Highland Brides 04 - Lion Heart (16 page)

C
olin knew something was wrong.

It wasn’t like Broc just to show up and throw stones at his window. In fact, he didn’t think either of them had done any such thing since they had been children together. He hurried down the stairs and opened the door, allowing Broc entrance. He looked weary and apprehensive, almost as though he regretted his visit.

“Seana’s gone after ale. So tell me quickly, what brings you here so late, my friend?”

Broc scraped his boots on the doorsill before entering, leaving behind a thick sheet of peat and mud. “I heard the rumors upon my return… about the Sassenach wench gone missing. I came to see what you knew.”

Broc closed the door behind him, and Colin led the way into the hall, talking as he went. “Not verra much,” he said. “She’s a distant cousin of Piers, though it seems he didn’t even realize she was coming. He was furious she crossed the border with such inadequate escort.”

The restrained anger in Broc’s voice was unmistakable. “I, too, wondered why the bluidy hell they sent a woman essentially alone and unprotected!”

Colin lifted his brows at the fervent declaration. “Apparently her father feared Montgomerie would turn down his request to take them into his wardship and didn’t wish to give Piers the opportunity. He sent the girl along with her brother, escorted by his brother-in-law and three men in hopes that he would see her and not be able to send her away. Come, sit down,” he commanded his friend.

Broc hesitated, and Colin turned to face him. “Will Seana blast my arse?”

Colin chuckled with genuine good humor. “Now you think to ask?” He reached out and slapped Broc upon the back. “Come in and stay a while.” Without another word, he led the way to the high table and took his seat, offering Broc the one next to him.

“So how is wedded life?”

Colin’s grin widened. “I wouldn’t know yet—thanks to missing wenches and ill-mannered friends.”

Broc seemed to sober at that remark.

“I was only jesting,” Colin assured him.

Broc nodded. It was unlike him to be so staid, and Colin leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows upon the table as he regarded his friend.

“I wouldn’t have come—”

“What is it, Broc?”

“I canna say precisely, and it would serve us both better if ye dinna ask.”

Colin gave him a sober look. “I see.”

Broc hadn’t intended to reveal even that much, but he trusted Colin without fail. Still, considering that his sister was wed to Montgomerie, he didn’t wish to put his best friend in the awkward position of knowing more than he should.

Colin’s brows collided. “Och, I’ve known you long enough to know there is something you need from me so dinna beat about the bush. What is it?”

This wasn’t going at all as Broc had intended, but Colin was right. Out of respect, Broc came directly to the point. “What’s do you know of the brother?” he asked, eyeing the door to be sure no one entered the hall whilst they spoke.

For an instant, Colin’s expression remained pensive. And then he began. “There are at least two witnesses who claim a giant, fair-haired”—his eyes narrowed as he regarded Broc more closely, obviously coming to the right conclusion because he averted his eyes an instant before saying, “They say he was attacked by one of our own.”

Broc remained collected under Colin’s careful scrutiny and even managed a smile. “Giant, eh?”

“Aye.” Colin’s tone remained sober. “They claim he accosted them without provocation, murdered two men, one of them being the woman’s half-brother, and then took the girl and fled with his knife pressed to her throat.”

Broc had little respect for liars and less for those too craven to defend their fellows. His tone was full of contempt when he spoke. “Two witnesses, ye say?” He lifted a brow. “Two men against one?”

“Against a giant,” Colin reminded him. “And he threatened to kill her if they followed.”

“Damned chicken-hearted bastards!”

“Aye,” Colin agreed, and seemed suddenly thoughtful.

“If she had been my mistress, I would have plucked out the man’s tongue,” Broc said. “He never would have had a chance to have his knife at her throat in the first place!” Anger surged through him.

He twined his fingers together between his knees and stared down at the floor, trying to compose himself. Though he had the most overwhelming urge to defend himself, to tell Colin why he had done what he’d done, it was in no one’s best interest for him to confess right now—not Colin’s, not Seana’s, not his own, and most assuredly not Elizabet’s.

What the hell was he going to do?

At the instant, he felt the weight of his deception bearing down upon him. It was nearly as heavy as his obligation to Elizabet.

He shook his head, clenching his jaw in torment.

Never in his life had he found himself so torn. The lines had always been so clearly drawn for him—right was right, wrong was wrong, and his loyalty lay solely with his clan. This time, he could not even see the forest for the trees. No matter what choice he made, someone innocent was bound to suffer. God’s truth, if he could have sacrificed himself and no one else, he would do so without hesitation.

But that wasn’t the case.

If he turned himself in, he would place Elizabet in danger. After all, who would protect her and who would believe him? Certainly not Piers against the word of two witnesses. Not even Elizabet, for he had lied to her about her brother. If he revealed himself to Colin, then Colin would be forced to betray either his sister or his best friend. If he swore Seana to secrecy, he would be asking her to break faith with her husband. If he told Iain, he would oblige Iain to side with him against every other clan in the region—and Iain would do so, but Broc couldn’t allow it.

No matter how he looked at it, he felt completely alone. And the only thing he knew of a certain was that he would never forgive himself if he allowed any harm to come to Elizabet.

She trusted him… as Colin did… as Iain did.

Colin’s tone was grave when he spoke. “Is there aught you wish to share with me, Broc?”

Broc shook his head, his gut wrenching. He couldn’t even look Colin in the eyes. “I just need time,” he said, and the simple statement said far more than Broc should have provided.

Silence fell between them—a long impenetrable silence. Colin seemed to understand precisely what Broc could not say. When Broc peered again into his friend’s eyes, they were sullen and distressed.

Seana came into the room just then, bearing a tray with beverages for the three of them. Along with the ale, she brought bread and cheese to snack on. With a heartwarming smile for her husband and another for Broc, she placed the tray on the table between them. Neither of them responded, with the mood between them as morose at it was.

She placed her hands upon her hips. “The two of you look as though you’ve been sentenced to death! What could be so wrong?”

She looked from one to the other, waiting for an explanation.

“Broc isn’t staying,” Colin told her, rising from his seat at the table. “He merely came to wish us well.”

Seana blinked in surprise. “But he only just arrived!”

Broc stood to go. He understood what Colin was telling him without having to hear it spoken. Years of friendship had given them a like mind. He didn’t want Seana involved.

He and Colin shared a glance, and then Colin began to gather the bread and cheese from the tray. While Seana wasn’t watching, he set the victuals within a napkin and wrapped it neatly, then came around the table to stand beside his wife.

“’Tis late, Seana,” Broc explained. “I simply hadna the opportunity to speak with you after the wedding and wanted to wish you well together.”

Seana smiled, but he could tell she didn’t quite believe him, because she cast her husband a puzzled glance. She turned again to Broc. “I have much to thank you for, Broc. If it weren’t for you, I’d never have found Colin.”

Broc stepped forward to embrace her hastily. “Ye give me far too much credit, lass.” He bent to place a chaste kiss high on her cheek. “Both of you always knew where the other was; you simply had to rediscover each other again, and you did that all by yourselves.”

Seana tilted him a warm look. “Well, I thank you even so. You cannot imagine how much your friendship has always meant to me.”

Broc winked at her. He did understand, far more than she realized, from the first instant when she’d looked up at him so reverently after he’d dried her tears as a child. Every day thereafter that she’d looked at him, he’d spied the gratitude in her eyes. And it was gratitude that had nearly convinced her she should become his wife. He saw all that and more in her sweet face, and he hadn’t ever acknowledged her affection, because he hadn’t wished her to feel she owed him anything at all. It took more than gratitude to make a good match, and he’d wanted more for Seana than to have her spend her entire life trying to repay him for a simple kindness. He had done no more than soothe a little girl’s hurt feelings.

“And yours to me,” he told her, tears stinging his eyes. He didn’t know why, but the moment touched him more than he could say. He turned then to Colin, quashing his unruly emotions. God’s teeth, he felt like a weepy wench at the instant. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

“For what?” Seana asked him, obviously confused by their fragmented discourse.

“For nothing,” Colin replied at once, and then to Broc he added, “We’ve known each-other far too long, my friend.”

Broc placed his hands upon his hips, preparing to take his leave. “Aye, that we have.”

Seana watched them more curiously yet, saying nothing. Broc was keenly aware of her regard. She was smart, he knew, and he didn’t want her to ascertain what they were speaking of. Still he had to ask, “Have you returned to the hut, Seana?” He tried to sound casual.

“Nay,” she answered, and sighed. “I have not. It brings back too many memories as yet.”

Broc nodded, understanding. Relief washed through him. “I know what you mean, lass. Mayhap ’tis a good thing for you to stay away from there for a while.” He leveled a look at Colin, knowing his friend would understand what he was trying to say.

Seana’s brows knit. “Mayhap so.” She lifted her chin as she turned to regard her husband with narrowed eyes.

Colin slid an arm around her shoulders. “She has no reason to return there at all.”

Seana said nothing, merely reached up to grasp her husband’s hand, and studied them both.

Broc nodded then and turned to go. “I hope to see the two of you verra soon.”

“’And I you,” Colin replied.

Seana’s tone was full of concern. “Be careful, Broc,” she said, reaching out to grasp him by the arm.

He turned and winked at her. “I’m a big boy, lass. Dinna fret over me.”

“Oh, and Broc,” Colin interjected then.

Broc tossed his chin up in reply.

“We’ll be searching again tomorrow if you wish to join us.”

For an instant, Broc was flustered by the suggestion. He was momentarily unsure whether Colin truly had understood the point of their discourse. “I may,” he relented, but eyed his friend thoughtfully.

Colin held his gaze. “I believe they intend to use her hound tomorrow.”

Broc knit his brows. “Her hound?”

Colin leveled him a significant look. “Aye, someone suggested mayhap the dog’s nose would find her mistress sooner than our eyes.”

Broc thought about that bit of information. “It makes a lot of sense,” he said with a nod of comprehension. “Whoever suggested that is a wily bastard.”

Colin nodded soberly. “I suggested it.”

Broc smiled at him. “Figures.”

Colin smiled back. “We’ll be heading out about noon, I think… if you should care to join us.”

All the while, Seana watched them, her expression growing more curious yet. Broc determined it was best to leave before they inadvertently gave something away. As it was, he had involved Colin far more than he’d intended to, far more than his conscience allowed. Guilt pricked at him.

Broc turned to go, and Colin followed him out, leaving Seana staring pensively after them.

“I owe,” Colin murmured at Broc’s back.

“You owe me nothing,” Broc assured him, without turning. They walked out the door.

“Aye, but I do,” Colin argued, once they were outside. And then he added, “You saved my life once, Broc.”

“I did no less than any friend would have done.”

Colin nodded. “I have no notion what has happened, but I do know you, my friend, and I know you better than to think you would attack an innocent girl.”

Broc’s shoulders tensed. “I would never.”

“I realize that,” Colin acknowledged. “But I canna promise you anything more than a little time.”

Broc halted abruptly and turned to face him, his gut churning. “I didna ask ye for even that, Colin.”

Colin smacked him on the arm. “You dinna have to.” He handed Broc the cloth filled with food. “Dinna say anything more. The less I know, the better. Just go.”

“Thank you, Colin.”

“I know you would do the same for me” was all Colin said.

Broc turned one last time to go. “Without question.”

“Oh, and by the by,” Colin added. Broc cast him a glance but kept walking. “I know where you can find a lonely hound tonight.” Broc turned to face him but kept walking—backward, toward the woods. He clutched the food for Elizabet tightly in his hand, lest it spill. “Montgomerie’s stables,” Colin disclosed. “That is… should you find yourself lonely for Merry.”

Broc swallowed his response, so great were his emotions. He couldn’t speak even to thank Colin. No man had ever been blessed with truer friends—and he repaid them all by endangering them by his duplicity.

Without a word, he turned again and bounded into the woods.