Page 94 of Midnight Conquest

Fury roared through Rosselyn’s veins. Without hesitation, she stormed into the caravan, grabbed Veronique by her tangled hair, and flung her out of the wagon into the dirt. The French woman landed with a squawk of protest, but Rosselyn slammed the door in her face and latched it before the girl’s babbling indignation could grate further on her ears.

Whirling to face Nicabar, Rosselyn found his lips curled in an infuriating smirk. Her palm cracked across his cheek, wiping the expression clean.

“I may have dreamed of a life with you,” she snapped, voice quivering with fury and heartbreak, “but I’ll not settle to be anyone’s whore! If you want her, you can have her!”

“Rosselyn, I—”

“I don’t need a man to fulfill my dreams.” Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “I have skills. I can make a life among the Romani—Amice will take me in. There are good, honest folk in this camp. I won’t disgrace myself for you or any man.”

She turned to flee the wagon, but Nicabar caught her arm and spun her back. She wrenched her head aside, refusing to meet his eyes, but he cradled her face between his palms, forcing her gaze to his.

“You do not understand!” he ground out, his voice rough with desperation. “I want nothing to do with her!”

“Then explain why she was half-naked in your arms!” Rosselyn’s voice cracked, tears spilling freely now.

“Veronique is a selfish child who always takes what she wants,” Nicabar bit out, holding her fast as she struggled. “I made a mistake,sí—but I never wanted her! She came to me, begging for information about you and Davina, all so she could keep Davina from Broderick.” He grimaced, his next words raw with discomfort. “I told her if she wanted anything from me…she’d have to give me her virtue.”

Rosselyn’s eyes widened in shock.

“I wanted to teach her a lesson,” Nicabar insisted. “To show her how foolish she was being, chasing after Broderick. She flung herself at me, tearing off her clothes. You walked in as I was stopping her—trying to make her see how ridiculous she was being.”

Rosselyn stared at him, no longer struggling, her heart breaking. “That is the mosthorridexcuse I haveeverheard!” She shoved him away and stormed out of the caravan.

Nicabar sprang from the vardo and caught her arm, spinning her to face him. “Rosselyn, please!” His eyes, dark and earnest, searched hers as he held her fast. “When you came in there and threw Veronique out, I smiled because I was proud of you, not because I was laughing at you.”

Rosselyn clenched her jaw, her pulse fluttering wildly in her throat as she fought to maintain her fury.

“And when you stood by what you believed, when you told me living with the Gypsies was your dream, my chest filled with more pride.” His voice roughened with emotion. He brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek, catching her tears. “Though you were not born in a vardo or on the side of a road, you are a true Gypsy in your fiery heart, and I want no other woman bymy side but you.”

Nicabar dropped to one knee before her, his grip on her hands reverent, as though she were a precious treasure. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his lips lingering as though sealing a vow. “I know this is sudden, and we have had little time together, but I feel this in my very soul. I want you to be my wife. Say you will, and I will show you the world,mi amor.”

Rosselyn stood before the man who had captured her heart so swiftly, her breath hitching, her lips trembling with emotion.

“Answer the man!” someone called from the growing crowd.

A circle of smiling faces had formed around them, the onlookers bright-eyed and expectant. Laughter, full of warmth and celebration, rippled through the group. Joy swelled in her chest, lifting the last of her fear. Looking down at Nicabar’s hopeful, handsome face, she gave a breathless laugh through her tears. “Aye, you reckless fool. I will marry you.”

Cheers erupted around them as Nicabar sprang to his feet and swept her into his arms, spinning her in a giddy whirl. Laughter tumbled from her lips as he set her back on her feet and claimed her mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss.

∞∞∞

Broderick strode up to the massive stone gatehouse, his boots gritting against the dirt path as the heavy door loomed before him. Inside, Gavin’s eyes shifted behind the narrow arrow slit, glinting like a pair of wary sentinels.

“I heard ye were lookin’ for me this afternoon?” Broderick’s voice rumbled as he folded his arms, a scowl darkening his face.

Gavin offered a curt nod. With a resonant clank, the ancient iron gate slowly swung open, creaking under the weight. Without a second thought or a pause for formalities, Broderick marched straight through the opening and through the front entrance, his heavy steps resonating across the stone floor of the foyer. He paused for a heartbeat before rapping on the study door, his knock echoing like a challenge.

“Enter,” Tammus barked from within.

Broderick swung the door open, then closed it with a solid thud behind him. In the dim light, Tammus slowly rose from his chair, his mouth tightening into a line of disapproval. “Did you pay Finlay McIntosh a visit last night?” he asked, his tone cutting through the air like a shard of ice.

Broderick’s jaw tensed as he crossed his arms once more, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly.

“I saw you scale that wall in the middle of the night, MacDougal,” Tammus continued, gesturing forcefully toward the tall, arched window behind Broderick. The glass framed a shadowy courtyard where the moonlight revealed the faint outline of the curtain wall. “You leapt down from the balcony of the guest room—two floors above where Finlay was lodged—without a scratch—and then scrambled over that wall. I was right here when you did it.” Tammus’s hand trembled, betraying his inner turmoil.

A brief silence followed before Broderick replied, “Aye, I paid him a visit.” There was no point in denying.

Tammus rubbed his face, his hand sliding down in a slow, deliberate motion as if to erase more than just sweat. His eyes struggled to focus, blinking rapidly as if trying to cast off a lingering daze. “Alright,” he said, voice catching on the pause, “let’s manage one thing at a time. How in blazes did you managethat?” With a sudden motion he thrust his open palm toward the window, demanding an explanation from the moonlit scene beyond.

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