Brodie moaned, his kiss becoming hungrier. He gripped her bottom, pulling her tight to him. Would she always have this wild desire for him? Would it haunt her until the day she died?
“Lydia, let me take you to bed,” he said huskily against her mouth.
The owl above them burst into a series of hoots, and someone called out from the library doorway, “Ach, Brodie, do you ken how much trouble you are in?”
Brodie’s mouth left hers reluctantly. “Aiden. You’re back sooner than I expected.”
Lydia peered over Brodie’s shoulder to see the youngest of the Kincade brothers. Like Brodie, he had dark hair and fathomless gray eyes. He was perhaps an inch taller and thinner too, well built but not quite the mountain of muscle his brother was. Around his shoulders a pine marten rested, its claws digging into the young man’s coat as it held on. Aiden carefully unwound the long creature and set it on the floor. The creature glanced between the two men before scurrying away down the corridor.
“So, this is the lass who sent Brock and Ashton running off to Edinburgh?” Aiden’s teasing smile set Lydia at ease. He was as Brodie had said, gentle, yet there was nothing weak about him. Rather, he seemed to radiate a quiet strength.
“Hello, I’m Lydia Hunt.” She stepped around Brodie, but he kept a possessive arm around her waist.
“It’s a pleasure, lass.” Aiden smiled, and his humor shone through when he spoke next to his brother. “I willna steal her from you, brother, no matter how she might fall for me.” Aiden batted his lashes in a silly way at Lydia.
“Hush, puppy,” Brodie snapped, but he finished with a chuckle.
Aiden winked at Lydia again. “I hope you don’t mind a few wee beasties about the castle,” Aiden said.
“Not at all. Brodie told me all about your furry companions. I think it’s quite charming. We were just admiring the little owl up there a moment ago.”
Aiden gave his brother a surprised look. “I think you ought to marry this lass, brother.”
Brodie pointedly ignored Aiden’s comment. “We should go to dinner. You must be famished.”
They left the library and met Rafe and their young charge coming down the stairs. Isla sat astride the banister, and Rafe was aiding her balance as she slid down.
“Good Lord, we’ve been spotted, kitten. Run!” Rafe scooped her up, and they sprinted back up the stairs, where Rafe stopped and twirled around, making the child squeal with delight.
“Who is the child?” Aiden asked.
“She’s an orphan we rescued in Edinburgh,” said Brodie.
Aiden’s eyes fixed on the child as Rafe carried the giggling girl back down the stairs. “An orphan?”
“Kitten, this is Aiden, Brodie’s younger brother. Aiden, this is the kitten.”
“I thought I was the kitten,” Lydia teased Rafe.
“That you are. All sweet women are kittens. I shan’t tell you what I call women who aren’t so sweet.”
Brodie snorted at that.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Aiden bowed formally to Isla, who smiled shyly and half hid behind Rafe’s legs.
“I’m Isla. Isla MacKenzie.”
“She’s my little Isla Mac.” Rafe looked like a proud father. The little girl had already stolen his