Page 31 of How to Heal a Highland Heart
“What?” Cul cried out to Brodee’s announcement. “We would ken the marriage is true between yerself and our mistress.”
Brodee’s eyes grew hard and filled with dislike. “Ye will have my word, and ye must satisfy yerself with that.”
“What is yer word to us?” Cul demanded.
Patience wanted to curse Cul.
“My word is law, unless ye care to challenge me here and now for the lairdship.”
A gasp swept through the room, and she found herself grasping his fingers in sudden worry for Cul. The lad was young and foolish, and she did not want Brodee to become too angry with him. “Brodee,” she whispered, but he kept his gaze on Cul.
“I accept the challenge,” Cul said. “If I win, ye will give us the public bedding.”
Patience wanted to shrink from the possibility.
“Dunnae fear, Wife,” Brodee said, his gaze suddenly boring into her. “I will nae lose. I vowed to protect ye, and I dunnae ever break a vow.” To Cul, he said, “If I win, ye will bend the knee and pledge eternal fealty.”
“If ye can best me, I’ll do it with pleasure,” Cul replied.
She couldn’t watch.
No. I have to.
Patience clenched her teeth and fisted her hands at her sides as she forced herself to stare straight ahead into the center of the circle formed by the Blackswell and Kincaide warriors who surrounded Brodee and Cul in the courtyard. Both men had stripped down to only their braies, and Patience stared openmouthed at her husband and the picture of raw power he presented. He was all hard planes, dips, and swells. And where his braies clung to his hips, his abdomen rippled to aVbetween his hip bones.
She trailed her gaze upward once more, the odd marking on his right shoulder catching her eye. It appeared to have a circle with a dagger through it inked on his shoulder. She could not help wondering what it stood for.A battle won? An enemy defeated?
Her belly tightened looking at him. Neither of her former husbands could have compared to Brodee. They’d been warriors, but Brodee was a different breed of man. He’d been born, and she was almost certain bred, to fight. He moved with the grace of a trained hunter—lithe, fast, lethal. He circled Cul once, twice, then darted forward, planting a hit on the man’s nose that jerked his head backward and sent the sound of broken bone echoing through the captive audience.
A breath later, cheers erupted from the Blackswell warriors, and the men stomped their boots, making the ground beneath her feet vibrate. A cool wind gusted suddenly, sending the flames of the torches up higher and casting a dark shadow over Brodee as he danced backward for a step.
She thought perhaps he would consider his next move, but he sprang forth again, emerging into the orange glow cast from the flames, and he looked ferocious. Her breath caught in her chest when he delivered a blow to Cul’s stomach as the youth righted himself from the last hit to his nose. Cul doubled over once more, and Brodee swung his hand down, like a blade to the back of Cul’s neck, to send the warrior sprawling to the ground.
“Finish him!” came a cry from Ulric, who was clearly not pleased that one of his warriors had lost. For one suspended breath, when Brodee held his hand out for his sword that William had possession of, and then her husband brought his sword forward, she feared Brodee might “finish” Cul by killing him. Maybe her new husband had no tolerance for weakness. Ivan and Silas had both been that way.
“Nay!” she screamed, over the jeers and cheers from the men.
No one seemed to notice her, except her husband. His eyebrows arched in obvious surprise, and then he brought the tip of his gleaming sword to the ground near Cul’s hands. The man was struggling to get to his knees, but when he finally managed it and raised his bloodied face to Brodee’s, Brodee spoke. “Pledge yer fealty, respect, and protection now and foreverto my wifeor leave my home.”
She froze as her head swam with disbelief. He’d fought Cul not to gain respect for himself but for her. He’d done it to get a pledge ofloyalty to her. A vow of protectionto her. She rushed to Brodee, driven by a wave of gratitude and awe, and she touched her hand to his arm.
A twinkle of moonlight caught his eyes as he glanced to her, and she could have sworn she saw tenderness there. “Thank ye,” she whispered.
He nodded, then brushed a thumb against her cheek and smiled. “Ye’re welcome, Wife.”
His voice slid over her like silk and made her shiver. The hope that had blossomed grew just a bit more, but once the pledge had been given to her and Brodee took her hand to lead her inside to their bedchamber, her stomach roiled and gooseflesh swept her skin. She knew he intended to join with her, and all she knew of bedding was humiliation and pain.
With each step she took up the stairs, her nervousness grew, so that by the time he stopped outside of what was now his bedchamber—what had been Silas’s not so long ago—she froze. He opened the door and motioned for her to enter, but all she could do was stand there. When he raised his hand, she flinched, suddenly certain he would slap her as Ivan used to do, but a feather-light touch grazed her cheek.
He trailed his hands to both her shoulders where he settled his warm palms. “Are ye so frightened of me that it makes ye tremble, Patience?”
She swallowed, unable to form words. All she could do was look at her new husband as he stared down at her with sharp, assessing eyes. She suddenly wanted to run and hide, find the shadows she’d grown accustom to dwelling in and return there. If she stayed too long in the light, he’d see her for who she really was. He’d discover her shameful secrets. She could not feel passion in joining; she never had. His kiss came to mind and how it had made her feel so alive, unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
Maybe ’tis nae me?
“What?” Brodee asked, a crease appearing in his brow. His finger curled a tad firmer, but just enough that she was catapulted away from him and to Ivan. Ivan had been rough. Mostly slapping her, sometimes whipping her as he’d done the night they had wed. And when the whipping had been finished, he’d gripped her neck and taken her. She’d thought she would die because she could not breathe, and then later, she’d wished for death.
She groaned. She’d not meant to speak out loud. She clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to get Ivan out of her head. Maybe Brodee was not a bad man. It seemed he was good. She wanted something good and true in her life. She opened her eyes.
