Page 40 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
His jealousy over Gavin touching his wife had resulted in Broch foolishly taking Katreine home earlier than he’d planned. He had intended to travel back with her to Thioram the day after the incident and had hoped to share a tender joining to ease the hurt she’d undoubtedly feel when he left her. And now that the man was before him, looking arrogant, Broch wanted to decimate him on the training field. The logical side of his mind knew that it was his own damn fault he’d allowed his possessiveness to make him act in haste, but he wanted to blame someone for the separation from Katreine he was being forced to endure. And at the moment, since he was no closer to finding the murderer among them, Gavin seemed the perfect person to lay the fault at his feet.
Yet, as he summoned the warrior into the training ring, he recalled what Katreine had said when they’d first met: all Blackswells were dishonorable, despicable men. If he unleashed his anger at himself and his circumstances upon Gavin, he would be proving his wife correct, when he was in the mess because he’d set out to prove her wrong about his family.
With a sigh, he motioned Gavin closer, vowing to teach, not torture. “Show me what ye can do,” he said, and before he could step back to raise his sword, the man launched an attack. Gavin thrust his sword toward Broch’s stomach, which Broch barely avoided by jumping backward.
“This is training, ye daft fool!” Brodee yelled at Gavin.
Broch shook his head at his brother for silence, even as he parried Gavin’s blows, first on the left and then the right. The man had skill and a lot of anger, which all seemed to be directed at Broch, likely for the humiliation he’d endured at Broch’s hands. For that, Broch would give Gavin this one opportunity to try to best him.
“Ye wish me to restrain myself with ye?” Gavin snarled at Broch, catching him across the arm with his blade, which cut easily into his skin.
Broch gritted his teeth and shook his head. “Give me all ye have, and I’ll show ye why it’s nae enough.”
That seemed to further enrage Gavin. He turned nearly purple in the face and swung his sword toward Broch’s neck. Broch ducked, came up, and caught Gavin on the leg, but drew his sword back before it could do real damage.
Gavin let out a guttural sound. “I’m nae afraid of ye, Blackswell’s eldest son,” he boomed. “I’ll send ye back to yer maker, aye.”
“My lord,” several of Broch’s men called out, their worry at Gavin’s threat apparent. Even Brodee stepped toward Gavin.
Broch shouted, “Hold,” at his brother, who stilled, appearing pained at following the command.
“I’m nae quite ready to meet my maker,” Broch responded to Gavin, dodging another jab of the man’s sword. But this time, he swiveled back into it and knocked Gavin’s weapon with such force that it went flying out of the man’s hands and landed at Brodee’s feet.
Brodee promptly kneeled, picked it up, and stepped toward Gavin, who now stood still with his palms up in the sign of surrender. Brodee pointed the sword at Gavin’s chest. “I should gut ye for threatening my brother.”
Broch yanked Brodee back and gave him a nod of thanks before addressing Gavin. “I ken ye’re vexed with me for the incident in the great hall the other night. I’ll nae apologize, as ye likely want. Ye touched my wife. Dunnae do so again.”
The man glared at him, a vein pulsing near his right eye. “Ye think she’s too good for me to dance with because I’m nae one of the laird’s sons?” Gavin snapped.
It was easy for Broch to spot a man who felt he had something to prove, who felt he was somehow lesser, because Broch had been such a man. A shaft of pity stabbed him, but that did not mean he was about to excuse Gavin for openly trying to woo Katreine.
“I think my wife is too good for me,” Broch countered, “so aye, I believe she is too good for ye, as well. But since luck letmewed her, she is mine to keep and protect. I dunnae share what is mine.Ever.And if ye kinnae accept that, then we will have a true quarrel.”
“As ye wish,” the man snarled before turning on his heel and striding away.
Brodee came to stand by Broch. “That’s a man with something to prove.”
“Aye,” Broch acknowledged, thinking of his own past. “It’s being raised fatherless, I think. I’ll keep my eye on him.”
“As will I, Brother,” Brodee promised as the supper bell rang. Brodee slung his arm over Broch’s shoulder. “Shall we sup?”
Broch nodded, and they made their way into the great hall. As they entered, Broch noted a willowy woman with long black hair sitting at the dais, speaking to their father. She was seated at Broch’s place. “Who is that?” Broch asked.
“’Tis the healer, Esmerelda. Gavin’s mother. She birthed us.”
“Aye,” Broch replied. “I ken. The bard told me. She’s verra beautiful.”
“At one time I thought perhaps Da might take up with her, but though he speaks with her often, he is distant with her.”
Broch watched his father, who appeared almost uncomfortable as he spoke to the healer. “Did ye ever ask him about it?”
“Oh, aye,” Brodee replied. “He said not in this life or the next could any woman replace our mother.”
The two men stood there for a moment, grinning at each other, and for the first time in his life, Broch felt at home. It would be perfect when Katreine was by his side once more. Thinking of her made him ponder what his father had said. “I can understand that,” Broch said. “I kinnae imagine ever taking another wife if Katreine died.”
“Already?” Brodee teased.
“Aye, Brother. Already,” Broch replied, not minding speaking of this to his brother. He was, after all, the elder brother giving advice to the younger one. “One day ye will meet a lass and ye will ken what I am saying. When she is the right lass, ye will ken it. And when that space inside ye reserved for the special woman has been filled, there is simply nae filling it with another.”
