“He ordered me to,” a voice called, and then a big, burly man stepped into the light.
She waved him toward her, momentarily astounded by her sudden bravery. The man’s heavy footfalls came toward her, but then he stopped a respectable distance away. He was a giant of a man, easily as tall as Brodee and twice as wide, and a patch was fastened over his left eye. “What’s yer name?”
“Fergus Blackswell,” he said, regarding her warily.
So hewasa Blackswell warrior. She offered him a proper curtsy, and when she righted herself, he was gaping at her. “What is it?” she asked.
“I’ve nae ever had a lady curtsy for me except Lady Katreine. Gentle creatures are usually scairt of me,” he said, waving at the patch on his face.
“I dunnae ken why they’d be scairt of a patch.”
“Dunnae it make me look menacing?” the big bear of a man asked, wiggling his bushy eyebrows.
She laughed at that. “Hardly. What happened to ye?”
“Some men thought to torture me because they wanted information I did nae feel inclined to give, since it would mean the death of many innocents who were in hiding.” He shrugged. “They cut out my eye in an effort to get me to talk.”
She winced, and her hand fluttered to her own left eye. “That must have hurt horridly.”
“It did sting a bit. Luckily, Brodee saved my other boll—Beg pardon, my lady. It just occurred to me that this is nae a polite conversation.”
She waved a dismissive hand at him. “Dunnae fash yerself. Was Brodee with ye when they were torturing ye?”
“Nae. But he stumbled upon us and rescued me. He’s had my loyalty ever since.”
She tucked the information away, and asked, because he’d mentioned the name, “Who is Lady Katreine?”
Surely, if Brodee had been wed before, she would know or have heard. What a foolish notion. Of course he could have been wed; she did not know him.
“She’s Laird Blackswell’s wife. She’s verra pretty, but so are ye.”
Her eyes felt as if they might explode out of her head. “How many wives does Brodee have?” she asked, unable to keep the shrillness from her tone.
“Dunnae fash yerself, lass,” came Brodee’s deep, rumbling reply from behind her. The effect of that smooth voice was instantaneous. A current raced through her. “I assure ye,” he continued, “ye are my only wife.”
She turned toward Brodee, her stomach tightening in awareness of his presence, but even before she was fully facing him, Fergus said, “He speaks the truth. Brodee has nae ever been wed, though—”
“That will be enough, Fergus,” Brodee interrupted. Patience would have given anything to know what Fergus had been about to say.
The warrior nodded. “Aye, laird. Shall I go to the courtyard?”
“Aye,” Brodee said, not taking his gaze off Patience to answer Fergus. His gaze did not even so much as flicker from her when Fergus passed by them.
He peered at her intently, and the very air around her seemed electrified, like when lightning lit the sky. And her heart! Heaven above, it pounded as loud as thunder and pushed blood through her veins so that it roared in her ears. The man affected her so oddly. She was not scared in this moment; she was utterly and completely intrigued.
“Ye sent yer guard away.” He did not sound happy.
“I-I’m sorry,” she said, irritated that she had so quickly reverted to a groveling woman tingling with fear.
“Ye dunnae need to be sorry. I simply want to ken why.”
Her brow furrowed. She was not used to a husband who was not immediately angry at her and asked herwhyshe did something. “I saw Fergus shadowing us, and I wished to learn who he was and why he was trailing us.”
Brodee nodded, crossed his arms, and leaned against the stone wall. He looked so at ease that he made her relaxed, as well. “That makes sense, lass, and I’m pleased ye showed such awareness.”
“Ye are?” She felt like grinning, but she managed to keep it controlled.
“Aye. The more alert ye are, the more likely ye are to stay out of danger. However, ye did nae ken for certain that whoever was following ye was nae dangerous, so ye should have told Cul. He was made yer guard to watch ye. I’ve already spoken to him about leaving ye unprotected—”
