She gave Fergus a stern look. “Nay. ’Twas an accident.”
“Aye,” Kinsey agreed when Patience gave her a pleading look for aid in convincing Fergus.
He scowled. “But they need to be more careful.”
“Then ye can mention to them to take greater care, but please dunnae tell the laird,” Patience implored.
Fergus rubbed at his neck, then sighed. “I suppose there is nae any harm in that.”
“Nae any,” Patience assured him. “Right, Kinsey?”
“Nae any,” Kinsey agreed.
Patience linked arms with Kinsey and fairly dragged the woman toward the great hall, calling behind them for Fergus to follow.
From the moment Patience appeared in the doorway of the great hall, it was as if everyone else disappeared. The din of the noise around Brodee died, and his vision tunneled to her. She was a vision in her pale-green gown. Even with all her skin covered, she the most tempting creature he’d ever seen. Despite her dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skin, she exuded a light and warmth to rival the sun. He wanted to go to her, to bury his face in her neck, smell her lavender-scented hair, run his fingers across her silken skin, and hear her husky laughter.
Instead, he gulped down a glass of wine, and then as William, who was sitting immediately to the laird’s right, raised his wine goblet to drink it, Brodee relieved his friend of it and drank those contents, too.
“What the devil?” William growled. “Ye dunnae even normally drink wine. What’s vexing ye?” He leaned closer to Brodee and arched his eyebrows in expectation.
“Put yer eyebrows down, Will,” Brodee managed in a tone that sounded calm, though he felt anything but. Patience did that to him. Her mere presence set the world that he’d worked so hard to make orderly into disarray. As she walked slowly toward the dais with Kinsey by her side, one thought came to mind—he wished supper was over. He wanted to shove his trencher aside, grab Patience, and carry her upstairs to their bedchamber so he could repeat what they’d done last night. Multiple times. It was, in fact, the only thing he’d thought of all day.
He was so filled with yearning that he half-feared he would be too passionate, too wild, too uninhibited when next they joined, and he’d scare her with the feelings he was trying to keep inside. He had to maintain control not just now but later tonight, as well. Yes, she’d matched his passion last night, but he had still restrained himself a bit so as not to scare her. It was as if she had caused a violent storm inside him, and if he released it and let it consume him, it might just frighten her away.
When Patience reached the dais and curtsied to him, his eyes went, of their own volition, to her body. He grew instantly hard, his blood heating, and desire pounding painfully within him. Incensed that he could not control his reaction to her, he jerked his gaze away from her and to Kinsey, who stood awkwardly by Patience. Brodee frowned, realizing the woman thought to sit at the dais with them. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to take a seat with rest of the clan, but Father Murdock offered his chair, and then somehow, Kinsey ended up in William’s seat and William took Father Murdock’s, who had given an excuse that he was ready to retire.
Brodee could not even say how the seat switching came to be. It took all his concentration not to stare at Patience. Instead, he looked straight down at his trencher of food, as if it was the most interesting bit of meat and bread he’d ever eaten. As conversation started to flow around him, Patience talking to William, Fergus, and Cul, who was finally well enough to join them, Brodee motioned to the kitchen lass Ada to refill his wine goblet. Once she did, he reached for it, unable to help himself from stealing a sidelong glance at Patience when she burst into laughter at something William had said. Their heads were close together, and jealousy ripped through Brodee. His attention was quickly diverted, however, when his hand touched another’s on his wine goblet. He looked to the goblet to find Kinsey’s hand upon it. She blinked, appearing surprised as well. “I’m sorry, Laird. I thought that was my goblet.”
She lifted it toward him, even as she grabbed the one to her right. “Here ye go. Ye seem as if ye need this. Ye looked vexed.”
“Thank ye,” he said. He was being a damnable fool to be jealous of his wife and his closest friend, yet hewasjealous. God’s teeth, he needed something else to think about, anything besides the growing irritation at how interesting his wife seemed to find William.
“If ye would indulge me, Laird,” Kinsey said, leaning toward him, “I have some suggestions for the tournament that I think would help unite our clans.”
“Speak freely,” he said, only too glad to have the distraction. As Kinsey told him of her ideas, he realized she actually had some good ones. Maybe he truly had judged her too quickly and harshly. His gut felt nothing odd in regard to her at this moment.
“I could help Patience use my ideas for the tournament,” Kinsey offered, her voice low. She darted a look at Patience, who was still talking to William, much to Brodee’s annoyance. Or at least he thought Kinsey had looked to Patience. Maybe she’d looked to William?
His brow furrowed. His thoughts felt muddled. It had to be the wine. He didn’t normally drink wine, only mead. He’d not really considered that the informal tournament might need any planning, but apparently the women had.
“I think it will overwhelm her,” Kinsey said, touching her hand to his forearm. He frowned at the contact, but when he went to brush her fingers away, his movements were sluggish. Devil take it, he should not have drunk three glasses of wine. Still, he was surprised how much it was affecting him and how quickly. He was a big man, and even though he normally drank mead, he had consumed wine before and had never been so affected.
“Brodee?”
He looked to Kinsey, who he saw two of. “Aye, ye can help her,” he said, wincing because his words sounded slurred. He shoved away from the table. He needed a cold swim. He didn’t want the clanspeople or Patience to see him like this.
Patience watched in frustration as Brodee left the dais without a word to anyone. He stalked to the door of the great hall and took his leave. Then Kinsey quickly excused herself, claiming a sudden headache. Patience wanted to leave, too. She wanted to go to her bedchamber and bury herself under the covers and not come out. Hurt and anger pulsed through her as her husband had only looked at and spoken to Kinsey during the entire meal.
“Patience,” William said beside her. His tone of sympathy was plain.
Blast, if he’d noticed Brodee’s attention to Kinsey, as well, Patience was not simply being jealous. William must have been attempting to divert her attention at supper so she would not notice what Brodee was doing. Her gut clenched. Or worse, William had seen what was occurring and diverted her out of pity.
“I dunnae want ye to feel sorry for me,” she said in a low voice. Her cheeks burned with her shame. She suddenly felt just as she had whenever Silas or Ivan had humiliated her. “I’m tired,” she said, trying to rise, but William grabbed her wrist.
“’Tis nae what ye are thinking,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Brodee would nae ever betray ye.”
She would not have thought it last night. Or the day before. Or even this morning. Why, though? She did not truly know him, and that was still the problem. She’d given him her trust because he’d given her kindness and passion and a few hints into his past. Was she a fool?
