Page 13

Once Broderick was out of sight of the Romani camp, his pace quickened. He streaked through the village shadows unseen, bypassing every drunken reveler and fire-lit alley. Only the road to the castle held his focus now. The forest flanked either side—tall, black silhouettes etched in moonlight.

He moved like mist through the underbrush, every footfall soundless. His senses stretched out—listening, tasting, searching. Then, a familiar scent drifted to him on the breeze.

Rose oil.

And beneath it… her . That rich, heady warmth that had once intoxicated him beyond reason.

He dropped low behind a thicket of gorse, muscles coiled.

Davina strode up the road, her cloak pulled tight at the throat. The moonlight kissed the waves of her cinnamon hair, turning them to molten copper to his immortal gaze. His breath caught.

Desire hit him like a war hammer. A growl rumbled in his chest.

She paused, head turning. Narrowed, searching eyes scanned the dark.

Satisfaction curled his lips as she quickened her pace.

He slipped ahead like a whisper on the wind, flying to the bend in the road. Timing his steps with hers, he emerged with practiced ease from behind a tree.

Davina halted, sapphire eyes wide. Her breath stuttered. He heard the rush of her pulse—fast, bright, sweet.

And then, her thought reached him, brittle and saturated with need.

“Broderick.”

His cock twitched.

“Eve’nin’, Davina,” he purred. “Bit reckless, don’t ye think? Walkin’ alone at night, temptin’ the shadows.” His eyes roamed her frame, drinking her in like a starving man. “There’s all manner o’ beasts lurkin’ about, hungry for easy prey.”

Davina’s plump lips—parted in surprise—puckered into annoyance and she huffed. “Well, thank you for the warning, gallant Gypsy, but I believe I can take care of myself.” She sidestepped him and continued her determined pace, her hood falling to her shoulders.

A grin split his mouth wide, and he followed, his long legs easily matching her stride.

Davina cast an irritated glance at him as he reached her side. “Honestly, Broderick, I cannot spare the distraction.” But then she halted abruptly and turned to him, a crease forming between her brows. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Broderick shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back under his cloak. “Oh, just passin’ through. ’Tis what Gypsies do.” He cocked an eyebrow, a hint of amusement tugged the corner of his mouth.

She shook her head like she could fling away the chaos of his presence. “I don’t have time for this.” She clutched her cloak tighter around her throat and marched on. “Make haste, girl! Uncle Tammus could be interrogating the household right now about where my damn husband is.”

A surge of heat flooded Broderick’s chest—protective and unexpected. “Wait. Davina.” His stride closed the gap between them, and he reached out to gently tug her elbow. “Does yer husband still mistreat ye?”

She jerked her arm free, her spine stiffening. A flush colored her cheeks, this time from something tangled between shame and anger. “The brief encounter we had does not give you the right to ask such inappropriate questions, sir.”

Her eyes darted to the woods, as if the shadows themselves might overhear. She stepped closer, voice a low hiss. “ Not that it is any business of yours, but my husband died in the Battle of Flodden.”

She straightened and strode away again.

Aye, that war had left no shortage of grief in its wake. He followed, thoughts darkening. “I’ll be honest wi’ ye. I’m nay sorry for yer loss.”

“Nor am I.”

The confession was a surprise—barbed, bare, and true. He respected it.

He caught up again and leaned close with conspiracy. “So, if he’s dead,” he whispered, “why are ye afraid yer uncle will interrogate yer household about where he is?”

Her breath caught, her sapphire eyes snapping back to his. Panic flickered across her face before she masked it, her mental walls slamming into place. Impressive. She was better at guarding her thoughts than most, but not enough to keep him from catching glimpses of her fear.

Then she threw her hands up and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Bloody hell, I forgot how skilled you are at reading minds. For your information, I was forced to marry again. Surely, you know that no woman can live without the capable and overbearing presence of a man telling her what to do.”

“Aye, well, I can think o’ worse things than bein’ tied tae a bonnie lass like yerself.”

Davina scoffed and brushed past him with a toss of her cloak. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must hasten to get home.”

“Where is he then?” Broderick asked, staying put and crossing his arms. “Yer husband. Is he gone often?” He suppressed a grin as she stormed back to get in his face.

Her sapphire eyes blazed with fury. “ That is none of your business.” She turned and pushed on without him, then returned in a flurry. “If you must know, aye. He’s a very busy man.” She nodded firmly, as if that settled the matter, and whirled away from him.

Before she took another step, he snaked an arm around her waist and hauled her back against him.

She gasped.

Their eyes met—sapphire and emerald—and the space between them vanished.

A low growl rolled from Broderick’s chest as her soft curves molded to him, the swell of her breasts pressed warm against his chest. His hand lifted, brushing a strand of cinnamon hair from her face, fingers lingering along her cheek.

She trembled at his touch, her lips parting, her heartbeat thundering in his ears.

He drank in her scent—rose oil, warm skin, the sweet musk of desire blooming beneath it .

“Then mayhap ye need someone tae warm yer bed on those cold, lonely nights,” he murmured, voice thick and molten.

But a sudden flash—vivid and unwelcome—intruded.

A ruddy-faced man. Davina’s memory.

Broderick stiffened as the image burned through his senses, and she struggled in his arms.

“Christ’s blood, don’t you men ever use copper bed warmers?” She shoved out of his embrace, and with a growl of frustration, she turned and stormed up the road.

“Copper… What?” Broderick blinked, momentarily stunned. Then his gaze dropped to her retreating form. The sway of her hips—infuriating and intoxicating. Seducing this woman was proving far more difficult than expected. But he’d be damned if he let her walk away now.

With a burst of immortal speed, he darted forward and swept her into his arms once more.

This time, he let his compulsion unfurl gently—like a mist creeping through the cracks. A subtle pressure brushed her mind, inviting rather than overpowering.

She gasped, tension flaring in her muscles. Her lashes fluttered, lips parting slightly as her fingers curled against his chest.

For a heartbeat, he had her.

Then she blinked hard and jerked back, awareness flashing across her features.

“What… What are you doing?” Her cheeks flushed, but her voice remained steady. She braced herself against him, her spine steel straight.

Broderick’s brow furrowed. Most mortals melted under his influence. Their thoughts bent like reeds in wind. But not Davina .

She’d felt it—acknowledged it—and shoved it off like a warrior batting away an enemy’s sword.

He stared at her with new interest. “Ye’ve got a strong will, lass,” he murmured, head tilting. A faint lift of his lips betrayed his surprise. “Blockin’ me out like that. Impressive.”

Her mouth pressed into a tight line, eyes like polished gems glinting with fire. “And yet you still pry,” she said through clenched teeth. “Whatever brought you here, Broderick, I assure you—it’s a waste of time. I have no interest in reliving the past.”

“Is that so?” he whispered, leaning close. His breath teased the shell of her ear. “ Yer heartbeat and yer thoughts tell a different tale, ” his thoughts intruded.

She stiffened, her sapphire eyes narrowing. “Get out of my head.”

Instead of trying to compel her again, Broderick let his gaze linger on her lips, his expression softening.

The lass didn’t realize how much power she held in that resistance of hers.

He wasn’t used to this—being unable to bend a mortal’s will to his own.

It intrigued him, infuriated him, and yet… it made him want her all the more.

Still, he couldn’t resist testing her resolve. He brushed his lips over her cheek, and she shuddered in his arms. His voice dropped to a low murmur. “Say the word, lass,” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck. “And I’ll make ye forget every man but me.”

For a moment, she sighed and leaned into him. But then, she shoved against his chest, planting her feet firm on the ground. “What happened between us was a mistake.” Though her cheeks flushed a lovely pink that crept to the tips of her ears, she stood resolute. “And it will never happen again.”

Davina stiffened, clenched her hands against his chest and shoved. Broderick let her go, and she staggered back, surprised she’d broken free. With another insolent huff, she turned on her heel and stormed toward the castle with quick, determined strides.

Broderick’s grin widened. “Ye ken where tae find me if ye change yer mind. I hear the inn here is lovely.”

Davina paused, pivoted slowly, and her lips curved into a faint, challenging smile. “Don’t hold your breath, sir Gypsy. You’ll be waiting a long time.”

As she turned and hurried up the road, Broderick chuckled and adjusted his tightened breeches. “We’ll see about that, lass,” he murmured rough with promise.

He stood a moment longer, watching her retreating figure disappear around the next bend. Then, with a flip of his cloak, he strolled into the forest.

∞∞∞

Dust billowed behind Davina as she sprinted across the courtyard. She reached the stables at full tilt and shoved the door open, the tang of hay and horses hitting her in a wave of warmth and sweat. A bitter taste coated her tongue—grit and dread.