She believed him. She didn’t know why. It was truly madness. Regardless, she nodded and murmured, “God has finally blessed me with the perfect husband.” Her mouth parted at her own surprise of the flippant words she’d spoken. It was like her lips had taken on a mind of their own and had decided they no longer needed to check with her before talking.
“Are ye mad?” Brodee whispered.
Was he referring to her daring to speak so glibly to him or did he truly wonder about her sanity? Fear rose in her then, but it was herself she feared in this moment. “I might be,” she whispered back, completely unsure.
He squeezed her wrist once and released her. “Where are yer men?”
She frowned. “My men?”
“Yer guards? Laird Kincaide’s men.”
“Oh, ye mean Lamond’s men? Silas’s brother? Lamond is laird now.”
Brodee nodded. “Aye, I’m referring to Lamond.” Distaste weighed his words. “But he is nae laird here anymore.”
She snorted. “Then I do believe Lamond did nae get the missive from the king,” she said jokingly. Lamond was very much alive and was acting very much the laird now that Silas was gone and had no heirs.
“I’m the missive,” Brodee said, not a trace of humor in his tone.
Confused and nervous, she cleared her throat. “I dunnae ken…”
Brodee raised his hand, and the men behind him withdrew their swords as one, causing a singing of iron to fill the air.
“What are ye doing?” she asked, her breath hitching.
“Taking what’s mine,” he said with cool authority.
“Ye need all these men to collect me?”
He laughed then, but it immediately died—or rather, it sounded like he’d stopped it with the force of his will. His hearty mirth surprised her. Somehow, she’d not thought a man with the monikerthe Savage Slayerever laughed. Suddenly, his hand snaked around her waist, and her body went rigid with a flood of bad memories.
A derisive noise came from deep within him. “William, take her,” he said, his tone controlled and still low. It almost seemed as though he did not want to alert anyone to his presence. It hit her then that the horn announcing visitors had not blown as it normally did, and a suspicion rose.
“I’m nae going to be relegated to the position of watching yer mad wife,” William whispered, interrupting her thought.
Her spine stiffened at the man’s insulting words. Though she was certain it would behoove her to be thought touched in the head, she found she did not much care for it. Still, desperate people could not cling to pride, and she was desperate. Yet she was also pleased to discover she still had a shred of pride left in her. Honestly, she’d thought Silas had destroyed it all.
Brodee shoved her at the man. “Will, other than myself, ye are the best fighter I ken. I trust ye above all others to keep her safe.”
“Flatterer,” William said, flashing a large, toothy smile. Then his hands came to her waist, and she could not stop the hiss and the moan from escaping her.
“God’s teeth, Will,” Brodee snapped, his voice louder than it had been since he’d first spoken. “Be gentle with the lass, or I’ll cut off yer hands.”
“He was gentle,” she rushed out, fearing for the man. Now she understood exactly why Brodee Blackswell was called the Savage Slayer. If he would cut off his comrades hands for irritating him, what else was the man capable of? “’Tis nae him. ’Tis me.”
“I suppose ’tis good, in a way, that Silas had her fealty,” William whispered, speaking as if she were not there.
Brodee’s response was a grunt. She could correct the man William, but then again, it might be good for the Slayer to think Silas had her heart and that she clung to the memory of him. It would go far in helping her appear mad. Especially if she could not get her problem of blurting her thoughts aloud under control.
“Where do ye wish me to take the lass?” William asked.
Brodee turned to her. “Where’s the safest place in Crag Donnon, Patience?”
“The chapel,” she said. “Nae anyone has darkened the door, except for me, since I was wed there.”
“Nae even the priest?” Astonishment tinged Brodee’s voice.
Patience could not help but laugh. “Especially nae the priest.”
