Page 83 of Midnight Conquest

“Broderick,” she said, rising from her chair. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

He narrowed his eyes, his stare unflinching.

Finlay shifted under Broderick’s glare, adjusting his collar. “Well…anyway,” he muttered, trailing off.

“MacDougal,” Tammus’s voice cut through the air as he stepped into the chamber. “A word, if you please.”

Broderick didn’t move at first. His eyes remained locked on Davina, unreadable and dark. Then, without a word, he dropped his arms and followed Tammus out of the room, his boots thudding heavily across the stone floor.

Finlay exhaled slowly and turned to Davina. “Does he always look like he’s about to throttle someone, or is it just me?”

Davina shook her head, her brow furrowing. “I’ve never seen him in such a foul mood.” Well, except when Forbes threatened her. She hesitated, glancing toward the doorway, then back to Finlay. “It’s strange. I haven’t seen him for a full day. I wonder what’s happened.”

Finlay smiled again, his easy charm returning. “Well, perhaps it’s better not to dwell on it. May I have another one of those biscuits? They’re absolutely scrumptious.”

Davina smiled despite herself and gestured toward the tray. “Help yourself.”

As Finlay reached for another biscuit, Davina’s thoughts lingered on Broderick. He couldn’t possibly be jealous…could he? She shook off the notion. Of course not. She turned her attention to Finlay and focused on mythology instead of the brooding Gypsy in the other room.

“Have a seat, please,” Tammus suggested as he indicated the chair by the hearth.

“I’ll stand.” Broderick remained rooted to the floor, arms crossed, blood simmering. That was the lad from his dream—the one with his hands all over Davina. What in blazes were these dreams trying to tell him? Too many details overlapped with the waking world to dismiss them as mere fantasy. What did it mean about McIntosh? His fists tightened beneath his arms, barely suppressing the fury that surged at the memory of that man touching Davina’s bare ass and her perfect, full breasts.

“What has you in such a temper?” Tammus asked, settling into the chair behind the desk.

“Nothing.” Broderick drew a deep breath to steady himself. “What can I do for you, Lord Tammus?”

“Actually, nothing.” Tammus jerked his thumb toward the doorway. “Davina and Finlay have been enjoying each other’s company since this afternoon. I think we finally have a match. Which means you won’t need to be around her supervising their visits. I have everything in hand now.” He leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. “She seems very comfortable around him, don’t you think?”

Broderick’s jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might crack. He forced his arms to stay crossed, though every muscle in his body screamed for motion. His voice, when he finally spoke, was measured and cold. “If you believe it best, my lord, then I will defer to your judgment.”

Tammus raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at Broderick’s civility, but nodded. “Good man. I knew you’d understand.”

Broderick offered a curt nod, his face a mask of indifference, though his insides were being ripped apart. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

“Of course,” Tammus said, waving him off.

Broderick pivoted on his heel and strode out of the room, his boots thudding heavily against the stone floor. As he passed through the foyer, his eyes were drawn—against his will—to the open doors of the Great Hall.

God’s blood, she was beautiful.

Davina sat at the table, laughing softly at something Finlay said. Her cheeks were a tempting shade of pink, her expression warm. Her smile, like the sun. Finlay leaned forward, his back to Broderick, gesturing animatedly as he spoke.

For a moment, Broderick couldn’t look away. His gaze locked with Davina’s, and her laughter faded. Her smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. She dropped her gaze to her lap, her fingers fidgeting with the folds of her skirt.

Broderick’s chest tightened. He forced himself to turn away, his strides quickening as he left the castle.

Broderick ran.

The forest blurred around him, the biting night air biting at his face, but he didn’t slow down. Each step pounded out a fraction of the storm raging inside him, though it wasn’t enough.

She deserves happiness.

The thought was like a knife twisting in his gut. And Finlay McIntosh—damn him—was perfect.

Broderick skidded to a halt, his chest heaving. The image of Davina’s smile, the sound of her laughter, echoed in his mind. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

With a roar, he lashed out at the nearest tree. The trunk splintered under the force of his blow, deafening in the quietnight. He struck again, and again, until the tree groaned and toppled to the ground.

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