Highlander's Beloved 02 - A Highlander's Passion by Vonnie Davis Page B

private?”
    “Nay. Stay.” He leaned against the edge of the desk and crossed his arms and stocking feet. Slowly he told his mum about the bairn, halting at times when the pain in his heart tore apart his words.
    She didna say a thing, although a phenomenon Bryce had seen only a couple times in his life occurred. A beet red blush began at her collarbone and slowly crept upward until it reached her graying red hair. When he finally finished the telling of the whole wretched mess, he wiped cheeks he didna realize had moistened. His bear moaned with grief as if he were dying of it.
    Quiet filled the office for well over a minute, while his mum blinked and repeatedly ran her hands down the front of her red floral skirt, her fingers making pleats with each pass. “Someone pour me a stiff drink, and none of your piddling two fingers, either. I want a whole glassful.”
    Ronan unlocked the cabinet and poured his mum a generous amount of Scotch.
    She snatched the glass from his grasp and drank as if she’d just crossed the Sahara. When the container was empty, she ran the back of her hand across her lips. “Pour me another.”
    Ronan glanced at Bryce, who nodded. Mum rarely tied one on. Much more whisky and she’d pass out. Unease did prickle up his spine, though. How had his mum downed a whole tumbler of their finest Scotch without so much as a cough? Hell, she hadna even gasped, nor had her eyes watered.
    No sooner had his brother filled her glass again than she’d guzzled it like one would lemonade on a hot summer’s day. She inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. “Now that I’m suitably fortified, Ronan, go get me my gardening boots and a shovel.”
    Ronan stopped dead in his tracks. “Why the shovel and boots?”
    “I’m going to that bastard’s grave tonight and digging him up. Then I’m going to beat his remains to dust with me shovel and spit on his fukin’ face for killing me grandchild.” She glared at her two sons and reared back to her full five-foot-two height. “And I just
dare
either of ye to try to stop me. There’s nothing worse than one pissed-off Irishwoman. I’ve lived in Scotland for nearly thirty-two years, but the blood flowing through me veins is Irish. That evil son of a bitch will pay fer killing our wee sweet bairn before it had a chance to draw its first breath or…or have his grandma kiss his beloved sweet head.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “Now get me my damn boots and a shovel!”
    Mum was a gentle, loving soul who ran the lodge with one eye on the clock. Mealtimes were never late. Her strict standards were always adhered to, and everyone kent not to cross her. Ronan looked at Bryce and lifted his hands in a helpless gesture before aiming wide eyes at her. “Mum, ya canna.”
    Her finger shook under his ear. She blinked, made a slight hand adjustment, and then beat his nose with her finger. “Dinna be telling yer mum what she can and canna do. He has to pay. I dinna care what he went through in the war. How he saw his buddies blown up.” The tears flowed faster, and she wiped her cheeks. “That poor, poor Kenzie. What she’s endured in silwence…sibence…” Mum hiccuped once and her eyes rolled back into her head as she collapsed in Bryce’s arms.

Chapter 5
    “I just wanted ye to know I got the job working fer the American and moved into my quarters at Iverson Hall.” Kenzie cradled the cell phone between her shoulder and ear while she unpacked her suitcase. “I didna want ye to go by me old apartment and find it empty.”
    Her aunt Una grunted. “She’ll be good fer ye, child.” Kenzie smiled at her aunt’s habitual use of this term of affection. “I read it in me tea leaves this morning. I also read a man from yer past has reentered yer life.”
    “Bryce. He helped me move.” She ran her hand across the back of her neck, massaging muscles cramped with tension. Erasing the agonized expression on his face from her mind had been impossible. She couldna forget