Twelve
Something shifted between Patience and Brodee in the following week, or possibly they were beginning to take form as two people bound together for life. She caught glimpses of what they could maybe be if they could trust each other. Hope glimmered like sunshine slanting through a crack to fill a dark hole. Patience wanted that warm light. She hoped maybe Brodee did too. She could not forget their conversation after he’d rescued her when he’d admitted a part of him had died. Nor could she forget that he’d not responded to her saying she was listening to his heart to see if the part of him that had died could be revived. Yet she took hope that he’d not simply said no.
It could well be foolish hope, given she’d seen him very little since that night. Well, technically, she’d seen him every day since then, but their time together was brief. She saw him in the morning after she broke her fast and he came in from training his men. They would meet in the courtyard, and he’d instruct her on how to defend herself. William was there every day, and she half wondered if Brodee had not asked William to be present so they would not be alone again, and so she’d not try to talk to him anymore about the things he’d revealed. It was strange. She’d initially wanted to push him away, but now she didn’t think she wanted that at all. He seemed determined, however, to keep a barrier between them.
She saw him at night in the great hall for supper, as well, but there would be no talking of private matters there. They sat at the dais with William, Father Murdock, Fergus—who was her personal guard while Cul recovered from his injuries—and Kinsey, who had been so touchingly relieved that Patience had survived her fall. She did not see Brodee after supper, though. He’d not come to her bedchamber or even hinted that he wished to consummate their marriage once since the night of her fall.
So at night, she was left with only her thoughts for company. She thought upon stabbing Loskie some, but she tried not to allow herself to linger upon it. It had been done in self-defense, yet she did not think she’d ever forget it, and those instances when she did recall it, it made her realize even more so than his admission had the heavy burden Brodee carried considering what his duties had called for him to do as the king’s right hand. Though she knew he had done all in his power to spare the lives of the men whose castles the king had him take back, she also knew the pain it cost him for those who would not allow him to spare them.
When she was not in bed thinking upon that, she considered how it seemed almost a dream the way her life had changed so drastically since Brodee had arrived at Crag Donnon. She had a husband who did not scare her, though the idea of the joining still left her frozen, not because she was frightened he’d purposely hurt her or be callous with her but because she feared she would disappoint him. She could not, though she was content, entirely silence the self-doubt that Silas had instilled in her, nor could she forget the pain and lack of passion she’d found in joining with her previous husbands. But when she thought about what Brodee had revealed, she knew him to be good. And when she recalled how gentle Brodee’s daily touches were, or how his kisses made her feel so deliciously wonderful, she almost believed it would be different with him.Shewould be different with him.
She was determined today to get some time alone with him so they could learn each other a bit. First she went to get herbs from Mari for the wound on Cul’s chest. It turned out Mari was not only head of the kitchens but she was the castle healer, as well. After Patience tended to Cul, she made her way to the west bank of the castle, where she had discovered yesterday, by happenstance, that William trained alone every morning for a bit before he joined her and Brodee in the courtyard.
She wanted to ask William not to come to the courtyard this morning, so she and Brodee could be alone. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts on what she even wanted to say to Brodee that she did not see Kinsey until the woman seemed to appear from nowhere and was before her.
Patience let out a yelp of surprise and then laughed. “Ye scairt me.”
“I’m sorry,” Kinsey said. “I called to ye, but ye did nae seem to hear me.”
Patience frowned, detecting a slight censure in Kinsey’s tone, one that reminded her of the way Silas used to speak to her.
“Are ye vexed with me?” Patience asked, amazed that she had asked such a blunt question. A week ago she would have never been so brave, but she was changing.
“Of course nae. Just fashed for ye,” Kinsey replied and slipped her arm through Patience’s. “I wager ye were thinking upon yer husband,” she said, a hint of disapproval—or was that mockery?—in her voice.
It occurred to Patience suddenly that though Kinsey had told her she thought her brother evil, she may have still loved him as a sister would a brother, and it may be hurting her that Patience seemed to now be setting him, and the bad memories he’d left her with, aside. “I was,” she said slowly. “I’m sorry if that hurts ye because of Silas.”
“Why would that hurt me?” Kinsey asked. “I wish ye to forget my brother just as much as ye desire to.”
“Oh,” Patience said, unsure if she truly believed her. “Ye dunnae have to say that just so our friendship will nae feel strained.”
“I’m nae,” Kinsey replied. “I vow it to ye.” Her words sounded completely genuine now, so Patience nodded. Kinsey gave her a squeeze. “I’ve just come from speaking with one of the Blackswell warriors, and I’ve heard something disturbing about yer husband.”
Patience sighed. For the last four days, Kinsey had relayed things she considered disturbing about Brodee. Patience knew she meant well, but it was becoming irritating. She’d listened to her and even asked around about the things Kinsey had passed along to her. According to Kinsey, Brodee had hit a child during training. In fact, he had—accidentally—when he’d swung around and a boy had walked up to him to offer him some mead. Then Kinsey had offered that Brodee had yelled at one of the kitchen lasses. When Patience had asked the women in the kitchens, they’d said that Brodee had yelled at one of the kitchen lasses because she had been walking with a large trencher and she could not see the path in front of her when there was a limb that could trip her. So he’d yelled to aid her since he was across the way from her in the great hall.
Kinsey had also grumbled that Brodee trained all the men until they were nearly about to drop. He did. It was true. Patience had watched from afar, but anything he asked of his men, he did, as well, and she’d heard the men, both Blackswells and Kincaides alike, talking in the great hall of their training with awe and admiration in their voices for Brodee. He inspired them to want to be their best, which was a good thing. Not only did they have to defend this castle, but she’d heard William and Brodee talking at supper, and that the time was fast approaching that Brodee would have to leave to continue his work as the king’s right hand. If she’d overheard correctly, he was to join forces with her father to seize Laird Gordon’s castle since the man supported the Steward.
Patience still had a hard time believing her father had changed allegiances from the king’s nephew to the king, but knowing her father, he’d undoubtedly done it because it served his interests. For once in her life, she was glad her father was so greedy for power and wealth, because if he’d not been, she’d not now be wed to Brodee. Her father had used her, given her in marriage to a man whom he thought was his enemy’s ruthless right hand. He’d done it without a care for her, only himself. He’d done it so the king would accept it as his pledge of faith. He’d made it seem she was precious to him, and he was entrusting her care to Brodee.
Such lies! Yet she found her anger at her father had subsided. Not because he was deserving of forgiveness, but, in the end, her father had done her a good turn by wedding her to Brodee, and that was something that would likely vex her father to no end to discover, which made her grin.
“Do ye nae wish to hear what I learned?” Kinsey’s irritated tone jerked Patience out of her musings.
Between Kinsey’s needlessly cross attitude and her refusal to see that Brodee was a good man, Patience’s temper flared. She’d had enough, even if Kinsey did have well-meaning intentions, something Patience suddenly began to question. Wouldn’t a friend trying to keep another safe cease the effort when they realized there was no danger? She bit her lip. Truthfully, she wasn’t certain, as she’d never had a close friend. If it had been Kinsey who had been wed to a man Patience feared was horrid, how much proof of his honorable nature would she need before she quit trying to protect her friend? Again, she was not entirely sure, but her gut told her that by now, in light of all the good Brodee had done, if she were Kinsey, Patience would have allowed for the possibility that she might be wrong about Brodee, so that, she decided, was what she would say. “I think ye must allow for the possibility that Brodee is a good man,” she said, deciding mincing words was useless.
“Well, I would have—honestly, I would have—but I heard just today that Brodee is a murderer,” Kinsey stated, sounding more triumphant than regretful about her announcement.
Patience inhaled a long breath for, well,patience. She’d found in the last day that what she normally possessed in abundance seemed to have all but disappeared. “I dunnae believe defending yerself—”
“Nay,” Kinsey interrupted. “He has killed two women, and neither had anything to do with his duty.”
“Who told ye this?” Patience demanded.
“I overheard some of his men speaking about it,” she replied. “One said it was rumored he killed his leman, and the other mentioned a rumor that he’d killed a woman he was betrothed to but whom he did nae wish to wed.” Kinsey squeezed Patience’s arm. “Ye could be the next woman he kills!”
“That’s enough!” Patience said. She could not imagine the protective man she’d come to know in the last week and a half killing any woman, let alone one he was joining with and whom he was to wed. But it did bother her that she knew nothing about this rumor—or him. It was precisely why she wanted to be alone with him. She pulled her arm from Kinsey’s grasp. It was time to put an end to this. “If Brodee were going to kill me, he could have already done so,” she said not curbing her blunt tone. Kinsey opened her mouth to speak, but Patience held up her hand to silence her. “Ye are nae going to convince me he’s a killer of women, so dunnae bother with any more arguments.”
Kinsey’s mouth set in a line of distinct annoyance.
