Page 33 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
She watched as Broch spun out of a blow Brodee had sent toward him, then circled behind his brother, relieved him of his sword, and knocked him to the ground. The crowd cheered for Broch as he held out his hand to Brodee to help him off the ground, but as he did, one of the men called out, “We see who the best warrior is!” In that instant, the laughter that had been on Brodee’s face vanished, he smacked Broch’s hand away, and bounding to his feet, stomped off.
Though it appeared the man was on the verge of showing his true self, Katreine did not feel triumph. Hurt flickered across Broch’s features for a moment before a blank expression replaced it. He turned when another warrior asked him something, and within seconds, he was training again.
Behind her, a voice said, “They will find their way. Ye will see.”
She turned, recognizing Blackswell’s voice. “What I saw is yer youngest son about to reveal who he really is.”
“Nay, lass,” Blackswell said. “What ye saw is Brodee hurt by words because of injuries and insecurities I myself gave him. For that, I’m guilty.”
She flinched at his words. He knew she was searching for guilt in their clan. “We shall see,” she snapped and started to turn from him, but he gently took hold of her wrist. With a glance over her shoulder, she said, “What?”
“Have ye considered what would happen if ye manage to convince Broch of what ye believe and then discover later that ye are wrong? How do ye think he would feel discovering ye robbed him of more time with the family that was lost to him for so long?”
“I’m nae wrong,” she growled, snatching her wrist away and storming from the courtyard. She didn’t know where she was going, but when she found herself at the top of the cliffs and she glanced down, she bit her lip, realizing she had unconsciously gone to the place where she believed her sister had been pushed. Katreine looked to where Lenora’s body had been found. She stared until the rock became blurry, her mind turning, doubting, questioning. What if shewaswrong? What if she convinced Broch of what she believed, but then discovered she was not right, as Blackswell said? Broch would likely never forgive her.
“I did nae kill her.”
With a gasp, she turned around and found Brodee standing there. Her heart began to race. “Did ye follow me?” she asked, looking beyond him to the pebbled path that led to where she stood.
“Nay. I came here after I fought Broch. I come here often.”
“Out of guilt!” she challenged.
He scowled at her. “Aye. But not because I murdered yer sister.” He stepped toward her, and she instinctually scuttled back, looking behind her to ensure she’d not fall. She had no room left to step away again. She sucked in a breath to try to calm her thundering heart. “If ye did nae kill her, why do ye feel guilty?”
“I feel accountable for her death, ye see. I did nae kill Arabel, my leman, either. And my own da did nae believe me!”
She didn’t know if that was desperation or anguish in his tone, but it frightened her. She scanned her surroundings, thinking she had just enough room to dodge between him and the trees to escape him. She edged a bit to the left, relieved when he didn’t move. Maybe she could lead him to say something to reveal the truth.
“That is nae a thing to feel guilt for,” she said. “Be truthful.”
“I saw her. I saw yer sister the night she was killed.”
“I kenned it!” Katreine gasped. “Ye did murder her!”
“Nay!” He stepped in front of her, blocking the path she had so foolishly not taken. Sweat instantly dampened her brow, and her pulse exploded. He held his palms up as if he sensed her fear. “I came here when she sent a note asking me to, and I answered her questions about Arabel. I was truthful. I told her that I had loved Arabel and wanted to wed her, but my father made me end it to wed yer sister. I would nae ever have harmed Arabel, nor yer sister. I left her here crying but alive, and for that, I will forever hold guilt and shame in my heart. I dunnae ken who killed yer sister, but it was nae me.”
“Ye expect me to believe ye after ye just admitted ye lied?” she demanded, her fright racing with her thoughts of her sister, her mother in grief, her own grief, her father’s and brothers’ hatred of Brodee and all Blackswells.
“Listen to me,” he pleaded.
“Nay!” she cried out, feeling enormous guilt herself because there was a part of her that did want to listen. If Brodee was innocent of murder, her future with Broch would be so much easier, even if the Blackswells were guilty of the raids. “I will nae hear more. Leave me be.”
For a moment, dread filled her that he wouldn’t. He raised his hand, and she was terrified for one breath that he would shove her. His shoulders sagged, and he looked almost stricken. The man was so good at showing a false face. Then he turned without a word and went down the pebbled path to the right, instead of the one she’d taken here on the left.
She faced the cliff once more and wrapped her arms around herself as the wind blew her hair back and wafted a cool breeze over her, raising gooseflesh on her arms. He’d sounded so earnest and looked so hurt that she stood there battered by the noise of doubt in her mind. A crunch behind her, footfalls on the pebbles, cut through her thoughts, but before she could turn, she was violently shoved, getting out no more than a scream before she tumbled off the ledge toward the cliffs below.
Thirteen
About halfway down the trail to the cliffs where Broch suspected Katreine had gone when she’d left the courtyard, a woman’s scream filled the silence. A wave of icy fear swept through him as he raced down the remainder of the narrow, twisting, pebbled path, shoving branches out of the way as he ran. Just as he came to the opening that led to a small clearing, he saw Brodee standing there, looking down toward the rocks below, and rage tore through him as anguish stabbed his heart.
He’d been wrong to trust Brodee.
The single thought rang in his head as he raced to close the distance to the ledge that overlooked the cliffs. As Broch ran toward his brother, he registered him dropping to the ground on his stomach, and then yelling, “Take my hand!”
Overwhelming relief that Katreine had to still be alive made him stumble. His hand grazed the ground and he gained steady footing once more. He reached his brother, whose fingers were now interlocked with Katreine’s. The terrified look on Katreine’s face felt like a dagger to his gut.
“Dunnae fash yerself, lass.” He tried to make his voice calm, even as his gaze slid the long distance down to the rocks below where she would surely meet her death if she fell.
