Page 86 of Midnight Conquest

Davina forced a smile. “I’m glad.” She laid her head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her protectively.

What other choice did she have? Marry MacLeod? She shuddered.

Finlay pulled back from their embrace and frowned. “You’re shivering. Are you cold?”

She seized the excuse gratefully. “Aye, just a bit. It’s been a long day, and I’m feeling rather tired. Would you mind if I retired for the evening?”

“Of course not,” he said quickly, taking her hand and guiding her back toward the stairs. “Come, I’ll walk you down.”

As they reached the top of the stairs, a flicker of movement caught Davina’s eye. She paused, her breath hitching.

On the rooftop across the way, a shadow shifted—a man-shaped shadow, watching, waiting. The flickering torchlight cast a brief gleam across auburn hair and piercing, familiar eyes burning with intensity. She blinked and leaned over the rail by the stairs. It was gone in an instant, swallowed by the darkness.

“Davina?” Finlay asked, his brow creasing.

She forced a smile. “Coming.”

∞∞∞

The room was still, save for the soft, steady breathing of Finlay McIntosh. Moonlight filtered through the narrow window, painting the chamber in shades of silver and shadow.

Broderick stood over the bed, fists clenched at his sides, standing in the same position he stood two nights before where Forbes had once lay beneath his glare. His jaw was tight, teeth grinding as he fought the storm of emotions roiling within as he now glared down at the young lad.

He closed his eyes, but the memory heightened in the darkness.

Davina.

Kissing him.

The observation deck had been cloaked in night, but Broderick had seen it all too clearly from his vantage on the rooftop under his immortal gaze. Her face, upturned and glowing in the moonlight, lips parting as they met Finlay’s. Then the lad had fallen to one knee, his voice carrying faintly through the brittle night air.

Davina, will you grant me the pleasure…

Broderick had crouched low in the shadows, every muscle in his body drawn taut as a bowstring, waiting for her answer.

And then she’d said it.

“Aye.”

One word. Anything else she said after her acceptance of the proposal didn’t matter. That one word had pierced him like a dagger to the heart. He’d slumped back against the cold stone, squeezing his eyes shut, as though darkness could shield himfrom the cruel reality.

The bed creaked softly as Finlay shifted in his sleep. Broderick opened his eyes, his gaze smoldering with a fire that could have set the very air aflame. Finlay slept on, blissfully unaware of the predator standing over him.

Broderick could have left the castle hours ago. He could have run into the woods, let the beast inside him rage free beneath the canopy of the forest.

But he needed to be sure.

A handshake had told him Finlay was kind, respectful, perhaps even worthy. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to go deeper. To know the man’s soul. To ensure the lad’s intentions for Davina were pure and it wasn’t all a surface act.

Broderick reached out, his fingers hovering over Finlay’s temples. His hand trembled—not from fear, but from the strain of keeping his fury bridled.

Then, his fingers brushed the lad’s skin.

A rush of images flooded Broderick’s mind.

Finlay as a boy, chasing his younger sister through sun-drenched fields, laughter bubbling from his chest. Finlay as a young man, standing resolute before his father, swearing to bring pride to the family name. Finlay at court, expression guarded yet steadfast, navigating the venomous currents of Scottish politics without surrendering his principles.

Finlay building his empire—working tirelessly, treating his workers with fairness, earning the respect of his peers.

---