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Amice shook her head, her expression heavy with doubt. “Non, mon fils. There, you are wrong.”

She returned to searching her basket, her gnarled fingers moving with restless precision.

The sound of music drifted toward them, lilting and warm. It drew Broderick’s attention to the bonfire at the center of the camp. A slow, sweet melody floated through the air, and he saw Rosselyn and Nicabar dancing, the firelight casting their figures in a golden glow, like silhouettes carved from flame.

Broderick lingered for a moment, watching as Nicabar twirled Rosselyn before pulling her close, his grin wide and infectious. When Nicabar caught sight of him, he waved Broderick over with a laugh.

“Mi hermano!” Nicabar called, his voice bright with joy. “Come, come! I would have you meet my future wife!”

Broderick’s brows shot up. “Wife?”

Amice nodded, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Broderick kissed her furrowed brow. “All will be well, my friend.” He patted her gently, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance, then strode to the bonfire where villagers danced, their shadows weaving between the firelight and darkness.

“What is this about a wife?” Broderick asked with a crooked grin as he and Nicabar clasped forearms in greeting.

“You think you are the only one permitted to be happy?”Nicabar teased, his grin wide.

Broderick rolled his eyes, though the words stirred a hollow ache within him.Happywasn’t exactly how he’d describe his tangled arrangement with Davina. Still, he offered a polite smile. “Congratulations,” he said, though unease coiled tight in his chest, the memory of his dream gnawing at him like a festering wound. “Tell me—how has Davina taken the news?”

Rosselyn’s smile faltered, the light in her eyes dimming, and sorrow filled the air around her like a shroud. She bowed her head, her voice tight with unshed tears. “She…she didn’t take it well,” she admitted, her voice trembling like a brittle leaf in the wind. “She made my mither and I leave.”

“I’m sorry.” Broderick frowned, concern shadowing his features. “Is she all right? Areyouall right?”

Rosselyn hesitated, her unease palpable. “Thanks to Nicabar, we are fine. As for Davina, I don’t know, but what’s done is done. I have a new life now.” She clung to Nicabar, as if drawing strength from his solid presence. “Will you be staying in Stewart Glen?”

“Only for a few days,” Broderick replied, keeping his tone neutral. “I dinnae think Davina wants me around anymore, either.”

With that, he bid them good night and turned from the camp, the weight of unanswered questions heavy on his heart.

When Broderick reached the castle, the gates creaked open at his approach. “Lord MacDougal,” the guards greeted him, their voices laced with deference.

God’s blood, he hadn’t been called that in decades. The title settled uneasily on his shoulders, like a cloak he’d long since outgrown. Memories clawed at him, but he shoved them aside as he entered the castle and ascended the stone steps to hischamber.

The scent of rose oil lingered in the air, bittersweet and haunting. It clung to the disheveled sheets, a ghost of Davina’s presence. His gaze drifted to the nursery door that connected their rooms.

He rapped his knuckles lightly against the wood.

From the other side, he heard her hurried footsteps, followed by the faint snick of the lock turning.

Brows furrowing, he strode into the hallway and around to the main door of her chamber. Just as he reached for the handle, he heard the lock click into place.

A low growl fluttered up his throat.

Wide-eyed, Davina stood in the middle of her room, nibbling on her thumbnail. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, each beat sounding louder than the last. She stared at the door, willing it to remain closed, even though she knew it wouldn’t hold.

“Davina,” came Broderick’s deep, commanding voice from the other side. “Open the door.”

She didn’t move, her breath catching in her throat. Her pulse galloped wildly, and all she could hear was the deafening rush of blood in her ears.

The sound of metal clinking against metal reached her, and her stomach twisted.Damn Uncle Tammus!Of course, Broderick had a key. But it didn’t seem to work—not at first. She heard him curse softly under his breath, then the scrape of the key trying again.

This time, the lock turned with an audible click.

Bloody hell!

She bolted for the nursery door.