Page 36 of How to Heal a Highland Heart
Nine
Guard, indeed! Patience trudged toward the courtyard as the bell rang. Or rather, she was guided along by Cul. She had no notion how he’d come to be appointed as her personal guard, given Brodee had been so angry with the young man last night. But she was fairly sure that Cul had been given the duty because Brodee thought her truly mad after her bout of talking to Silas at her bedchamber door.
After many sleepless hours, she had come to the conclusion that she was not truly touched in the head, nor was Silas’s ghost talking to her. Her dead husband’s voice was certainly in her head, but that was of her own doing. She knew that. Just as she knew that she was more afraid of her past memories of Ivan and Silas than she was of Brodee. At least at the moment.
There were too many instances since she’d met him where he’d shown that he was not a savage man for her to dismiss them. She would proceed prudently until she learned more of his character. Caution and hope. They were both there—no point in trying to deny it. If he was good, a world of possibilities would be dangling in front of her. Ones she’d not dared to allow herself to dream about.
Restrain eagerness, Patience.
“My lady?” Cul said from behind her.
Blast, she had to get a firm grasp on her loose tongue. She waved a dismissive hand, praying Cul would follow her lead. “I was simply reminding myself to take a care on the stairs.”
Suddenly, Cul was beside her, gripping her arm to aid her down the stairs. The consideration startled her so greatly that she paused and was certain she was gaping at him, because when she inhaled, the cool air of the afternoon made her teeth ache. The temperature had dropped considerably overnight, which was a sure sign that fall was coming to an end and winter would soon be here.
She allowed Cul to lead her down the stairs, though she was perfectly capable of walking down them herself. She noted the way he stood taller and pride seemed to shine from him. Distant observation had revealed to her some time ago that the young warrior was not a favorite of Ulric’s; therefore, he’d struggled to find a place in the guard.
“Tell me, Cul,” she said, as they left the stairs for the long corridor that led to the main entrance. “How did ye come to be appointed as my personal guard?” As they made the turn, she noted a man was following them—one she was certain was a Blackswell warrior.
Cul did not appear to notice. “Laird Blackswell gave me the honor this morning.”
The honor? The man thought it an honor to guard her? She felt her mouth pull into a smile.
“The position is mine unless someone challenges me for it in the tournament and bests me. Then I’ll have to cede the position to them,” he went on. “But Laird Blackswell offered to personally train me every day to ensure my skills are superior.”
She imagined Brodee had a great many pressing things he’d have to see to every day until he had the men completely under his command and the castle running the way he wished, yet he was going to take the time to train Cul? Why? Had he seen potential in him and wanted to aid him? The thought of being married to a man who would do such a caring thing filled her with warmth.
As if Cul had heard her silent thoughts, he said, “Yer husband is a verra fair man.”
“Is he?” she asked, hoping Cul would provide more insight.
He stopped and faced her, his dark eyes friendly and warm. “Aye. I vow it. I ken ye must have heard all the same things I have about him being the Savage Slayer and all that his reputation entails.”
She shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant.
“Despite my foolishness in the great hall last night, my lady, he told me this morning that it was forgotten by him.”
Not lies. He did not forget or forgive those. He’d said it himself. Would he forgive her if he knew for certain she’d lied?
She bit her lip. Was she truly considering being completely honest with a man she’d known one day based off the opinion of a young warrior who was clearly in awe of her husband?
“May I speak bluntly, my lady?” Cul asked, his voice slightly hesitant.
The earnest look he gave her tugged on her heart. She nodded.
“Laird Kincaide was nae a forgiving man,” he admitted. “He would remind me daily of my faults and mistakes.”
“Ye are nae the only one,” she murmured, then turned her head quickly away, horrified she’d revealed that much. She got another glimpse of the man following them, and she pulled to a stop. “Ye go ahead to the courtyard. I dropped a ribbon. I’ll be right along.”
“I’ll get it for ye,” Cul offered.
“Nonsense,” she said, trying to make her tone sound as unbending as Brodee’s had yesterday. “I dunnae need a guard in this passage, and I’m perfectly capable of retrieving a dropped ribbon.”
“But, my lady—”
“I order ye to go,” she cut in, quite sure he’d simply ignore her order. So when he inclined his head and did as she had bidden, she grinned, barely resisting the urge to shout her happiness. Not that she took pleasure in ordering Cul about, but it was so unexpected to have someone listen to her as if she mattered.
Once he was out the door to the courtyard, she turned and looked down the corridor. “Ye can come out,” she called. When the man who she was quite sure had been following her did not show himself, she said, “That’s fine. Stay in the shadows. I’ll simply tell my husband someone is following me and my guard.”
