Page 134 of Midnight Conquest

“Broderick, talk to me.” She stayed his hands. “Where are you going?

“Veronique was sent as a warnin’.” Broderick released a heavy sigh. “Angus intends tae slaughter the Gypsies.”

Davina gasped, her hand rising swiftly to cover her throat. “Rosselyn.”

“Aye.” Broderick’s gripped her shoulders. “Dinnae open the gates tae anyone, and keep Veronique secured until I return.”

“This is a trap, Broderick.” Her bottom lip quivered, and she drew it between her teeth to steady it. “I know Rosselyn—all of them—are in danger, but—”

“I ken.” He pulled her into his arms, letting her strength seep into him. “I have tae risk it, though.”

He tilted Davina’s face to him and slanted his mouth over hers, tasting the tears on her lips. “I’ll be back,” he promised.

Broderick donned his cloak and ducked into the shadows of the courtyard. With one last glance at Davina standing at the castle entrance, he leapt the wall and dashed south toward Aberdeen. The safety of Rosselyn and his adopted kin fueled him, silencing the haunting echoes of past failures. He would not fail them—not again.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Davina paced restlessly along the chilled stone floor of the Great Hall. Her fingers worried the fabric of her gown, and despite her best attempts to calm herself, an unrelenting dread tightened in her chest.

She hated that concern still lingered for Veronique, even after all that had transpired. The betrayal was unforgivable. Yet the desperate vulnerability in the frail form Broderick had carried into the hall—fevered and broken—haunted her.

And then there was her condition. A blood slave.

Davina halted abruptly, pressing trembling fingertips to her temple as nausea churned her stomach. Blood-bound to Angus. Broderick had warned that Veronique would survive barely a week, yet he’d offered no further details. What exactly did such binding entail? Could Broderick himself wield such terrifying control?

Heavy footsteps broke through her spiraling thoughts, and she looked up to see Myrna entering from the serving room, herscowl etched deeply into her weathered features. She tossed a hand cloth over her shoulder with brisk disdain.

“How does she fare?” Davina asked carefully.

Myrna’s face darkened further. “Ate as if she’d never tasted food and growled like a wild beast when I spoke to her. Ungrateful, wicked thing.”

Davina exhaled softly. “She’s endured terrible suffering, Myrna. We can’t expect civility.”

Myrna planted her fists on her hips, eyes blazing indignantly. “Suffering? She tried to poison ye, milady! Set fire to the kitchens! Mark me, she’s fortunate to not be swinging by her neck at the gallows.”

Davina nodded. “Well, I can’t argue much of that. Have you done all you can to keep her comfortable at least?”

Myrna huffed, displeasure plain in the lines on her face. “Aye. I padded the stone bed with enough blankets to keep her bones from bruising or getting’ too cold. But I’ll not trust her with a brazier—she might set the place aflame.”

Davina nodded slowly. “Your caution is wise. Best not to tempt fate. Broderick should return soon, and then he’ll decide what to do with her.”

Myrna grumbled softly under her breath, her annoyance evident, yet she didn’t argue further. Instead, she adjusted her apron and shifted the conversation. “Supper’ll be ready soon, though Lilias has taken to her bed. Her rheumatism is fierce today.”

Davina nodded. “Let her rest undisturbed. Bring my supper upstairs, if you please. I’ll dine alone in my chamber tonight.”

“Aye, milady,” Myrna replied curtly, dipping her head slightly before turning away.

After supper, which Davina barely touched, she resumedpacing in her bedchamber—the only solution to her restless energy. Between Rosselyn being in danger and this Angus luring Broderick into what was obviously a trap, she wasn’t sure she was getting much sleep tonight.

∞∞∞

The inviting scent of warm oatcakes and butter gently roused Davina from an uneasy slumber. She blinked slowly against the morning sunlight filtering through the narrow window, exhaustion lingering heavily within her muscles. Myrna strode in quietly, setting a tray carefully upon the nearby table.

“Ye tossed all night, milady,” Myrna noted bluntly as she straightened, her voice firm yet not unkind. “Nay sense denying it—I heard your restless pacing. Thought it best to let you sleep in late. Oh, and Seamus fetched a fresh batch of honey this morning just for you, milady.”

Davina rose slowly, fatigue still clouding her mind. “Thank ye, Myrna. You’ve done far more than required.”

“Aye, well, someone must tend the keep when your mind’s elsewhere,” Myrna replied tartly, though affection softened her gaze. “Lilias is awake and feeling much improved. She and the wee bairn have already broken their fast and spent the morning playing.”

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