His own current situation hit him. To anyone who saw them, it could appear something was occurring betweenthem, and perhaps that’s exactly what had happened with Patience and William. Brodee pulled his hand out of Kinsey’s grasp and took a step back from her. “I’m certain what ye saw was an innocent thank ye or some such thing.”
“Brodee, I dunnae think—”
“Laird,” he corrected her, his words coming out sharp.
She had opened her mouth to say something else, he was certain, though he was having a great deal of trouble concentrating on her, but at his curt tone, she snapped her jaw shut. A long silence stretched, and then she finally said, “Aye, I’m certain ye are correct.”
He got the distinct impression she was only saying what he wished to hear, but given he did not want to extend their standing here alone talking, he did not make mention of it. “Do ye need me to walk ye back to the castle?” he asked politely, hoping she would decline. He no longer wished to swim because, frankly, he felt too unsteady on his feet, so he was heading back to the castle anyway. Though if she declined his offer, he would let her go first. He’d rather they not enter the courtyard together.
But at her nod, he clenched his teeth on his frustration and focused all his effort on simply getting one foot in front of the other. By the time they reached the courtyard, he could feel himself swaying, and he was so distracted by how odd he felt that he did not realize Kinsey was reaching for his hand until she had it in hers, their fingers tangled together. In that moment, all he could think upon was the pleasure of the simple, intimate gesture of hand-holding that Patience had returned to him. It was a gift. She was a gift. Wasn’t she?
His muddled thoughts irked him. Everything about this night irritated him.
He tugged his hand from Kinsey’s hold, and she frowned at him. “I only meant to tell ye if ye need someone to talk to—”
“I’ll talk with my wife,” he assured her, though as he said the words, he felt a small bit of doubt regarding Patience. Damn Kinsey and her claim.
Her lips pressed together, but then she offered him a smile. “Of course. I bid ye good night, Laird.”
He inclined his head in answer and waited until she was in the castle and would have had time to make her way to her room before he entered and headed up the stairs toward his bedchamber. But when he neared the top of the stairs and heard his wife’s and William’s voices, Brodee stilled, listening.
“Vow to me ye will nae say a thing,” Patience said. The desperation in her voice filled Brodee with sudden doubt that maybe he really did not know her. Or William.
Sweat trickled down his back, and his vision blurred. He pressed a hand against the wall as William responded. “I’ll nae, but—”
“I dunnae wish to hear anything else,” she interrupted, her voice trembling. Was it because she’d betrayed him with William? He gave his head a little shake to rid himself of his unfounded jealousy, but a flash of wild anger ripped through him. “I hate him,” Patience said.
“Laird!” Fergus’s voice at Brodee’s back caused him to flinch. Brodee didn’t even turn to acknowledge Fergus. He took the last step between him and the landing where his wife and William stood, and they both looked toward him as one.
All the color drained from Patience’s face, and William’s eyes narrowed upon Brodee. He curled his hand around the hilt of his sword, even as he reached for the wall to steady himself. “Ye’re such a good friend, William,” Brodee said, hearing his own slurred words. “Thank ye for seeingmywife tomybedchamber. Ye’re dismissed.”
When William glanced at Patience and she shook her head at him, Brodee felt black rage sweep through him. Something was most certainly occurring between the two of them. Brodee stepped toward Patience, thinking to slide his hand around her waist, but William moved in front of him. “I believe yer wife is tired, and ye are actually standing in front ofherbedchamber.”
It took all Brodee’s strength not to hit William in the face, and if he’d not been seeing double of the man, he may have done it. He moved to step around William, who was blocking his view of Patience, but William started to move, as well. “I’d nae do that if I were ye,” Brodee said, hearing the lethalness in his tone. A look of shocking indecision settled on William’s face, one that made him seem guilty to Brodee. But he’d learned long ago not to rush headlong into decisions, so he’d decide what to do about William in the morning.
Patience suddenly stepped out from behind William. Her spine was straight, and her chin lifted. Christ, he felt the need to step toward her, gather her in his arms, even now. “I wish to sleep in my bedchamber,” she said, her voice clear and strong. “Alone.”
He didn’t want to be without her. The realization hit him hard. He started to reach for her, and she flinched away. “Will ye force me to yer chambers?” she demanded.
“Is there another ye prefer in there?” he growled, swiveling his gaze to William.
He heard Patience’s gasp of outrage. Her door opened and slammed, but he refused to look away from William. He was looking for a sign of guilt, betrayal, deceit.
William scowled at Brodee. “What the devil is wrong with ye?”
Brodee opened his mouth to answer, but the floor tilted under him and everything went black.
Sunlight streamed into his room, waking him. The first thing he realized was he was desperately thirsty, his head pounded, and his mouth felt as if someone had filled it with sand. He’d seen men drink too much wine, heard them complain of the effects, and he was disgusted with himself for having apparently done such a thing. Though, as he lay there and recounted the night, three goblets of wine should not have done such things to him. But it had.
He sat up, grasping his head at a wave of pain in his skull. His brain felt five times too large for his head. It seemed it was trying to push its way out of his skull.
Squeezing his head and his eyes, he stumbled to his washbasin, rinsed his hands and face, drank a cup of mead, and then returned to the edge of his bed. He looked beside him, wondering for a brief moment why Patience was not there, and then the events of the night came back to him in painful, nauseating flashes.
I saw Patience kiss William.Kinsey’s words rang in Brodee’s head. He felt the same disbelief and rage he’d experienced last night, except now he was better able to keep his temper. Was what he saw as it seemed? He couldn’t honestly say. What he did know for certain was that Patience had not wanted to sleep in his bedchamber with him, and William, a man he thought he could trust above anyone, had acted as if he would try to stop Brodee if he thought to make Patience go to his bedchamber.
Brodee wouldn’t do that. Of course he would not, but that was not the point. The point was that William had been acting as if Patience needed protection from Brodee. He could not think of a reason William would do that, unless the man thought that Brodee had discovered there was something occurring between William and Patience.
Christ.The pounding in his skull was relentless. There had to be another reason. Another explanation. But he could not come up with one, and all he could see in his head was his wife and his friend locked in passion. He could demand the truth, but he held little hope he’d get it.
One thing he’d learned in his life was that guilt affected everyone. A guilty person would reveal their duplicity in little ways they did not even recognize. Brodee would wait and watch. He would keep his distance from them both. If nothing had occurred between Patience and William, Patience would surely want him back in her bed to reclaim the passion they’d shared two nights earlier. Mayhap she’d merely been tired last night. Hell, mayhap she’d been fearful because he’d imbibed in too much wine. Perhaps one of her late husbands had done such a thing. He had the sudden urge to go to her and ask, but pride kept him from doing so. She needed to come to him, and if she didn’t, if neither she nor William approached him… He didn’t want to dwell on what that meant. Nor did he want to linger on the acute hollowness in his gut at the thought that Patience could have been unfaithful. He was not meant to care so much about her that it made his chest ache so painfully.
