Page 121

Tammus inclined his head. “But it’s a lass, so the estate still lacks an heir.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps now that you’re back, that’s something you can remedy.”

Ian’s smile deepened, some of the exhaustion lifting from his face. “She’s alive,” he said softly, wonder threading through his words. “And I have a daughter. What a rare blessing.” He resumed eating with renewed vigor, each bite fueled by newfound purpose. “When can we leave for Stewart Glen?”

Tammus resisted the urge to sigh. “On the morrow, if you’re fit for the journey.”

Ian grinned, determination sparking in his eyes. “I can hardly wait to see her again. She’s the whole reason I’ve had the will to go on.”

Tammus nodded, but inwardly, his heart sank beneath theweight of unspoken truths. Another three-day journey back to Stewart Glen—and this time, he would be the one delivering the cruelest blow of all.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Broderick stormed into the camp, his boots thumping against the frost-hardened earth, each step a thud of rising fury. The once lively Romani camp had quieted with the creeping cold of autumn, its colors dulled beneath the fading twilight. Campfires flickered low, casting trembling shadows over bundled figures hunched for warmth. Broderick passed them all without a glance—villager, Romani, it made no difference. His mind burned with singular purpose: Veronique.

The visions had plagued his restless sleep again—fragments of scenes, jagged like shards of broken glass, slicing through his thoughts. He still didn’t understand their origin, nor why they began, but one truth pulsed relentlessly in his chest: they were tied to Davina. Somehow, these cursed dreams allowed him glimpses of her peril.

And this time, what he had seen stoked a fire in his blood.

Davina, cornered in the kitchen, flames curling dangerously close. Her pale face stricken with fear. Flashes of Veronique’ssilhouette, a raised oil lamp gleaming in malicious intent, and then chaos—heat, smoke, terror. He hadn’t seen it all, but he’d seen enough. Veronique had placed Davina in mortal danger.

His jaw locked, a muscle ticking as he strode toward Amice’s caravan. Fury thundered through his limbs.

Amice sat hunched beside a dwindling fire, her frail hands trembling in her lap. The moment her eyes met his, she stiffened. Guilt shadowed her weathered face, and her gaze darted away as if the flames offered refuge from his glare.

“Where is she?” Broderick’s voice rasped, low and lethal.

Amice pressed her palms to her cheeks, her breath quickening. “Je ne sais pas,” she stammered, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “She is not here.”

Broderick took a measured step closer, his broad frame casting her in his looming shadow. “Amice,” he warned, the growl curling through his throat like a threat, “do not lie to me. I saw what she did. I saw th’ danger she put Davina in. Where is Veronique?”

Amice’s shoulders crumpled, her voice dropping to a broken whisper. “I do not know where she is,” she repeated, her gaze fixed on the cold ground beneath her feet. “S’il te plaît, Broderick,” she pleaded, voice trembling, “you must promise me you will not harm her.”

Broderick’s temper flared, but he forced himself to take a steadying breath, feeling the fire simmer beneath his ribs. “Ye have tae tell me what happened.”

“Promise me, Broderick!” Amice’s voice rose, tight and trembling with desperation. Tears spilled down her wrinkled cheeks as she stood, frail hands fisted at her sides. “She is my granddaughter, Broderick. I know she has done wrong, but she is all I have.” Her voice fractured, raw with anguish. “I cannotlose her.”

His hands balled into fists at his sides, tension coiled in every muscle. He looked away, jaw clenched so tight it ached, struggling to cage the storm raging inside him. He wanted to shout, to demand the truth, but the sight of Amice’s trembling, fragile form anchored him.

“I’ll tell you, Broderick,” Rosselyn said, her voice cutting through the tension like an axe. She stepped forward from the shadows, her expression grim and resolute.

“Non, Rosselyn, please,” Amice implored, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

Broderick’s gaze locked on Rosselyn, a spark of hope flickering amidst his fury. “Ye know what happened?”

Rosselyn nodded, steady and unflinching. “Veronique tried to poison Davina, and when we caught her, she tried to set a fire. She could have killed Davina and others if Nicabar and I hadn’t stopped her.”

Amice gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as if to trap the cry of horror that escaped.

But Rosselyn’s gaze never wavered. “I’m sorry, Amice,” she said softly, her tone heavy with sorrow yet firm. “But Veronique deserves whatever’s coming to her. What she did was unforgivable.”

Broderick’s fury roared back to life, hot and searing. He began pacing, small clouds of dust rising beneath his heels. “Where is she now? Does anyone know?” His gaze pinned Amice in place.

The old woman bowed her head, her voice no more than a quivering thread. “Do not ask me,mon fils. I cannot see past my heartache to divine where she is. I already fear the worst.”

Broderick halted before Nicabar, who stood sentinel beside Rosselyn, stoic and watchful. “What about the tribe?” Broderickasked, his tone rough as gravel. “Have they decided when they’re movin’ on?”

Nicabar inclined his head. “There has been talk about the cold nights. Many are anxious to leave. Two, maybe three days.”

Broderick considered this, the gears of strategy grinding in his mind. “I’ll be stayin’ behind at the castle,” he declared, voice hard with resolve. “If the tribe moves on before Veronique returns, then I will see tae her.”