Page 39 of How to Heal a Highland Heart
That same distrustfulness of her intentions filled him, but he pushed it down. William had followed her this morning and Kinsey had done nothing more than perform all the duties the lady of the castle should perform. And she seemed happy to do the work, according to William. Maybe this time Brodee’s gut was wrong. It wouldn’t surprise him overly much, given how distracted he was by his new wife. Mayhap the lass developed a tender for Ulric. “He kinnae stay now that he’s made his choice, but ye can say yer goodbyes to him.”
With a hasty nod, Kinsey departed, and once the murmurings of the clan died down, Brodee spoke again. “The women of the clan will maintain their positions, but henceforth, ye will take yer orders from Lady Patience.” He glanced behind him to see that Patience’s jaw had dropped.
“She dunnae ken anything about this castle!” one of the women objected.
He went to Patience’s side and took her hand in his. He gave it a squeeze and was gratified, too gratified, when she moved close to his side. It was a sign of trust, and he seemed to relish it, which bothered him. “She will learn.”
“She dunnae care to,” Mari said.
“That’s nae true!” Patience protested. “I will prove it to ye.”
“Then ye can start immediately,” Mari said, a mocking lilt to her tone. “The nooning meal needs to be prepared, meals for the sick need to be delivered, and someone needs to gather herbs in the woods. Are ye too good or gentle to help with these chores?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Patience replied, and the woman’s eyes widened. Around Mari, the men and women nodded respectfully at Patience.
A swell of unexpected pride twisted in Brodee’s chest. Patience could have chastised Mari for speaking so rudely to her. She could have even punished her. But what she’d done was showed her kindness.
“Wife,” he said, his breath snagging in his throat when she looked up at him and smiled. It was like the sun had come out from behind a dark cloud. “I’d like to speak to ye for a moment before ye make yer way to the kitchens.”
She nodded, and after he bade the men to prepare for afternoon training, he led her from the courtyard to the garden. Once they were out of sight of the others, he turned toward her and captured her hands. The overwhelming desire to kiss her again rushed through him, but he would not. Not yet. He needed to learn what had made her so fearful last night, so he could banish that fear. Until then, he would restrain himself. Instead, he slowly raised one of her hands to his lips and brushed a gentle kiss upon her silken skin.
She let out a little sigh he did not think even she was aware of, and she leaned in toward him. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to give in to his yearning. “Ye made me verra proud in the courtyard.”
Her lips parted and then she grinned. “I did?”
“Aye. Ye will gain the respect of the women once ye show them ye are willing to lead and aid them.” He wanted to ask her why she’d never taken up her duties as mistress, but he was almost certain it was Silas’s doing. Besides, he’d rather have her share the reason willingly, which he did not think she was ready to do.
She shifted restlessly before him, and then her gaze dropped to her feet. Shame. It struck him like a bolt of lightning. She tended to look down when she felt shamed. “I did nae wish to neglect my duties,” she said, her voice drifting to barely a whisper. “But Silas, well, he…he…”
“Forbade ye from offering help in the castle?” Brodee asked.
She looked up, her face clouded with uneasiness, but she nodded. “Aye. He said that they did nae want me around.” She started to look down again, but he caught her chin lightly with his fingers.
“Ye dunnae need to feel shamed. Tell me.”
He watched as something flickered far back in her beautiful, beguiling eyes. “He said I did nae have any knowledge to offer. He said that it made me worse than worthless; it made me a hindrance.”
“It’s too bad he’s dead,” Brodee said, rage coursing through him on her behalf. “I would gladly have taught him a lesson in how to treat a woman, one he’d nae ever forget.”
“I’m glad he’s dead,” she said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I suppose that makes me sinful.”
“Nay, lass,” he replied, pulling her into the protection of his embrace. She may not have felt she had anyone watching over her before—maybe ever—but he would ensure she understood she did now. He’d felt alone and inadequate just as she had, and it was a gut-twisting thing.
He thought she might pull away, as she had stiffened at first, but after a moment, she rested her head against his chest. “Do ye ken Greek mythology?” she asked.
“Aye.”
She tilted her head back and studied him. “Ye’re nae like Dolus, are ye?”
He laughed at her asking him if she was like the Greek god of trickery. “Nay, I’m nae a master of deception.”
“They call ye the Savage Slayer. Ye did nae come by that name for naught. There have been moments since ye came here that ye seem anything but savage, though. Almost tender.”
“Och, lass. Dunnae ever call a man tender. ’Tis the worst criticism.”
“’Tis nae a criticism,” she protested. “’Tis a compliment.”
“Nae to a warrior.”
