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Davina twirled her cloak over her shoulders and fastened it at her throat, her heart thudding against her ribs like a restless beast. The moment she’d returned from Broderick’s room, she’d hastily dressed, tying her laces with trembling fingers.

Now, she eased the door open a crack and peeked into the dim hallway.

The man was maddening—arrogant, secretive, and insufferably commanding.

So, he thought she was using this marriage when it suited her. But what was he doing?

It was about time she figured out this mystery herself.

Pulling the hood of her cloak low over her brow, Davina slipped out of her chamber and into the quiet corridor. The castle lay in hush. She padded softly down the stone stairs, her slippered feet making scarcely a whisper against the worn steps.

As she reached the foyer, a door creaked open behind her. She froze, her breath locking in her chest. Broderick stepped into the hallway, his broad frame darkening the space.

Saints preserve her. A wave of nausea roiled through her belly as her mind scrambled for an excuse.

But instead of coming down the stairs toward her, he turned and strode upward, his boots thudding heavily as he climbed to the third floor.

Davina pressed herself into the shadows, heart hammering, ears straining to catch every sound.

BANG BANG BANG! She flinched, her hand flying to her breast to steady her breath.

Davina lingered, poised on the edge of retreat, straining to listen.

“What in the—” Her uncle’s voice, thick with irritation. “What the hell do you want? Shouldn’t you be bedding your wife?”

“Perhaps ye’re right,” Broderick drawled, his voice curling with dark amusement. “If she wasnae loud enough for ye tae hear, I’d be happy tae remedy that right now.”

Davina cringed and began tiptoeing back up the stairs, heat flooding her cheeks. Saints above, not only had the household likely heard her screaming Broderick’s name like a woman possessed, but the low, rumbling timbre of his laughter clenched something traitorous deep inside her. Damn him!

“For the love of Saint Peter, spare me! The whole bloody village probably heard you already!”

Broderick chuckled again, the sound rough and sinful, curling around her like smoke. She swallowed hard, her pulse fluttering wildly.

“That’s why ye woke me? Couldn’t this have waited until a more decent hour?”

“Suppose it could’ve,” Broderick said casually. “But I’ve business tae tend tae. There’s a new route I’d like tae establish, so I’m leaving now and willnae return until sunset.”

Broderick’s voice dropped too low for her to hear, and her uncle mumbled something in response, but she was already creeping back down the stairs and toward the front door, her pulse quickening with determination.

As she suspected. She didn’t believe for a moment that Broderick was tending to business he claimed no interest in. There was something else he did during the day, something he wasn’t willing to share, and she was going to find out what.

Her heart racing, she ducked into the shadows of the courtyard.

The morning air was biting and cold, carrying the damp scent of earth and a faint hint of burning oil from the torches lining the walls.

Drawing her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she pressed into the stone, her breath misting in the chill as she waited, her gaze fixed on the castle’s front entrance.

Time stretched unbearably long before the heavy door finally creaked open.

Broderick emerged, his tall figure framed in the doorway, his dark cloak catching the breeze like the wings of a predator.

She held her breath as she pressed herself deeper into the shadows.

He paused, scanning the courtyard, then nodded to the gate guards as they hauled open the thick wooden doors.

Without hesitation, Broderick strode through the gates, his pace purposeful and brisk, the wind tugging at the edges of his cloak.

Davina waited until the gate groaned and began to close behind him, then darted forward, slipping through the narrowing gap just in time. Freezing morning air brushed against her face as she emerged onto the road beyond.

She kept her distance, her steps feather-light against the packed dirt.

Dawn’s first light bloomed on the horizon, streaking the sky in gentle hues of pink and gold.

Broderick’s silhouette cut a commanding figure against the growing light, his shoulders broad beneath the weight of his cloak.

She watched as he tugged the hood low over his head, concealing his features from the waking day and increasing his pace.

Then, without warning, he vanished.

Davina’s breath left her in a rush. One heartbeat he was there, striding steadily ahead—and the next, gone. A dark blur swallowed by the forest’s shadowed edge.

“What…” Her voice came out as little more than a gasp, her heartbeat thundering in her chest .

She broke into a run, skirts clutched in her hands, her slippers padding against the earth as she hurried to the place where he’d disappeared.

The forest loomed like a living wall of shadow, dense and forbidding.

As she reached the tree line, she slowed, her eyes narrowing, scanning the underbrush for any sign of him.

There—a trail of parting leaves. She followed it, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

The path wound deeper into the forest, twisting and turning between the trees, the gnarled branches reaching like skeletal fingers.

But then it faded to nothing, the rest of the leaves undisturbed, as if no man had ever passed that way.

She stood there for a long moment, turning in a slow circle. The forest had grown thick around her, the trees towering overhead and blotting out the light of the rising sun. The air hung cool and damp, a faint mist clinging to the ground like ghostly wisps curling about her ankles.

Where in blazes had he gone?

Frustration coiled tight in her chest. Defeated, she turned and began making her way back toward the castle. The household would soon be bustling with activity, and Cailin would surely be looking for her.

As she walked, her thoughts churned like a storm-tossed sea. She couldn’t shake the image of Broderick vanishing before her eyes, his figure dissolving into a blur too swift for human speed. And it wasn’t the first time she’d noticed something…unnatural about him.

When she had entered his bedchamber last night, his eyes had turned to her—silver and glowing, like molten metal heated in a smithy’s forge. At the time, she had dismissed it as a trick of the moonlight streaming through the latticed window. But now, she wasn’t so sure .

Her mind drifted to the night in the fortune-teller’s tent, when she had made the bargain that sealed her fate. She had seen that same silver glow in his eyes then—and there had been no moonlight in the tent, only candlelight flickering against canvas walls.

And then there was the inhuman growl that had rumbled from his throat when he had turned on Amice’s granddaughter. The sound had been low and guttural, more beast than man, and it had chilled her blood.

Davina shook her head, as if to scatter the unsettling thoughts from her mind. Her imagination was running wild with impossibilities. But as much as she longed to dismiss these strange signs as mere tricks of her senses, she couldn’t ignore the prickling awareness that gnawed at her.

She didn’t have answers—not yet. But one thing was certain—whatever secrets Broderick was hiding, she would uncover them. No matter the cost.

By the time she reached the castle gates, the household was already stirring.

The large oaken doors rattled open to let her in, and she slipped within the walls, her cloak swirling around her ankles, and paused when she noticed the vacant stall in the stables.

Her uncle had already left. Although he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye—or mayhap she wasn’t in her chamber if he did—she exhaled at the weight suddenly lifting from her spirit.

Davina entered the foyer and poked her head into the study. Empty. A smile spread her lips wide. This was hers again. At last.

She marched up the stairs, and as she crossed the hallway to her bedchamber, she heard Rosselyn and Myrna’s raised voices over Cailin’s bawling. What in heaven’s name was going on in there ?

As she drew closer to the door, reaching for the handle, Myrna’s harsh voice gave her pause.

“Have ye lost yer mind, child? They’ll surely throw us out on our arses!”

“Davina wouldn’t do that, Mam! We can’t keep lying to them!”

Davina threw the door wide. “What’s going on here?”

Both women gasped, eyes wide. Myrna stopped bouncing Cailin on her hip and froze mid-motion.

As Cailin opened and closed her tiny fists in the air, Davina scooped her up and hugged her infant close to her breast. The babe’s warmth grounded her, even as her heart twisted.

“What exactly are you lying about?” She fought the tears threatening to choke her and kept her voice firm and authoritative.

“Rosselyn,” Myrna growled, casting her daughter a warning glare.

Rosselyn closed her eyes, visibly torn between her mother’s command and her own conscience.

Davina inhaled a shaky breath. “Tell me the truth, Roz. What’s goin’ on?”

Her handmaid’s shoulders sagged beneath the weight of dread. “Please know, Davina, I didn’t ken until—”

Myrna slammed the burping cloth onto the nearby chair and marched to the corner of the room, where she hugged herself tightly and covered her mouth, tears brimming through her scowl.

“I didn’t find out until Lord Parlan died,” Rosselyn pressed on, her voice thick with guilt. “And this secret has been eating me up inside. I’ve wanted to tell ye but—”

“Rosselyn McRae!” Davina stomped her foot, clutching her daughter tighter to her chest as she fought back her own rising tears .

Rosselyn nodded and inhaled a deep breath, bracing herself. “We are sisters, Davina.”

Davina shook her head as she rubbed her daughter’s back to quiet her. “I don’t understand. Of course, we are.”

Both Rosselyn and Myrna gawked at Davina. Rosselyn stepped closer, her face pale with disbelief. “You knew?”

They had always felt like sisters growing up through the years.

Why was this suddenly an issue? Unless… Davina shook her head, a sinking dread pooling in her chest. “Nay. What are you…” She clenched her jaw against the fresh burn of tears and leveled a glare at Myrna.

“You seduced my father?” she ground out, her voice tight with betrayal.

“There!” Myrna slapped her hands against her thighs, her face twisted in scorn. “Ye see that? Ye stupid girl. What harm was it doing to keep this quiet?” She snatched a canvas sack from the wardrobe and began furiously emptying the drawers into it.

“Davina deserves to know the truth!” Rosselyn shouted, her voice shaking with conviction.

Cailin wailed, her tiny fists balled in protest. Davina bounced her gently, her heart hammering against her ribs, throat clogged with unshed tears. “After all my family did for you! You lied! It wasn’t your fiancé’s child. He left you because he knew—”

“Davina, please—” Rosselyn tried again, desperation roughening her voice.

“Don’t bother, Rosselyn!” Myrna snapped, her eyes blazing as she glared at Davina. “Bloody nobility think they can do no wrong. I thought ye were different, Davina, but ye’re no better than the rest.”

Rosselyn reached toward Davina, but she flinched away, holding Cailin closer to her chest as though the babe could shield her from the weight of this betrayal. “Don’t touch me! Pack your things. Both of you!”

“My mither—” Rosselyn began, voice trembling.

“Get out!” Tears blinded Davina as she staggered from the room, her heart splintering beneath the storm of fury and grief.

She crossed the hall into her bedchamber and slammed the door behind her.

Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, clutching her daughter tightly as she wept with her infant, their cries entwined in shared sorrow.

How could Myrna have betrayed her family like that? How could she have lived beneath this roof, all the while concealing such a vile secret? Myrna had deceived them all, claiming the babe was her fiancé’s, that he had abandoned her—when all along, she had seduced Davina’s father.

Rage and heartbreak tangled in her chest as Cailin rooted against her breast, seeking comfort. Davina sniffled, latching onto the small solace her child provided.

She closed herself away in the nursery, drawing the shadows around her like a shroud.

As she fed her daughter, she rocked gently, willing the world to vanish beyond the walls of her grief, and clung to the numb embrace of denial.