Page 38 of How to Heal a Highland Heart
“It was not his fault,” she hurriedly explained. “I ordered him to leave. If ye wish to punish someone, punish me.”
“I dunnae wish to punish anyone, Patience. I only wish to keep ye safe.”
His words wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She nodded. “I’ll nae send him away again.”
“He’d nae leave ye even if ye did.”
“Let me guess,” she said, smiling shyly at Brodee, “ye threatened to cut off his hands if he ever obeyed me again?” She meant to tease, but she found herself holding her breath, wondering if Brodee had stripped her of all power before she’d ever really had any.
“Nay, Wife.” He moved closer to her so fast so didn’t have time to flinch, and he cupped her face in his large hands, stealing her breath. “I threatened to gouge out his eyes if he ever failed in his guarding of ye again. And I told him to obey ye in all things, unless he truly believed yer command would put ye in danger. Can ye live with that?”
“Aye,” she said, her pulse skittering alarmingly at the gentle slide of his fingers across her cheekbone. Yet it was not so very alarming that she pulled away. It was not like last night at all, when she had been terrified. He leaned in, the heat of him enveloping her, the scent of toil and sun surrounding her, and he slid a rough pad across her lips. She closed her eyes as his fingers hooked under her chin.
He was going to kiss her! He was, and she wished him to. She wished to know if the feeling he stirred before could be stirred again.
His face came beside hers, the whiskers of his several-days-old beard growth tickling her cheek, and then he spoke, his breath fanning her ear and sending delicious shivers down her spine. “Is the ghost quiet today?”
She sucked in a sharp breath and tilted her head so that she could see his eyes, but discerning what he was thinking was like trying to see to the bottom of a murky river. “So far,” she murmured.
“Good.” He pulled away from her then, and she felt the loss of him in every part of her, as if she’d almost grasped a prize except it had slipped through her hands. But then he caught her fingers and threaded them with his, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. She’d never held hands with her other husbands, and as she fell into step beside Brodee, she found that this gesture, this innocent gesture, awoke a longing in her she’d given up on many years ago and awoke a desire she’d had no notion she was capable of feeling.
Her simple plan to drive this man away had just become more complicated.
As Brodee led Patience to the courtyard, her small hand in his, he could not help but glance at their intertwined hands. It had been years since he’d held a woman’s hand. Some feeling he did not wish to define coursed within him. Abruptly, he turned his thoughts to the exchange he’d overheard between his wife and Fergus. She’d curtsied to Fergus, a man who was to serve her as Brodee’s wife. She’d showed humbleness and a generosity of spirt, and she’d displayed kindness.
Her fingers twitched, tightening around his hand as they stepped out into the courtyard. It was packed with Kincaide clanspeople and Blackswell warriors, with Ulric standing in front of them all as if it was his rightful place. Brodee glanced swiftly at Patience. Her lip was tucked under her lower teeth as she looked to Ulric. That knowledge that she feared the man made Brodee want to simply cast him from the clan, but he needed to be careful. Casting out Ulric might make him a martyr to Kincaide men who would otherwise be won over. But making Ulric want to go on his own, well, now, that would be fine.
Brodee led Patience to the center of the crowd with him and released her hand to hold his own up for silence. Once the people settled, he spoke. “I’ve called ye here for several reasons. For those of ye who were nae present in the great hall last night, I want ye all to hear that in a fortnight, we will have a tournament for all the Blackswell men and Kincaide men who wish to participate. If there is a position that ye wish to have in the guard, ye may put yer name in for it, and then ye will show me yer skill in the tournament.” Many of the clanspeople nodded. “I will use the tournament to help me decide yer assignments, but I will also be watching ye men these next couple of weeks. I wish honorable, hard-working men to be the leaders of our clan, nae simply men who are good fighters.”
A murmur of approval arose from the crowd, men and women alike. “I have also decided to create a council to sit beside me and share their opinions on the matter. In the end, the council will be made up equally of three Blackswell warriors and three Kincaide warriors, but until the tournament, and until I come to ken ye Kincaide men better, the council will include William MacLean, Fergus Blackswell, and Cul Kincaide.”
“Cul?” Ulric repeated, the words more snarled than spoken. “Cul is nae half the warrior I am.” He banged a fist to his chest.
Brodee closed the distance between himself and Ulric in one stride. They stood face-to-face and Brodee spoke, making sure it was loud enough that all could hear and take heed. “And ye are nae half themanthat Cul is. He’s already shown me his willingness to work hard and his forthrightness. Ye,” he said, poking the man in the chest, “were personally responsible for training Cul, we’re ye nae?”
Ulric’s face turned deep red, and his eyes narrowed. “Aye.”
“Then ’tis yer fault he is nae yet the warrior he should be. Ye are nae fit to command at this point in time. Mayhap nae ever. Ye will need to show much change.”
“And how do ye wish me to prove myself?” Ulric growled.
“Ye can start by shoveling horse dung from out of the stables,” Brodee said, matter-of-fact. Ulric’s glare, and lack of contrition, confirmed what Brodee already suspected. The man would never make a good leader. “That is yer job for now: mover of the dung.”
When snickers started to trickle though the crowd, Brodee held up a silencing hand.
Ulric shoved away from Brodee. “Ye expect me to shovel horse dung?”
“Aye,” he said plainly. “Or ye can leave the clan. Those are yer choices.”
“I’ll be leaving!” Ulric said, his hand moving toward his sword, but before his fingers ever grazed the hilt, Brodee had his sword out, as well as half his guard. The steel sang in the air. “Ye’ll leave under guard on two feet or carried away dead. ’Tis yer choice.” Brodee brought the point of his dagger up to Ulric’s chest. “Make it quickly. I dunnae have more time to waste on ye.”
“I will be back to the tournament,” Ulric snarled.
“I look forward to it,” Brodee replied, then motioned two of his men over. They immediately came to either side of Ulric. “Take him off my land, but let him collect his things.”
The guards nodded and fell in beside Ulric, who stormed away.
Kinsey rushed into the inner circle. “Ulric is stubborn and angry.” She turned all of her attention to Brodee. “I’ll go speak with him.”
