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The observation tower of the castle offered an unparalleled view of the late-night sky, and tonight, the heavens had unveiled themselves in all their glory.

Not a single cloud marred the expanse of deep, endless black, and the stars glittered like scattered jewels, their light so bright it set the world aglow.

Davina directed her smile at Finlay. “You know the stars better than I do. Tell me something intriguing about them.”

Finlay chuckled, the sound deep and pleasant.

“Very well.” He pointed toward the east, to where a trio of stars glimmered in a perfect line.

“There is Orion’s Belt, as you know. But did you also know the Egyptians believed the pyramids were aligned to mimic the stars of that constellation?

They thought it would guide their souls to the afterlife. ”

Davina turned to him, her brow lifting in surprise. “I didn’t know that about the pyramids. How fascinating.” Her eyes gleamed with curiosity, and Finlay grinned at her, clearly pleased to have piqued her interest .

“And there,” he continued, gesturing to a cluster of faint stars near Orion, “is the Pleiades. They’re said to be the Seven Sisters, chased endlessly by Orion across the heavens. In some stories, the gods turned them into stars to save them from his pursuit.”

Davina tilted her head, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. “Saved, but forever running. How tragic. Do you think Orion ever tires of the chase? Or maybe that is another tale they misrepresented.”

Finlay shrugged lightly, his gaze lingering on her rather than the sky. “Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s not the destination that matters, but the pursuit itself.”

His words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Davina felt her smile fade, a flutter of unease stirring in her chest. She shifted her gaze back to the stars, the weight of his attention pressing against her conscience. She suddenly wished she’d worn a heavier cloak.

Leaning against the cold stone railing, she drew in a breath, her exhale misting in the crisp November air. She tipped her head back, her eyes tracing the constellations above. “How lucky we are the sky is so clear tonight. It’s beautiful,” she whispered a touch wistful.

Finlay stood just a breath too close, his warmth a shield against the chill. But he wasn’t looking at the stars. His gaze remained fixed on her, his expression gentle yet full of quiet intent.

“Aye,” he murmured richly. “You are.”

She turned to him, and before she could speak, he leaned in. His hand brushed her cheek, his fingertips surprisingly soft against her chilled skin. Then he dipped his head, and his lips met hers.

The kiss was gentle, sweet, and unhurried. Finlay’s lips were warm, his touch tender. For a moment, Davina allowed herself to sink into it, to let the warmth of the moment wash over her.

But something was missing.

There was no fire.

No scorching heat coursing through her veins, no breathless anticipation. Finlay’s kiss was lovely—perfect, even. But it wasn’t Broderick.

Her treacherous mind betrayed her, conjuring images of Broderick’s roguish smile, the way his lips curved with mischief and danger all at once. His touch had set her ablaze, igniting something wild and untamed within her. Finlay’s kiss, though sincere, lacked that spark.

Finlay pulled back slightly, his hand still cradling her face.

His eyes searched hers, full of affection and hope.

“Davina,” he said, dropping to one knee before her.

“You are unlike any woman I have ever met. Your wit, your strength, your kindness… I am utterly captivated by you. I know I cannot compare to the wild tales of romance or the heroes of the stars, but I promise you this—I will make you happy. I will honor you, respect you, adore you. If you are agreeable… Davina, will you grant me the pleasure of being my wife?”

Davina’s breath caught, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. Finlay’s words were sincere, his devotion clear. He was everything she could hope for in a husband—kind, intelligent, and steady.

And yet…

Her thoughts strayed once more to Broderick. To his fiery gaze, the way he could unravel her defenses with a single, smoldering look. But Broderick wasn’t the marrying type. He’d made that clear. She couldn’t pin her hopes on a man who would never see her as more than a fleeting temptation .

Finlay was her future.

She smiled softly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Aye…I would be honored to have you as my husband.”

Relief and joy lit up his face, and he rose, pulling her into his arms and kissing her again—this time with more passion, more fervor. But even as Davina responded, her chest was a cavern. Her head told her this was the right choice, but her heart dropped into the abyss.

When they broke apart, Finlay grinned. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”

Davina forced a smile. “I’m glad.” She laid her head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her protectively.

What other choice did she have? Marry MacLeod? She shuddered.

Finlay pulled back from their embrace and frowned. “You’re shivering. Are you cold?”

She seized the excuse gratefully. “Aye, just a bit. It’s been a long day, and I’m feeling rather tired. Would you mind if I retired for the evening?”

“Of course not,” he said quickly, taking her hand and guiding her back toward the stairs. “Come, I’ll walk you down.”

As they reached the top of the stairs, a flicker of movement caught Davina’s eye. She paused, her breath hitching.

On the rooftop across the way, a shadow shifted—a man-shaped shadow, watching, waiting.

The flickering torchlight cast a brief gleam across auburn hair and piercing, familiar eyes burning with intensity.

She blinked and leaned over the rail by the stairs.

It was gone in an instant, swallowed by the darkness.

“Davina?” Finlay asked, his brow creasing.

She forced a smile. “Coming.”

∞∞ ∞

The room was still, save for the soft, steady breathing of Finlay McIntosh. Moonlight filtered through the narrow window, painting the chamber in shades of silver and shadow.

Broderick stood over the bed, fists clenched at his sides, standing in the same position he stood two nights before where Forbes had once lay beneath his glare. His jaw was tight, teeth grinding as he fought the storm of emotions roiling within as he now glared down at the young lad.

He closed his eyes, but the memory heightened in the darkness.

Davina.

Kissing him.

The observation deck had been cloaked in night, but Broderick had seen it all too clearly from his vantage on the rooftop under his immortal gaze.

Her face, upturned and glowing in the moonlight, lips parting as they met Finlay’s.

Then the lad had fallen to one knee, his voice carrying faintly through the brittle night air.

Davina, will you grant me the pleasure…

Broderick had crouched low in the shadows, every muscle in his body drawn taut as a bowstring, waiting for her answer.

And then she’d said it.

“Aye.”

One word. Anything else she said after her acceptance of the proposal didn’t matter. That one word had pierced him like a dagger to the heart. He’d slumped back against the cold stone, squeezing his eyes shut, as though darkness could shield him from the cruel reality.

The bed creaked softly as Finlay shifted in his sleep. Broderick opened his eyes, his gaze smoldering with a fire that could have set the very air aflame. Finlay slept on, blissfully unaware of the predator standing over him.

Broderick could have left the castle hours ago. He could have run into the woods, let the beast inside him rage free beneath the canopy of the forest.

But he needed to be sure.

A handshake had told him Finlay was kind, respectful, perhaps even worthy. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to go deeper. To know the man’s soul. To ensure the lad’s intentions for Davina were pure and it wasn’t all a surface act.

Broderick reached out, his fingers hovering over Finlay’s temples. His hand trembled—not from fear, but from the strain of keeping his fury bridled.

Then, his fingers brushed the lad’s skin.

A rush of images flooded Broderick’s mind.

Finlay as a boy, chasing his younger sister through sun-drenched fields, laughter bubbling from his chest. Finlay as a young man, standing resolute before his father, swearing to bring pride to the family name.

Finlay at court, expression guarded yet steadfast, navigating the venomous currents of Scottish politics without surrendering his principles.

Finlay building his empire—working tirelessly, treating his workers with fairness, earning the respect of his peers.

And then, Finlay meeting Davina. Seeing her smile for the first time, hearing her laugh, marveling at her intelligence and wit. The way his heart had leapt when she’d laughed. The way it had soared when she’d said yes tonight.

His intentions were clear, his affections genuine. He wanted Davina as his wife, not just because of her holdings or her wool business, but because he admired her. Respected her. Desired her.

Broderick reeled back, his hand dropping to his side. His breathing turned ragged, his fangs aching as they pressed against his lower lip.

The lad was perfect. Bloody perfect.

With a snarl, Broderick grabbed Finlay by the shoulders. The lad’s eyes flew open, wide and confused.

“MacDougal?” he murmured groggily, his voice thick with sleep.

Broderick sank his fangs into Finlay’s throat, piercing the skin with brutal precision. Warm, sweet blood flooded his mouth, rich with the taste of the lad’s memories, his hopes, his desires.

Broderick drank deep, delving further into Finlay’s mind, his life. Every thought, every memory only confirmed what he already knew. The lad was everything Davina deserved. Everything Broderick could never be.

The realization only fueled his rage. His grip on Finlay tightened, his instincts screaming at him to drain the man dry, to erase him from existence.