Page 44

Davina sat before the looking glass at her vanity, her reflection pale as moonlight.

Dark circles shadowed her eyes like bruises of exhaustion.

She pinched her cheeks, coaxing a hint of color to her skin, but the pallor clung stubbornly.

Her gaze fell to the iron brooch pinned to her bodice, her fingers brushing over the Celtic knotwork etched into its surface.

This was her reminder, her beacon. A fragile ember of hope that flickered with the memory of their first meeting. Broderick had been tender then, thrilling in his pursuit. She had known passion in his arms—heady and wild. But that had been when he had no legal claim on her.

Tonight, he would.

Rising to her feet, she paced the chamber, her skirts rustling like whispers of doubt around her legs.

The bodice of her gown constricted with every breath, a vice tightening around her ribs.

She dropped onto the settee, bending forward to press her face into her hands, pulling in shallow, shaky breaths.

Her chest cinched tighter, and she straightened, clenching her hands together until her knuckles gleamed white.

Her forearms pressed hard against her thighs, grounding her as her stomach churned.

Her breath faltered, her pulse hammering in her ears like the frantic wings of a trapped bird.

Closing her eyes, she mouthed a silent mantra, a fragile spell of fortitude. Steel yourself. Steel yourself. But her heart refused to obey, slamming against her ribs in protest.

A knock startled her. Her breath caught, and she flattened her trembling hands against her stomach, willing calm into her bones. “Come,” she managed, her voice thin.

Rosselyn poked her head into the room, her expression taut with sympathy. “He’s here,” she said gently. “Everyone is waiting in the chapel.”

The room swayed, her vision swimming. The edges of her world drew inward, the walls creeping closer, suffocating her with their closeness. Her chest seized, her breath hitching in ragged gasps as she gripped the cushion of the settee.

“Davina?” Rosselyn’s voice reached her, dulled and distant, as though from beneath a lake’s surface. “Are you alright?”

The chamber tilted precariously. Davina pressed a hand to her chest, her lungs ablaze as she fought to draw air.

“Davina!” Rosselyn’s face sharpened into focus as she crouched before her, gripping her arms. “Look at me.”

Davina nodded and inhaled. “I’m well.” She pressed her cold hands to her face. “Let’s get through this.” She stood, thankful for Rosselyn’s steady hand.

The hallway stretched out before her, long and shadowed.

Each step down the stairs felt heavier than the last, her breaths short and uneven.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, willing herself not to be sick.

Voices drifted up from the foyer—Tammus barking orders, the priest murmuring in hushed tones, and Broderick’s deep, steady cadence cutting through it all like a sword.

By the time she reached the chapel, her legs were leaden.

She paused at the threshold, and every gaze turned toward her.

The world swam at the edges of her vision until Rosselyn tugged her forward.

One foot in front of the other, she progressed down the narrow aisle of the private chapel.

When they reached the front, Rosselyn transferred Davina’s trembling hand to Broderick’s waiting grasp.

His skin burned hot against hers, his grip firm and possessive.

She hated that she needed his strength to steady herself.

Her gaze fixed on the priest’s book as he droned through the solemn rites, each word lashing her heart with dread.

With every syllable, it felt as if her remaining freedoms were slipping like sand through her fingers.

Broderick’s predatory glare from the study haunted her mind, chilling her to the bone.

Was he truly any different from the other men who had sought to claim her?

That ravenous, dangerous glint in his eyes when he’d said he wanted her in his bed echoed in her thoughts.

Her fingers drifted to the brooch pinned at her breast, brushing it unconsciously.

Broderick lifted her hand to his lips, his touch unexpectedly gentle. The simple caress banished a measure of the fog clouding her mind, enough for her to meet his gaze fully.

With careful intention, he flipped her hand and placed something in her palm.

Her breath hitched.

Her hair comb.

After all this time, he had kept it. Just as she had clung to his brooch like a lifeline. Emotion swelled in her throat, tightening until it ached, and her gaze snapped back to his.

In his eyes, she glimpsed that same flicker of vulnerability she had seen on their first night together—the firelight glinting in his pupils when he had told her she was beautiful.

She curled her fingers tightly around the comb, her pulse quickening.

A tremulous smile teased the corners of her lips.

Broderick’s emerald gaze darkened, heavy-lidded and smoldering, promising things far beyond the confines of vows and contracts.

The priest cleared his throat, drawing her attention. “Will you, Broderick MacDougal, take this woman, Davina Stewart, to be your lawful wedded wife, to guide and protect, to provide for and care for, as Christ loveth His Church, frae this day forward, ’til death do you part?”

“Aye,” Broderick said, without hesitation, his eyes locked to Davina’s.

Davina’s hand trembled in Broderick’s. His grip tightened, warm and unwavering.

“And will you, Davina Stewart, take this man, Broderick MacDougal, to be yer lawful wedded husband, to love, honor, and obey, to serve him and submit to him in all things lawful, frae this day forward, ‘til death do you part?”

Obey. Submit. The words struck her like a lash, threatening to strip her of the freedom she’d fought so hard to reclaim.

Her pulse fluttered wildly, but the steady pressure of Broderick’s hand and the comforting weight of the comb in her palm grounded her.

This wasn’t Ian. This was different. She was different.

Out of the corner of her eye, her uncle leaned forward, watchful .

Lilias cleared her throat, a soft, nervous sound that filled the charged silence.

But Broderick’s tenderness held fast. He raised her hand to his lips once more, the brush of his mouth a quiet vow, full of patient strength.

“Aye,” she whispered, the word seeping from her lips.

A flicker of relief crossed Broderick’s face—so brief she almost missed it. But his grip on her hand tightened, anchoring her to him in that fraught moment.

Tammus audibly exhaled, and Davina rolled her eyes, a thread of dry humor winding through her anxiety.

Broderick chuckled under his breath, a deep growl that rippled down her spine.

The priest quickly rattled off the Latin phrase that bound them in matrimony: “ Ego conjungo vos in matrimonium, in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. ” His shoulders dropped in obvious relief. “ Potestis osculum dare sponsam. ”

Broderick’s gaze smoldered, and that roguish grin brought out that damned dimple that always weakened her knees.

The priest leaned closer and whispered, “That means, ‘You may kiss the bride.’”

Broderick twisted his lips in annoyance.

“I bloody well know what it means.” He returned his heated gaze to her and pulled her into his arms. His hooded eyes dropped to her mouth, hungry and relentless.

Before she could gather her wits, Broderick slanted his mouth over hers.

His arms tightened, and the full length of his body molded to hers, fitting as though they’d been carved from the same stone.

A soft whimper escaped her lips, betraying her simmering desire.

“Bloody hell,” Tammus growled. “Save it for the bedchamber.”

Soft laughter fluttered around them, but Broderick kept plundering her mouth with languishing sensuality. Davina would have melted into the floor if he wasn’t the sole reason for keeping her on her feet. This kiss branded her, thoroughly claiming her, for all to witness.

Rustling around her indicated the few witnesses in attendance were leaving.

When Broderick allowed her to come up for air, his mouth hovered over hers, his eyes searching her face with oozing satisfaction. “Ye’re mine now, Blossom,” he murmured, his voice low enough for her ears alone.

Tammus cleared his throat rather loudly. “Just to be clear, MacDougal, I’m not leaving until this marriage is consummated. I’ll not have ye escaping the noose on a technicality.”

Broderick’s deep chuckle vibrated against her breasts, and his eyes never left hers. “Ye’ve my word, Lord Tammus. I’ll see tae it that Davina’s place as my wife is beyond question.”

Davina’s cheeks flamed and she tried to push out of his arms, but to no avail.

Tammus grunted and left the room.

Rosselyn leaned close and whispered, “You’ll be all right. He’s not as heartless as he looks.” With a soft laugh, she exited the chapel and closed the door behind her.

The heavy echo of the door closing seemed to seal Davina’s fate, leaving her alone with the wolf in whose den she now found herself trapped.

Davina raised an eyebrow at the rogue imprisoning her in his embrace. “This isn’t over. We need to talk.”

Broderick’s grin widened, his emerald eyes gleaming with predatory intent. “Oh, we’ll talk, Blossom. But later. For now…” His gaze dropped to her lips, and her breath caught. “I suggest ye get comfortable with the idea of bein’ mine. ”

His voice curled around her like a velvet chain, silken yet unyielding, promising both pleasure and peril. Her pulse danced beneath her skin as his mouth descended toward hers once more, sealing her fate with a kiss that left no room for doubt—tonight, she belonged to him.