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Rosselyn’s face darkened at the name, her eyes flashing with old fury. “You were protecting me,” she said, her tone quiet but fierce. “I understand.” She hesitated, then added, “Davina…” Her voice faltered, her gaze dropping as though she wrestled with a truth still unspoken.

Davina’s eyes widened. “Oh, Saints. You know about that,too?”

Rosselyn half shrugged, her expression tight with unspoken understanding.

Plagued with guilt, Davina wondered how many others had guessed if Rosselyn had pieced it together so easily.

Rosselyn’s eyes suddenly widened, her breath catching. “Cailin? She’s…” Her gaze darted toward the door leading to Broderick’s new bedchamber.

“Shhh!” Davina snatched Rosselyn’s pointing finger and pressed it down, then cupped her lips close to her friend’s ear. “I’m not certain,” she whispered. “But the timing was right.”

Rosselyn’s lips parted in silent shock, but before she could speak, a hard knock at the door startled them both.

“Davina?” Tammus called gruffly from the hall. “Broderick’s done signing the papers. It’s time.”

Heat rushed to Davina’s cheeks. Her fists curled at her sides, her stomach pitching violently. “Aye,” she answered, her voice rough with nerves. “I’m coming.”

Rosselyn squeezed her arm, her grip reassuring and steady. “You’ll be fine,” she said with quiet conviction.

Davina swallowed hard, doubt gnawing at her resolve. “I’m not so certain. Broderick didn’t marry me because he loves me, Rosselyn.” Her voice faltered, but she forced herself to finish the confession. “Having me in his bed was part of our agreement.” There. She had finally spoken the truth aloud.

“You mean with the suitors?” Rosselyn asked, her brow furrowed.

Davina nodded, her heart a tangled knot.

“Oh, posh!” Rosselyn huffed, waving away her concern. “Trust me when I say that man is hopelessly in love with you. He might not admit it, but it’s written all over his face. Why else would hehave made that his price?”

Davina exhaled a shaky breath, her heart twisting painfully. “I don’t know if I believe that.”

“Then see for yourself,” Rosselyn urged, stepping back with a knowing smile. “And I’d wager you’ll have the best night of your life in that man’s bed.”

Despite herself, Davina suppressed a grin and gave a small nod. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she crossed the room. Her bare feet padded over the wooden floorboards as she stepped into the nursery, her heartbeat thudding louder with every step. Cailin’s cradle sat empty, a small comfort amidst her mounting nerves as she approached the adjoining door.

Her fingers hovered on the latch, trembling with hesitation. For one breathless moment, she considered retreating, running as Rosselyn had teasingly suggested. She glanced over her shoulder, but Rosselyn waved her forward with both hands, her expression both encouraging and insistent.

Davina inhaled through her nose, gathering the last shreds of her courage, and pushed the door open.

Chapter Eighteen

Broderick unhooked his sporran and set it on the desk in the corner. With quick, practiced movements, he unfastened the brass buttons of his charcoal gray doublet. The faint scuff of leather boots shifting on the wooden floor hissed in the chamber as he tossed the garment onto the chair by the hearth. Moonlight filtered through the large, latticed window, scattering fragmented beams across the canopy bed, casting an air of enchantment over the consummation to come. He adjusted himself, his cock stiffening with urgent need beneath the confines of his breeches. The fire crackled softly before him, its warmth brushing his face as he reached for the laces of his boots. He was halfway through tugging one free when her scent reached him.

Roses. The faint musk of her skin. The sweetness of her blood.

His hand froze, and he drew in a deeper breath, his chest rising as the intoxicating scent coiled through him like aforbidden draught. He caught the edge of her apprehension, the tremor of her fear—a perilous combination that stoked the Hunger and his predatory nature until his carefully constructed restraint began to splinter.

Slowly, he turned.

She stood just inside the doorway, half-shadowed by the flickering firelight. The lace-trimmed hem of her nightdress brushed her toes, peeking out like pale petals beneath the fabric. The delicate embroidery along the neckline caught his gaze, though it didn’t hold there long. His eyes swept lower, and his breath caught. Her nipples, taut beneath the thin fabric, pressed forward as though issuing a silent invitation—or a cruel taunt.

His mouth watered, and before he could command himself otherwise, his incisors extended, piercing and aching.

Heat surged through him, his bloodlust and desire knotting together into something perilous and consuming. He ground his jaw, willing his fangs to retract, but not before her soft gasp pierced the heavy air.

She’d seen it. The silver gleam in his eyes.

Broderick dragged his gaze away from her, his throat tight, and busied himself with pulling off his boots. The leather resisted as if mocking him, and he cursed low under his breath. Anything to fix his focus on mundane tasks and not on the woman standing across the room. The woman who was now hiswife. The woman whose body, scent, and very presence threatened to unmake him.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until she broke it.