Page 89 of Midnight Conquest

Rosselyn’s lips parted, but no words came. She took a breath, as though working up the courage to say something, but before she could speak, a knock on the door interrupted them.

The sound startled them both. Davina set her cup down gently, her heart giving a little leap. Morning light bathed the room in soft gold, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt suspended in time.

“Enter,” Davina called, her voice steadier than she felt.

“Davina?” Lilias opened the door and stepped into the room, her expression grim. “Your uncle requests your presence in the study. Immediately.”

Davina frowned, setting her tea aside. “What’s this about?”

Lilias folded her arms, her tone clipped and laced with simmering frustration. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

The way Lilias’s eyes narrowed made Davina’s stomach twist into knots. Her mother was clearly furious. Smoothing her gown to mask her unease, Davina rose from her chair and cast Rosselyn a quick glance. “Save some tea for me,” she said, forcing a threadof levity into her tone.

Rosselyn managed a weak smile, but her eyes betrayed her worry.

When Davina entered the study, she found Tammus pacing behind the desk, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. The tension hung heavy in the air, thick enough to choke on, and his expression thundered with barely contained rage.

“What did you do?” he barked, his voice slicing through the stillness and making Davina flinch.

She froze just inside the doorway, her heart thudding against her ribs. “I don’t understand.”

“What did yousayto him?” Tammus snapped, jabbing a finger at her. “What did you do to make him want to leave?”

Davina’s blood ran cold. “Leave?” she breathed, her voice thin with disbelief.

Tammus’s glare hardened. “Finlay. He left just before dawn. The lad looked like he’d seen a ghost! Said he couldn’t marry you. Claimed he’d changed his mind.”

Her knees nearly gave way beneath her. She grasped the back of a nearby chair for support, her mind spinning. “Nay,” she said, shaking her head in denial. “That doesn’t make any sense. He left?” And then, like icy water dousing her skin, the truth dawned on her.

Broderick.

Tammus threw his hands up in exasperation. “Aye, he left! And now we’re in a bloody mess. That boy was the last decent chance you had. If you think I’ll bow to your manipulation—”

“Uncle, nay!” Davina’s voice rose in desperation. “I didn’t do this! I like Mr. McIntosh. He said I’d made him the happiest man in the world when I accepted his proposal. Why would I reject him whenMacLeodis my alternative?” Her voice cracked, andshe shuddered at the very thought of the brutish merchant. “I’d die before I let that cur get his hands on me again.”

Tammus sighed heavily, sinking into the chair behind his desk. He rubbed his temples, exhaustion etched deep into his features. “MacDougal,” he muttered under his breath.

Davina frowned, her brows knitting together. “What?”

“MacDougal.” Tammus lifted his head, dawning realization flaring in his eyes before narrowing them on her. “Has he been coming to your chamber at night?”

“Broderick?” Davina’s heart jolted against her ribs. Heat crept into her cheeks, but she forced herself to meet his gaze, steady as stone. “Nay,” she lied. “Of course not. Why would you even ask that?”

Tammus grunted, clearly unconvinced. “I saw him in the courtyard late last night when I was working on the contract. Seemed to drop down from above.”

Davina’s stomach twisted into a knot.

Her gaze lifted instinctively to the ceiling, her pulse quickening.

Tammus followed her line of sight and cursed under his breath. “It had to have been MacDougal. Maybe he’s the reason these suitors have been leaving or changing their minds.”

Davina swallowed hard, biting back any defense that might give her away.

“Does he have romantic intentions toward you?” Tammus pressed, planting his fists on the desk as he leveled her with a piercing stare. “Well?”

She forced a high-pitched laugh, though it sounded brittle even to her own ears. “Of course not. He’s just a friend.”

Tammus snorted, the sound thick with disbelief. “Aye, well, it seems he wants to be more than friends.”

---