Highland Brides 04 - Lion Heart

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  “Broc isn’t staying,” Colin told her, rising from his seat at the table. “He merely came to wish us well.”

  Seana blinked in surprise. “But he only just arrived!”

  Broc stood to go. He understood what Colin was telling him without having to hear it spoken. Years of friendship had given them a like mind. He didn’t want Seana involved.

  He and Colin shared a glance, and then Colin began to gather the bread and cheese from the tray. While Seana wasn’t watching, he set the victuals within a napkin and wrapped it neatly, then came around the table to stand beside his wife.

  “’Tis late, Seana,” Broc explained. “I simply hadna the opportunity to speak with you after the wedding and wanted to wish you well together.”

  Seana smiled, but he could tell she didn’t quite believe him, because she cast her husband a puzzled glance. She turned again to Broc. “I have much to thank you for, Broc. If it weren’t for you, I’d never have found Colin.”

  Broc stepped forward to embrace her hastily. “Ye give me far too much credit, lass.” He bent to place a chaste kiss high on her cheek. “Both of you always knew where the other was; you simply had to rediscover each other again, and you did that all by yourselves.”

  Seana tilted him a warm look. “Well, I thank you even so. You cannot imagine how much your friendship has always meant to me.”

  Broc winked at her. He did understand, far more than she realized, from the first instant when she’d looked up at him so reverently after he’d dried her tears as a child. Every day thereafter that she’d looked at him, he’d spied the gratitude in her eyes. And it was gratitude that had nearly convinced her she should become his wife. He saw all that and more in her sweet face, and he hadn’t ever acknowledged her affection, because he hadn’t wished her to feel she owed him anything at all. It took more than gratitude to make a good match, and he’d wanted more for Seana than to have her spend her entire life trying to repay him for a simple kindness. He had done no more than soothe a little girl’s hurt feelings.

  “And yours to me,” he told her, tears stinging his eyes. He didn’t know why, but the moment touched him more than he could say. He turned then to Colin, quashing his unruly emotions. God’s teeth, he felt like a weepy wench at the instant. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

  “For what?” Seana asked him, obviously confused by their fragmented discourse.

  “For nothing,” Colin replied at once, and then to Broc he added, “We’ve known each-other far too long, my friend.”

  Broc placed his hands upon his hips, preparing to take his leave. “Aye, that we have.”

  Seana watched them more curiously yet, saying nothing. Broc was keenly aware of her regard. She was smart, he knew, and he didn’t want her to ascertain what they were speaking of. Still he had to ask, “Have you returned to the hut, Seana?” He tried to sound casual.

  “Nay,” she answered, and sighed. “I have not. It brings back too many memories as yet.”

  Broc nodded, understanding. Relief washed through him. “I know what you mean, lass. Mayhap ’tis a good thing for you to stay away from there for a while.” He leveled a look at Colin, knowing his friend would understand what he was trying to say.

  Seana’s brows knit. “Mayhap so.” She lifted her chin as she turned to regard her husband with narrowed eyes.

  Colin slid an arm around her shoulders. “She has no reason to return there at all.”

  Seana said nothing, merely reached up to grasp her husband’s hand, and studied them both.

  Broc nodded then and turned to go. “I hope to see the two of you verra soon.”

  “’And I you,” Colin replied.

  Seana’s tone was full of concern. “Be careful, Broc,” she said, reaching out to grasp him by the arm.

  He turned and winked at her. “I’m a big boy, lass. Dinna fret over me.”

  “Oh, and Broc,” Colin interjected then.

  Broc tossed his chin up in reply.

  “We’ll be searching again tomorrow if you wish to join us.”

  For an instant, Broc was flustered by the suggestion. He was momentarily unsure whether Colin truly had understood the point of their discourse. “I may,” he relented, but eyed his friend thoughtfully.

  Colin held his gaze. “I believe they intend to use her hound tomorrow.”

  Broc knit his brows. “Her hound?”

  Colin leveled him a significant look. “Aye, someone suggested mayhap the dog’s nose would find her mistress sooner than our eyes.”

  Broc thought about that bit of information. “It makes a lot of sense,” he said with a nod of comprehension. “Whoever suggested that is a wily bastard.”

  Colin nodded soberly. “I suggested it.”

  Broc smiled at him. “Figures.”

  Colin smiled back. “We’ll be heading out about noon, I think… if you should care to join us.”

  All the while, Seana watched them, her expression growing more curious yet. Broc determined it was best to leave before they inadvertently gave something away. As it was, he had involved Colin far more than he’d intended to, far more than his conscience allowed. Guilt pricked at him.

  Broc turned to go, and Colin followed him out, leaving Seana staring pensively after them.

  “I owe,” Colin murmured at Broc’s back.

  “You owe me nothing,” Broc assured him, without turning. They walked out the door.

  “Aye, but I do,” Colin argued, once they were outside. And then he added, “You saved my life once, Broc.”

  “I did no less than any friend would have done.”

  Colin nodded. “I have no notion what has happened, but I do know you, my friend, and I know you better than to think you would attack an innocent girl.”

  Broc’s shoulders tensed. “I would never.”

  “I realize that,” Colin acknowledged. “But I canna promise you anything more than a little time.”

  Broc halted abruptly and turned to face him, his gut churning. “I didna ask ye for even that, Colin.”

  Colin smacked him on the arm. “You dinna have to.” He handed Broc the cloth filled with food. “Dinna say anything more. The less I know, the better. Just go.”

  “Thank you, Colin.”

  “I know you would do the same for me” was all Colin said.

  Broc turned one last time to go. “Without question.”

  “Oh, and by the by,” Colin added. Broc cast him a glance but kept walking. “I know where you can find a lonely hound tonight.” Broc turned to face him but kept walking—backward, toward the woods. He clutched the food for Elizabet tightly in his hand, lest it spill. “Montgomerie’s stables,” Colin disclosed. “That is… should you find yourself lonely for Merry.”

  Broc swallowed his response, so great were his emotions. He couldn’t speak even to thank Colin. No man had ever been blessed with truer friends—and he repaid them all by endangering them by his duplicity.

  Without a word, he turned again and bounded into the woods.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What was that was that about?” Seana asked her husband when he came back into the hall, slamming the door behind him.

  He went to her and placed his arm about her shoulders, his jaw taut as he coaxed her toward the staircase. “Naught, my love.. Dinna worry about it.”

  “That wasna like Broc at all,” she remarked, hoping he would elaborate. But she knew Colin well enough to know he would never reveal whatever Broc had come to tell him. She respected his faithfulness but was hurt he wouldn’t share with her.

  They reached the stairs. “I’m weary,” was all he said, stepping back, urging her to go on before him.

  Seana lifted her skirts and climbed the stairs. “It has been a long day!”

  “Aye,” he agreed, “and tomorrow should prove just as tiresome.”

  She reached the top of the stairs to find her brother-in-law’s wife standing there, taper in hand. “I heard voices,” Alison said, “and Leith is fast asleep. I didn
’t wish to wake him.”

  “It was only Broc,” Colin reassured her, “come to ask about the search efforts.”

  “I hope they find that poor girl soon!” Alison declared.

  “As do I,” Colin replied, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. “Go back to sleep, Alison. All is well.”

  Alison turned a warm smile upon Seana. “Welcome home,” she said with genuine enthusiasm—as much as could be expected so late in the eve.

  Seana reached out to embrace her new sister, taking care with the candle flame, grateful for the warm reception. “Thank you, dear Alison.”

  “It will be my pleasure to share this home with you. Please dinna hesitate to treat it as your own,” Alison said with feeling, and Colin squeezed her shoulder slightly in response.

  “I appreciate that, Alison,” Seana replied.

  Alison lingered in the hall, looking warily up at Colin, and Seana understood. There was more to be said for their ears alone. Turning to Colin, Seana whispered, “I’ll be right in, my love.”

  Colin didn’t argue. He nodded, evidently having far too much on his mind. He bent to kiss her upon the cheek and went into their room, closing the door to give them privacy.

  Alison smiled shyly. “Sometimes I feel he still hates me,” she said very softly.

  It was no secret to any that Alison had once adored Colin and that he had rebuffed her. Considering that she and Alison now shared a house, as they were wed to brothers, Seana had worried that their relationship might be tense, but as she stood there looking at Alison’s sweet face, she knew she had worried for naught. There was something about Alison that made one want to place one’s arms about her shoulders and protect her from the world. Leith, Colin’s elder brother and laird, had done that very thing, and everyone had speculated their marriage had been born of pity. Seana knew better. Though she had never been close with Alison, she was wholly aware of the kind heart the woman possessed. Leith was a fortunate man. If Colin was uncomfortable in Alison’s presence, then Seana understood better than any the reason why. He had once recoiled from Seana in the very same manner he recoiled from Alison, but Seana had nearly outgrown her disfigurement, and Alison had not. She resolved somehow to find a way to make Colin look beyond Alison’s crossed eyes.

  “He doesna hate you,” Seana said, reaching out admiringly to caress the length of Alison’s shiny hair. She decided honesty was the best course between them. “He is but a clod when it comes to people’s imperfections.”

  Alison gasped in surprise and laughed nervously, casting a wary glance at the closed door.

  It was also no secret to anyone that Seana had once had a frail limb and that Colin had been repulsed by the weakness. Seana winked at Alison, indicating her bad leg with a wave of her hand. “But as you can see, there is hope for him yet.”

  Alison placed a hand over her mouth and giggled quietly.

  “We’ll get him past it,” Seana assured her new friend.

  “Och! It would be so wonderful to be one big happy family together!”

  “It truly would be.” The very thought of it filled Seana with joy. Growing up, she had never had anyone but her father. And now, suddenly, she had a best friend in Meghan and a sister in Alison. And Colin…

  She glanced longingly at the door.

  He made her happier than anyone ever could.

  “I shall see you on the morrow,” Seana promised.

  Alison nodded. “Oh, yes!”

  “Sweet dreams, then.”

  “Good night,” Alison replied, and turned to walk away.

  Turning to her bedroom door, Seana paused an instant to say a little prayer of thanks and then pushed the door open to find her husband standing at the window, staring out.

  “This is your home as well,” he assured her, mistaking Alison’s meaning.

  She walked up to him and put her arms about him, embracing him lovingly as she reached up on tiptoes to kiss his lips. “I know, Colin. Alison is wonderful, and I know I shall love her as though she were my own sister.”

  “Aye, but rest assured this manor is just as much yours as it is—”

  She lifted a finger to his lips. “Hush, now,” she demanded. “Why don’t we test our new bed before anyone else chances to knock on our door?”

  She didn’t have to ask again.

  With a quirk of his brow, Colin lifted her into his arms, and carried her to bed.

  Elizabet sat at the little table, her face close to the candle flame, trying to finish the last stitches of the tunic she was sewing.

  She had worked all day on the garment, fashioning it from the soft, fine cloth of her undertunic. She’d thought, at first, to cook for him, using the supplies he’d brought her, but they were depleted now, and she’d despaired of finding a suitable gift to show her appreciation for all he’d done for her. But then she’d recalled the needle and thread that she always carried in the hem of her dress to stitch herself back into her gown after it had been laundered, and she’d set to work trying to fashion a tunic he would be proud to wear.

  At this moment she wore only the velvety surcoat, which had a slightly more revealing neckline, but it couldn’t be helped. She was warm enough, and she was thoroughly pleased with her handiwork. In truth, she had seen no finer garment on King Henry himself. Broc would look splendid in it.

  Blinking with exhaustion, she sewed the last stitch and snipped the thread with her teeth, setting the needle aside. Later, she would return it to her hem. At the moment, she was far too weary even to move. She pushed the candle away from her and held up the tunic to inspect it, pleased with the finished product. She hoped it would fit him—he was so large a man!

  He was beautiful, she thought wistfully.

  She almost dreaded Piers’ return, because it would mean she could no longer be able to remain here with Broc. The little hovel no longer seemed such a terrible place, and the thought of leaving it made her somehow sad. She nearly regretted asking him to bring John to her now. Once her brother realized where she was, it wouldn’t be so simple a task to convince him she should remain with Broc at least until they revealed Tomas for the murdering thief he was.

  Her brother would protest for propriety’s sake. She knew it wouldn’t look good to a prospective husband. This could sully her reputation beyond repair. But she couldn’t consider that right now.

  She yawned, then folded the cloth, setting it down on the table. And then she laid her head down upon her arms and closed her eyes.

  Broc would take care of everything, she was certain. She felt safe in his care. John would surely understand… why she must remain… with Broc.

  She reached out sleepily to lay her hand upon the soft tunic and fell asleep trying to imagine Broc’s face when she presented it to him.

  He had to get rid of the hound before morning.

  Tomas sat listening to the conversation at table, trying not to roll his eyes at the elaborate show of affection between Montgomerie and his wife. The woman was no more than a Highland bitch, and he treated her as though she were the Queen of England herself. He had significant doubts about Piers’ loyalties. The way he pandered to his wife and her kinsmen, he was behaving more like a backwoods Scotsman than a servitor of the Crown. He’d be damned if he’d hand over Elizabet’s purse so that Piers could squander it on his doting wife.

  By God, he deserved the monies! Meager as the sum was, he sure as hell hadn’t bothered to kill two men only to lose it now. His sister would surely provide for him, but he didn’t particularly care for the notion of having to beg for every coin he received from her. Elizabet’s inheritance would see him through until Margaret’s husband favored them with his passing.

  He damned well didn’t want the wench to be found. No one but he, John and Elizabet had been aware of the purse John carried, and neither did anyone else realize there was a letter intended for Piers as well. Even if he wished to let it go now, he couldn’t. Elizabet would reveal far more than he could allow.

  Later, whe
n everyone had gone to bed, he would rid himself of the hound.

  “Tomas?” his hostess inquired, turning him from his reverie. Until now, they had rudely excluded him from their conversation, discussing matters that hardly interested him.

  The entire table now turned to face him. Like her husband, the men seemed to hang on Meghan’s every word. “Aren’t you at all hungry?” she asked and tilted her pretty head.

  For sheep’s gut?

  Tomas lifted his brows as he glanced down at the food, trying not to show his revulsion for the mess on his plate. He took a sip of-his ale before replying. “I find myself weary is all, my lady.”

  “’Tis understandable,” she graciously conceded. “It has been a wearisome day for all.”

  For an instant, Tomas thought she might dismiss him from her table as one would an unmannerly child. It left him with a sour feeling in his belly, and he suddenly no longer cared for their company—not even for the ale. As soon as he had taken care of a few unfinished details, he intended to be away from this place once and for all.

  He rose from the table abruptly, raking his chair back rudely. “If you will be so kind as to excuse me,” he said, taking his leave. “I believe I shall retire for the night.”

  “Pleasant dreams,” Meghan said with a smile.

  Bitch.

  He could see the relief flare in her expressive eyes.

  “We shall see you bright and early on the morrow,” Piers charged him.

  Arrogant bastard.

  Tomas could hardly wait for the day when he could stop taking orders from pompous arses.

  He bowed slightly with barely restrained anger, tempering his outrage. “Until tomorrow,” he said and left them, feeling their beady eyes upon his back.

  The sooner he was gone from here, the better.

  He wished that damned bastard Scotsman who had taken Elizabet would put her in her place, rape her unruly little arse, and then slit her throat and leave her body for them to find.

  Then he could leave Scotia in peace.

  Chapter Seventeen