Page 20 of Midnight Conquest

At the main fire, Nicabar stood speaking with one of the elders. As the old man ambled away, Nicabar turned, his dark gaze narrowing as it swept over Broderick. A faint smile tugged at his mouth, but the scrutiny lingered beneath it.

“Broderick,” he said warm but edged with curiosity. “I thought perhaps you would stay away a while longer.”

Broderick grinned, swagger sliding back into place like a familiar cloak. “Och, and leave ye unsupervised? Someone’s got tae keep ye honest.”

Nicabar snorted, folding his arms. “What is it this time,mi hermano? You’ve got that look in your eyes that says trouble.”

“What look?” Broderick blinked, all mock innocence. “I’ve nay trouble to bring ye, my friend. Only opportunity.”

Nicabar raised a skeptical brow. “Go on, then. Let us hear it.”

Broderick stepped closer, keeping their conversation private. “One last stop before we head south for the winter. Stewart Glen.”

The faint smile on Nicabar’s face vanished, replaced by a frown. “North?” he asked, brows knitting. “That is no small request.”

“Just a few days. No more.”

Nicabar sighed and rubbed his hand over his jaw. “And what do you expect to find in Stewart Glen? The wind is already biting, and the first frost is not far off. If we waste time heading north, we will risk snow before we make it to warmer lands.”

Broderick nodded, his tone smooth and persuasive. “Stewart Glen lies just outside Strathbogie. They’ve gold to spend and goods to trade. They’ll want what we have—and pay well for it. A prosperous stop, I promise ye.”

Nicabar’s frown deepened. His arms crossed, his stance firm. “You are asking us to gamble our safety, Broderick. If you are wrong, we lose precious time—time we need to make the southern passes.”

“I’m no’ wrong,” Broderick confessed confidently. “I’ve kept this caravan safe for years, haven’t I? I’ve led ye to plenty of prosperous stops before, and I’ve never steered ye wrong.”

Nicabar hesitated. His lips pressed into a thin line, tension flickering in his jaw. Broderick saw it—the trust, the doubt, the weighing of risk.

So, he sweetened the pot. A sly grin tugged at his mouth. “Rosselyn.”

Nicabar’s head snapped up. His eyes narrowed. “What about her?”

“She’ll be there,” Broderick promised. “Davina’s handmaid, aye? That sweet lass ye couldn’t stop glancin’ at last time we passed through Aberdeen?”

Nicabar’s eyes flickered, and Broderick caught the vivid flash of memory that surged unbidden—Rosselyn’s laughter, the shine of her eyes, more intimate moments. A smile curved Broderick’s lips. “Och, tame yer thoughts, brother,” he teased. “I didnae need to see all that.”

Nicabar blinked, then chuckled despite himself. “Your gifts are unrivaled,mi hermano.

Broderick’s grin widened. “So, what do ye say? One last stop. Stewart Glen. We’ll be gone before the snow flies, and ye’ll have coin enough to make the winter easy in Edinburgh.”

Nicabar exhaled, hands planted on his hips as he considered it. “If you are wrong, I shall remind you of it every day ’til spring.”

“I willnae be wrong,” Broderick promised. “Ye have my word.”

Nicabar studied him for a long moment, then gave a curt nod. “Fine. One last stop. But if we do not leave in time to beat the frost, it is on you. Understood?”

“Aye,” Broderick said, inclining his head. “I’ll deliver. Ye’ll see.”

“We leave at first light,” Nicabar said, but his gaze lingered a moment longer, caution still threading his features. Then he clapped Broderick’s shoulder and turned away. “I hope you are right,mi hermano. For all our sakes.”

Broderick’s smile held, but something restless stirred behind it. He pushed it down, fixing his thoughts on Stewart Glen, and the woman who refused to let him go.

He turned to leave the camp, only to pause. A rustle. A shuffle. Someone stepped from behind a thick oak tree near the clearing’s edge. The man hunched forward, draped in a faded red shirt and a tattered headscarf that barely contained greasy tufts of hair.

The stink of unwashed skin and sour wine struck Broderick full force.

Something wasoffabout him. He’d deal with him later.

After he’d spoken to Amice.

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