Page 41 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
Brodee and Broch started toward the dais, and as they did, the healer scampered away without a backward glance. “Is she always so friendly?” Broch asked sarcastically.
“Aye,” Brodee said with a chuckle. “She’s an odd one.”
They both greeted their father, and once they were settled, they turned to him and asked for stories of their mother almost in unison. All three of them burst out laughing, and they sat there for a great long time, listening to Blackswell tell them of their mother’s love of riding and swimming, and all things her father and mother had not thought fit for a lass, which was why she had run away. Broch drank liberally of his wine—and Brodee’s when Brodee said he was not thirsty—though the spirits were a bit sour for Broch’s taste. He had not been able to sleep since he’d left Katreine at her father’s home, and tonight, he simply wanted to sink into oblivion and start fresh tomorrow.
By the time dinner was over, his head and mouth felt as if they were filled with sheep’s wool, and he was seeing double of his brother and father, who finally seemed to be communicating. “I’m to bed,” he said, pushing up from the bench, but when he did, the room swayed before him. He tilted to the right, grabbed at the table to steady himself, and accidentally knocked Brodee’s wine goblet off the table. Red immediately stained Brodee’s plaid.
“I’m sorry, Brother,” Broch said, intending to say more, but something was pounding inside his head as if trying to escape it by cracking it in two. And a sharp pain came at his side, then in his stomach. “I think I’m dying,” he moaned, his brother and father swimming in and out of his vision.
As if from a long tunnel, he heard Brodee say, “God’s teeth! He’s been poisoned. Touch the wine to yer tongue, Father. ’Tis Widow’s Malice!”
“Poisoned,” Broch mumbled. “Aye.” He swayed again but knew instinctually he was going to fall into the pit of fire that had consumed his body. “Tell Katreine I loved her,” he managed to say before he crashed backward into darkness.
Sixteen
“Katreine!” Cadyn called as he pounded at her bedchamber door. “Ye’re wanted in the great hall.”
“Leave me be!” She pulled her blanket more securely over her head. It had been four days since Broch had left her here, but it felt like a lifetime. She missed him terribly, and she feared she’d made a grave mistake. Why had she embarked on such a ludicrous plan? She could have eventually shown him the truth of his family while there.
“Katreine,” Cadyn said as the door to her bedchamber squeaked open.
She sat up in the bed and glared at her brother. “Go away, Cadyn,” she said, though she knew her kindhearted brother only meant well.
He’d tried several times over the last few days to speak with her and reassure her that Broch would return. Even Donell had been restrained around her, not talking ill of Broch and going so far as to say he considered her husband a MacLeod at heart. She had no idea what had prompted Donell to make such a statement, especially given how he’d acted toward Broch during the Blackening ceremony. Or maybe it was because of the Blackening ceremony and the honor and strength Broch had shown that Donell had realized Broch was a good man.
Her bed dipped as Cadyn sat beside her, a grave look upon his face. “Ye must dress now. Father says ye’re to come to the great hall immediately. Brodee Blackswell is here to see ye.”
Katreine frowned. “Brodee? But nae Broch?”
Cadyn carefully avoided her gaze, which alerted her immediately that something was afoot. God’s teeth. Had Broch sent his brother to say he did nae ever wish to see her again? “Is he here on Broch’s behalf?”
“In a sense.”
“Oh God!” she wailed. “I’m such a fool. I—”
“Katreine, Broch was poisoned,” Cadyn interrupted.
“What?” Her mind reeled at the news, and when her brother nodded, she trembled with horrible fear. “He’s nae—” She swallowed. “I mean to ask, is he—
“He’s alive, Sister,” Cadyn said gently.
Such relief filled her that tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Normally, she would never show such weakness to her brothers or father, but presently, she simply did not care. Then another thought hit that had her reaching for the dagger that was sheathed at Cadyn’s hip.
He stayed her movements with his hand upon her wrist. “What are ye doing?” he demanded.
“I’m going to kill Brodee,” she replied, rage now boiling in her as she tried to jerk away from her brother’s hold, but his grip became unrelenting.
“Brodee did nae poison Broch. He has been working with yer husband to discover who murdered Lenora and Brodee’s leman and who pushed ye off the cliff at Hightower.”
She startled. “How did ye ken I was pushed?”
“When Broch brought ye home and ye marched upstairs in a huff, he told us about ye being pushed off the cliff, and then Brodee told us of seeing Lenora the day she died, what they spoke of, and how he had left her vexed.”
She frowned. “And ye simply believed him?”
“Nay,” her brother said, giving her a stern look. “But he did nae have anything to gain by being dishonest, and more importantly, Broch believes him, and I trust in yer husband.”
“I do, too,” she said hotly, but then she froze. God’s bones, none of her actions had shown her trust or her belief in Broch. She had shown him the opposite. She scrambled off the bed. “I have to go to him.”
