Highland Brides 03 - On Bended Knee Read Online Free PDF

again. Pain shot through his head and he thought he heard his sister railing at him, though he knew it was the tortured invention of his uisge -battered brain.
    Colin Mac Brodie! Look at ye! Who’s going to take care o’ ye now, ye sodden oaf?
    Och, nobody, he acknowledged, feeling sorry for himself. He might have answered, even, but he knew Meghan wasn’t really there.
    His sister was well and duly wed now, whether he liked it or nay—for better or worse—to that rotten Sassenach husband of hers! Montgomerie had better take good care of his sister, or the cur was going to answer first to his fist, next to his sword.
    Just now, however, his first concern was in thawing his cok. Whatever had possessed him to strip down and dance naked before the fire last night? Stupid bastard, he railed at himself. What had he been trying to do? Prove to everyone that his nuts were not shriveled?
    He opened his eyes, squinting against the brilliant morning rays, and peered back at the foot lying upon his thigh.
    It was a male foot.
    “Gadamn!” he said, kicking it away, and rolling toward the fire, heedless of the remaining coals that sat cooling. “Aaayyyyyyyiiii!” he howled, and leapt up as a hot ember singed him upon the arse.
    A frozen cok and a burnt arse! How much worse could the bloody day begin!
    Broc grunted, opening his eyes and squinting up at him. An amused smile suddenly turned his lips.
    “Whoreson bastard!” Colin railed. “What makes ye think my arse was made to warm your gadamn foot!” He peered back at his singed flesh, cursing beneath his breath.
    Broc didn’t seem the least contrite. In fact, his grin widened. “Not that I enjoy the idea of my foot up your arse, Mac Brodie, but no one told ye to go and strip bare. Och, but we didna need to suffer it, ye bloody bastard!”
    “Aye, Mac Brodie,” grumbled Broc’s young cousin, Cameron, waking, his hand going to his head. “Damned uisge .” He groaned in pain. He glanced about. “Hmmph… where did all the women go?”
    Colin frowned. “Home,” he answered irascibly. “Where are my bloody clothes?”
    Broc chuckled. “Gone with the women,” he revealed, to which Colin replied with a muttered curse.
    There was something inherently wrong with this scene; a bunch of witless men warming their arses by the fire and not a woman to be spied! Christ! The women had been smart enough, at least, to steal away before morning light and were likely all sleeping sweetly with their blushing cheeks lying upon soft pillows while the men were left here to pick rocks from their arses and burn their nuts on hot coals.
    He spied his tunic balled up beneath Cameron’s head and his breacon laying over Broc’s legs and spat another string of oaths. He marched over and yanked the tunic from under him and the breacon from his legs.
    “Well, ye werena using it!” Cameron said in self-defense, and it was less what he said and more the look upon his face that struck Colin wrong. Colin snarled at him and Cameron added sullenly, “I need to take a piss.”
    “Aye, do that!” Colin urged him, eyeing him with rancor. “And take your time while you’re at it!”
    Cameron leapt up from his bed upon the ground, dusted himself off and walked away into the woods to relieve himself. Colin shook his head as he watched the lad go. “If he were not your cousin…”
    “He’s young,” Broc replied. “Give him a few years.”
    Colin cast Broc a glance. “For what?” he snapped, and pulled his tunic over his head.
    Broc shrugged.
    “Anyhow,” Colin advised, straightening the wrinkles from his tunic, “’tis not me who needs to be wary o’ that boy.” He nodded in the direction of the woodlands where Cameron had gone. Merry lifted her head and peered back at him, as though sensing his gaze. “Seems to me has his own ideas about how things should be done. I see that look in his eyes.”
    Broc shrugged again. “He’s at that age, Colin. Full o’ piss and vin aigre , and