She struggled mightily then, but it was no use. Brodee’s fingers had become like iron, and his jaw had tensed. At his right eye, a tic began, and his pulse hammered visibly at his neck. Was he excited by her fear as Silas and Ivan had always been? She didn’t know. She didn’t knowhim. All she knew of men who were supposed to protect her were Silas, Ivan, and her father, and not a one of them had guarded her.
“She will stand with me,” Brodee said. “As I’m the one to do what must be done.”
Dear God above. How will he kill me? Fire? Water?
Brodee scowled at her. “If I were going to kill ye, it would nae be fire or water. That is a coward’s way.”
“Yer words do bring me such relief,” she said, her voice purposely flat.
“Laird Blackswell,” Kinsey said, walking toward them. “I’ll stand with ye in judgment of her.”
Was Kinsey trying to aid her or crucify her? Patience looked to her former sister-in-law, and the woman gave her an encouraging smile. Kinsey had never been friendly, but Patience had wondered if Silas had ordered his sister to be cold to her. Kinsey had, to be fair, appointed Jane to aid Patience after Silas’s death.
“Why? Do ye have something to say in her defense?” her betrothed demanded, his tone like a wintery wind. He had a look on his face that Patience could not quite decipher. Was it anger? Expectation?
“I—” She glanced toward Patience. “I am the last true Kincaide here. I thought it would be good if we both sat in judgment, a Kincaide and a Blackswell, our clans united.”
Still, Patience had no notion if Kinsey was trying to aid her or not.
“Are nae all Kincaides true Kincaides?” Brodee asked, his eyebrows arched.
Irritation fluttered across Kinsey’s face, but it disappeared as fast as it had appeared. “Well, aye, but—”
“Then ye dunnae need to represent yer clan. Ye can stand with everyone else and listen.”
Kinsey’s lips pressed into a thin line. “As ye wish, Laird Blackswell.”
Patience stole a glance at Brodee, surprised to find him looking at her instead of Kinsey. No one ever paid Patience notice, but Kinsey had the respect of everyone in the Kincaide clan. His observant eyes softened as if he had somehow read her thoughts. He squeezed her wrist once, and said, “Dunnae move, Patience,” and then he released her. She wanted to flee. God help her, she did. But she knew it was hopeless.
Her betrothed took out his sword, drawing it up, and then banged the blade down upon the table beside him. The hit resounded like a clap of thunder, and the chatter instantly ceased. “Ye will all be quiet, or ye will leave.”
Men nodded immediately, and Brodee’s hand came to the small of her back, where he pressed slightly. “We will stand before the dais to hear what this Father Bisby has to say.”
“Why?” she asked, trying to dig in her heels so as not to be moved from the door, which seemed her only path to freedom, whether hopeless or not.
“Because at the dais,” he said, giving her a gentle push that forced her to move, “men are nae at my back.”
“Ye dunnae like men at yer back?” she asked as his hand caught hers, and he fairly tugged her to the dais.
When he did not answer her, she assumed he would not, but at the dais, when it was only the two of them with the nearest man several feet away, Brodee pitched his voice low. “I dunnae like my enemies at my back.”
She sucked in a breath of hope. “I vow I’m naeban-druidh,” she whispered, praying he would believe her.
“Just a touch cracked, aye?” He did not smile, but his eyes did crinkle with what appeared to be amusement.
She bit her lip, uncertain it was wise in this moment to continue the charade, but fear of the unknown, fear that this man would be cruel to her, had her nodding. “Just a touch mad, I believe. ’Tis nae a crime.”
His lips did that odd pulling thing again, as if he might smile. “Nay, Patience. ’Tis nae a crime.”
The door to the great hall opened with a bang, and Father Bisby entered, his robes billowing at his ankles. “I’m here to punish theban-druidh!”
