Page 34

The frosty night air bit at Broderick’s face as he perched atop the slate roof of Davina’s castle, motionless save for the slow clench of his jaw. Below, the glen lay in hush, the wind threading through the trees like a whispered warning. But it wasn’t the chill that made him shiver.

It was her voice.

“You’re not fooling me, Broderick MacDougal,” she’d said, sapphire eyes pinning him in place. “You’re not the rogue you pretend to be.”

The words had struck him like a blow, shattering his carefully built facade with alarming precision. He’d spent decades building the facade of a hardened rogue—worn it like armor. And yet, with one look, she’d seen through it all.

When she turned to leave, something primal in him had snapped. He hadn’t just wanted to stop her. He’d needed to—like drawing breath. He’d pulled her into his arms, kissed her with the desperation of a man clinging to life .

The memory of her lips lingered—intoxicating sweetness, as if savoring an aftertaste that refused to fade.

What was it about her that unraveled him? He longed to possess her, to make her his in every way—but when he saw her with Cailin…

A groan rumbled from his chest. He slammed his fist against the stone beside him. The pain that bloomed across his knuckles was grounding. Real.

He hadn’t meant to linger, to intrude on that private moment between mother and child. But when he saw her cradling her daughter, her face radiant with love and tenderness, he couldn’t look away.

She’d gutted him.

Davina and her wee bairn were everything he’d forsaken. Everything he’d convinced himself he didn’t need.

Family. Fatherhood. A future.

All sacrificed on the altar of vengeance.

Immortality had made him powerful. Dangerous. But what had it truly won him?

He gazed out over the moonlit land, jaw tightening.

Nothing that mattered.

The sight of Cailin, her tiny mouth drawing pure nourishment and love from her mother’s breast, had nearly brought him to his knees.

That was why he’d left. He couldn’t let her see him like that. Broken. Defeated by regret. If there was anything he could do for her and the angel she held in her arms, it was to ensure they were safe.

Now, sitting atop her castle, Broderick inclined his head, listening intently. The slow, steady breathing drifting up from the chamber below told him Forbes was finally asleep. This was a good distraction. It was time.

Like a shadow, Broderick dropped silently to the balcony below.

He eased the door open a crack, testing the hinges.

Silence. Davina’s household was well-kept, indeed.

Nary a sound, the hinges oiled and smooth.

He slipped into the guest room, moving as silently as a specter, his boots only a whisper across the wood floor.

Forbes lay sprawled on the bed, his chest rising and falling in the deep rhythm of sleep.

Broderick stared down at him, his hands curling into fists.

It would be so easy to tear the man’s throat out, to rid the world of his brutish arrogance.

But such an action would only cause more harm than good. Davina would pay the price.

Nay, there was another way.

Broderick leaned over the bed, his hands hovering just above Forbes’s temples. Closing his eyes, he pressed his index fingers lightly against the man’s skin, pushing his way into the vulnerable depths of his mind.

Memories flickered past Broderick’s vision like the pages of a book fluttering in the wind.

He saw glimpses of Forbes’s life, his relationships, and the way he ruled his clan—with an iron fist and little regard for kindness.

His plans for Davina were no surprise. He would beat her into submission, just as his father had done to his headstrong mother.

Women didn’t talk back. They didn’t challenge their husband.

Forbes saw nothing wrong with it—it was simply the way of things.

Broderick’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. Although the man was not as vile as he’d suspected, he was certainly not the man for Davina and Cailin. And he certainly didn’t deserve them.

But then, amidst the storm of brutality and arrogance, Broderick saw her.

A woman from Forbes’s clan, her face soft with adoration, her brown eyes lighting up every time Arthur entered a room. She was kind, attentive, and utterly devoted to him.

Broderick grinned. He had found it—the key to liberating Davina.

He withdrew from Forbes’s memories and began weaving his way into the man’s dreams. Aye, there he was, standing at the head of a long table, drinking ale and toasting his clan. He was celebrating his marriage to Davina, his chest puffed with pride.

Nay, this man was desperate for heirs yet loathed the type of relationship his parents had, which is why he had taken so long to find a wife. He was drawn to women like Davina due to familiarity but resisted for the same reason.

Broderick twisted the dream. Slowly, subtly, he replaced Davina with the sandy-brown-haired woman with brown, adoring eyes.

Arthur turned to his bride, confusion flickering across his face. “Mairi?”

She grinned at him, her cheeks flushed with happiness. “Aye, my sweet husband.”

Arthur blinked, glancing around the hall as if searching for someone. “Where is—”

“What is it, my love?” Mairi interrupted, tugging on his arm until he sat beside her.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, her lips brushing his ear.

“Is it shameful for me to admit that I want the festivities to end so we can…” Her words trailed off, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this night. ”

A flicker of desire crossed Arthur’s face. Her compliance, her eagerness—it was everything he wanted .

But Broderick wasn’t finished. He brought Davina back into the scene, placing her at the edge of the crowd like a seductive siren. She stood there, her sapphire eyes blazing with defiance, her lips curled into a taunting smile.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, his gaze darting between the two women.

Mairi tugged on his arm again, her voice soft and pleading. “Come, my love. Let us go to our marriage bed.”

Arthur hesitated for only a moment before turning back to Mairi. A slow smile spread across his face. “Aye, lass. Let us.”

Mairi blushed and grinned, taking his hand as they stood.

Broderick eased out of the dream, satisfaction curling through him. The seed had been planted. Forbes wouldn’t even realize it, but the idea had already taken hold. Davina wasn’t what he wanted—not truly.

Broderick stepped back from the bed, his work done. Without a sound, he slipped out the way he’d come, vanishing into the night like a phantom.

After Broderick prowled the village for a victim to feed, he strolled the surrounding forest until the morning silence was broken by the stirrings of the village.

The nights stretched longer as the season edged toward winter.

When the horizon tinged with pale light, he headed for his lair.

Dashing through the trees, he approached the cave—and halted several feet from the entrance.

He sighed.

Veronique.

Her sweet, youthful scent drifted on the bitter chill.

Shaking his head, he braced himself and stepped inside. The dark swallowed him, but he didn’t need light to see her. She stood there—topless—waiting for him .

He grumbled under his breath. “’Tis far too cold for ye tae be wanderin’ about half-naked.” He stalked deeper into the cave, his tone edged with threat. “And ye’re ignoring my wishes again. I told ye not tae come here, Veronique. Ever .”

She moved to block his path, her bare breasts jutting proudly toward him, the soft curves of her youth on full display. Her shawl and blouse hung from her elbows, and her hands settled on her hips, defiant.

He took in the sight with a weary glance and shook his head.

“I have been waiting for you,” she murmured in French.

“Did ye not give yerself time tae sleep?” he asked, annoyed. “Amice will be awake by now and needin’ yer help. Ye’ll be no good tae her if ye’re half-dead from exhaustion.”

“I rested,” she replied. “I rose early to meet you before—”

“Veronique.”

She stepped closer, her hands gliding up his chest and around his neck. She tried to draw him down to kiss her, pressing her body flush against his.

He pushed her away and tugged her blouse and shawl back into place.

“Veronique, ye need tae return tae the camp. Now.”

“ Pourquoi , Broderick?” she pleaded. She reached for him again, her voice trembling. “ Je t’aime, Broderick. Can you not see?”

He caught her wrists gently but firmly.

“Veronique, ye dinnae love me. This is just a passin’ infatuation. Ye need tae understand—”

“I understand you, Broderick. I embrace what you are. Will she? I am much more woman than that Davina. If she were truly a woman worth your heart, you would not have left her chamber.”

He grabbed Veronique’s wrist. “Back to the camp,” he growled, dragging her behind him.

“This is true, Broderick, and you know it is!” Veronique struggled against his grip. “She will never love you like I do! She will hate you once she finds out what you are!”

“Enough!” he thundered, the word cracking through the dawn-stilled air. She flinched into silence, her defiance momentarily extinguished.

The horizon glowed with the first threat of sunlight.

Snarling under his breath, Broderick yanked her blouse closed and swept her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “’Tis not the time tae argue, Veronique.”

With immortal speed, he raced her back through the trees, his boots barely touching the forest floor. Within moments, he reached the caravan, where he dropped her—none too gently—before the nearest wagon.

She landed with a gasp, scrambling to her feet, but he was already gone, vanished into the shadows.