Page 68 of Midnight Conquest

The raw protectiveness in his voice sent a strange warmth spiraling through her chest. She shook her head, chasing off the fluttering emotion before it rooted too deep.

“You can’t do that. I’m just…exposing him,” she said firmly. “Ian did far worse to me. If Forbes shows his true colors tonight, mayhap my uncle will reconsider.”

“Absolutely no’.” Broderick’s scowl deepened and the deadly intent in his quietly spoken words sent a chill through her.

She lifted her chin. “I’ll not sit back and let him woo me under false pretenses. If he’s as vile as I suspect, I’ll make sure Tammus sees it.”

“Davina,” he warned. “I am no’ lettin’ ye provoke him intae striking ye.”

“I might have to. My uncle is not going to believe you can hearthe thoughts of others. In fact, exposing that might jeopardize what we’re doing ifdoesbelieve it. I don’t think Uncle Tammus will appreciate knowing you may have poked around inside his head, too.”

His fists clenched at his sides. Anger radiated off him like heat from a forge—but beneath it simmered something unexpected. Something tender. Something she hadn’t anticipated.

All her life, Davina had abhorred the idea of needing a man. Though her uncle and father often spoke of protection, all she’d ever known from men was possession and pain. Who would protect her from the very ones meant to guard her? Not even her own home had been safe. Living these past several months without an overlord had been liberating. She ignored the legalities because freedom tasted far sweeter than permission.

But as Broderick paced before her, lost in thought, the flex of his muscles taut with barely leashed fury—onherbehalf—a slow, unfamiliar heat unfurled in her chest. He didn’t have to care. He didn’t have to burn with anger over her plight. But he did.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything. Even if we have just one night together, and I never see you again, I want you to know how much your opinion of me matters.”

He paused, the anger in his face softening. “Och, Blossom.” He sauntered toward her. “There’s no need tae thank me,” he whispered, his voice deep and as smooth as silk.

A knock interrupted them.

Davina turned toward the door, her stomach sinking.

“Sweetling?” her mother called from the other side. “Laird Forbes has just arrived.”

She glanced back, but Broderick was gone.

Yet his words caressed her mind like a vow whispered in the dark. “Nay worry about Forbes, Blossom. I willnae let him touch ahair on that bonnie head o’ yers.”

A smile tugged at her lips despite the dread in her belly. She straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, and opened the door to join her mother.

Let the evening come. She was ready with Broderick at her side.

Chapter Twelve

As the guard opened the front door for Broderick, the aromas of the coming feast and spiced wine drifted through the air. Broderick inhaled deeply, savoring the scents. He removed and hung his cloak by the door, then paused, his keen hearing catching the low murmur of voices coming from the study. Tammus’s familiar baritone carried easily, followed by another voice—smoother, more measured, with an edge of rehearsed charm. The voices grew louder as the study door swung open.

Tammus stepped out, greeting Broderick with a cordial smile. “Broderick. I’d like you to meet Laird Arthur Forbes, an old friend of mine and business associate. He’s come up from Aberdeen.”

Forbes’s assessing gaze dragged over Broderick, his posture straightening with forced confidence—chest puffed, shoulders squared. Broderick met his stare without blinking and noted the faint twitch in the man’s jaw. Forbes stood just an inch shorterthan Broderick, but his clenched fists revealed he already felt overshadowed. And interestingly, Broderick heard nothing—no stray thought, no whispered intentions.

Curious.

Broderick’s lips curved in a knowing smile. He’d encountered men like Forbes before—those who mistook dominance for strength and arrogance for command. They were always the same: posturing roosters with no true claws.

Forbes flashed a grin, all teeth and show, but his eyes remained cold. A glint of challenge shone as he extended his hand. “Broderick,” he said smoothly, but the undertone in his voice carried a distinct edge.

Broderick glanced at the proffered hand, then accepted it.

The moment their palms met, Forbes gave a tug—testing, gauging. It was subtle, meant to appear casual, but Broderick didn’t yield. He resisted the gesture, watching the man’s grin stretch wider, the challenge deepen. Forbes tugged harder. Still, Broderick remained rooted, his grip steady, his arm unshaken.

The tension between them intensified, unseen yet undeniable. They were like two predators on the prowl, neither willing to be the first to back down.

“Pleasure tae meet ye, Laird Forbes,” Broderick said, cocking an eyebrow.

Forbes chuckled, though the sound was strained, and squeezed Broderick’s hand in a clear contest of strength. Broderick didn’t flinch. He could have crushed the man’s fingers with ease, but he held back, letting Forbes strain against him.What a child, Broderick thought, and gave a brief squeeze.

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