Page 58

Broderick stormed into the camp, his boots thumping against the frost-hardened earth, each step a thud of rising fury.

The once lively Romani camp had quieted with the creeping cold of autumn, its colors dulled beneath the fading twilight.

Campfires flickered low, casting trembling shadows over bundled figures hunched for warmth.

Broderick passed them all without a glance—villager, Romani, it made no difference.

His mind burned with singular purpose: Veronique.

The visions had plagued his restless sleep again—fragments of scenes, jagged like shards of broken glass, slicing through his thoughts.

He still didn’t understand their origin, nor why they began, but one truth pulsed relentlessly in his chest: they were tied to Davina.

Somehow, these cursed dreams allowed him glimpses of her peril.

And this time, what he had seen stoked a fire in his blood.

Davina, cornered in the kitchen, flames curling dangerously close.

Her pale face stricken with fear. Flashes of Veronique’s silhouette, a raised oil lamp gleaming in malicious intent, and then chaos—heat, smoke, terror.

He hadn’t seen it all, but he’d seen enough.

Veronique had placed Davina in mortal danger.

His jaw locked, a muscle ticking as he strode toward Amice’s caravan. Fury thundered through his limbs.

Amice sat hunched beside a dwindling fire, her frail hands trembling in her lap. The moment her eyes met his, she stiffened. Guilt shadowed her weathered face, and her gaze darted away as if the flames offered refuge from his glare.

“Where is she?” Broderick’s voice rasped, low and lethal.

Amice pressed her palms to her cheeks, her breath quickening. “ Je ne sais pas ,” she stammered, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “She is not here.”

Broderick took a measured step closer, his broad frame casting her in his looming shadow. “Amice,” he warned, the growl curling through his throat like a threat, “do not lie to me. I saw what she did. I saw th’ danger she put Davina in. Where is Veronique?”

Amice’s shoulders crumpled, her voice dropping to a broken whisper. “I do not know where she is,” she repeated, her gaze fixed on the cold ground beneath her feet. “ S’il te pla?t , Broderick,” she pleaded, voice trembling, “you must promise me you will not harm her.”

Broderick’s temper flared, but he forced himself to take a steadying breath, feeling the fire simmer beneath his ribs. “Ye have tae tell me what happened.”

“Promise me, Broderick!” Amice’s voice rose, tight and trembling with desperation.

Tears spilled down her wrinkled cheeks as she stood, frail hands fisted at her sides.

“She is my granddaughter, Broderick. I know she has done wrong, but she is all I have.” Her voice fractured, raw with anguish. “I cannot lose her.”

His hands balled into fists at his sides, tension coiled in every muscle. He looked away, jaw clenched so tight it ached, struggling to cage the storm raging inside him. He wanted to shout, to demand the truth, but the sight of Amice’s trembling, fragile form anchored him.

“I’ll tell you, Broderick,” Rosselyn said, her voice cutting through the tension like an axe. She stepped forward from the shadows, her expression grim and resolute.

“ Non , Rosselyn, please,” Amice implored, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

Broderick’s gaze locked on Rosselyn, a spark of hope flickering amidst his fury. “Ye know what happened?”

Rosselyn nodded, steady and unflinching. “Veronique tried to poison Davina, and when we caught her, she tried to set a fire. She could have killed Davina and others if Nicabar and I hadn’t stopped her.”

Amice gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as if to trap the cry of horror that escaped.

But Rosselyn’s gaze never wavered. “I’m sorry, Amice,” she said softly, her tone heavy with sorrow yet firm. “But Veronique deserves whatever’s coming to her. What she did was unforgivable.”

Broderick’s fury roared back to life, hot and searing. He began pacing, small clouds of dust rising beneath his heels. “Where is she now? Does anyone know?” His gaze pinned Amice in place.

The old woman bowed her head, her voice no more than a quivering thread. “Do not ask me, mon fils . I cannot see past my heartache to divine where she is. I already fear the worst.”

Broderick halted before Nicabar, who stood sentinel beside Rosselyn, stoic and watchful. “What about the tribe?” Broderick asked, his tone rough as gravel. “Have they decided when they’re movin’ on?”

Nicabar inclined his head. “There has been talk about the cold nights. Many are anxious to leave. Two, maybe three days.”

Broderick considered this, the gears of strategy grinding in his mind. “I’ll be stayin’ behind at the castle,” he declared, voice hard with resolve. “If the tribe moves on before Veronique returns, then I will see tae her.”

“You’re staying?” Rosselyn’s brows lifted, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Does Davina know?”

A huff bounced his shoulder. “She’s the reason I’m considerin’ it,” he admitted, his voice roughened by both grim amusement and determination. “I’ll have tae see how things fare tonight, though.”

Amice stepped forward and wrapped her frail arms around him, her tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. Her fragile form trembled against him. “ Merci ,” she whispered, her voice catching with emotion. “ Merci for staying.”

Broderick sighed, placing a steadying hand on her back.

“Dinnae thank me yet,” he said grimly. “Veronique and I are goin’ tae have words.

This obsession of hers has tae stop. And if she doesnae listen…

” He let the words trail off, heavy and unspoken, but the threat lingered in the space between them.

Amice pulled back, her eyes shining with sorrow as she nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I understand,” she said softly, her voice barely a breath.

Rosselyn and Nicabar exchanged a glance thick with concern before retreating to their caravan, leaving Broderick alone with Amice.

As their footsteps faded, he lowered to one knee before her, his gaze intent and solemn.

He took her trembling hands into his own, the chill of her skin striking against the heat of his resolve.

“I’ll do my best tae compel her,” he promised quietly.

“Even feed from her if I must. If I can influence her, I will. But I dinnae know what that will do tae her—or tae me.” His voice dropped to a near growl, roughened by both frustration and dread.

“Once I’ve fed, I’ll know exactly what she did.

I’ll know how deep this obsession runs, and I cannae promise I willnae… ”

He broke off, the weight of unspoken outcomes hanging heavy.

Amice’s chin quivered as she nodded, her sobs wracking her slight frame. She collapsed into his arms, clinging to him as though he were her last tether to hope. Broderick held her tightly, his jaw set, his mind already steeling for what lay ahead.

Whatever it took, he would end this. For now, he needed to feed.

∞∞∞

The scratching of her pen against parchment was the only sound in the study as Davina leaned over her desk, her focus fixed on the columns of numbers scrawled in her uncle’s uneven hand.

The ledgers were a disaster—entries missing, sums that didn’t add up, expenses unaccounted for.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

This mess wouldn’t have happened if her uncle had just let her continue doing what she’d been doing for over a year.

Running the estate, raising Cailin, fending off the chaos that seemed to follow her family’s every move, and she would have done it a sight better without having to deal with all this damned suitor business.

She didn’t hear him at first, but something made her look up—a prickle at the back of her neck, a shift in the air. Broderick stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders framed by the lantern glow in the foyer. Tension carved hard lines into his jaw, a storm brewing in those emerald eyes.

Davina’s chest tightened, though she refused to let it show. “You’re brooding again,” she said, dipping her pen back into the inkwell. “What is it this time?”

He stepped into the room, his boots heavy against the flagstone. “You’ve injured yourself,” he said, his voice roughened with concern.

Davina blinked, momentarily confused, until she glanced down at her hand. The bandage wrapped around her burn from helping to douse the fire Veronique had set. She quickly tugged her sleeve down, hiding it from view. “It’s nothing,” she said dismissively.

“Och, woman. It doesnae look like nothin’.” He stopped in front of the desk, his gaze fixed on her hand. “In fact, I know what happened this mornin’,” he said, his voice softening. “With Veronique. I’m sorry.”

Her pen stilled, the tip hovering above the parchment. “Why are you apologizing?”

“The lass has become obsessed with me.” Broderick crossed his arms over his chest.

Davina’s throat tightened. She forced herself to set the quill down carefully before meeting his gaze. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Aye.” He crossed his arms, his expression darkening like a thundercloud. “The Gypsies are leavin’ in two or three days, but I’ll be stayin’ on. At least for a while. ”

Her heart gave a painful twist. Staying? She had assumed this was his farewell, and the thought had left her hollow in a way she hadn’t dared examine too closely. But now… Now he was staying.

“For how long?” she asked, striving for neutrality in her voice though her pulse thrummed with uneasy hope.

“Until Veronique comes back. Or ’til I determine her fate.” He hesitated, his gaze softening as it met hers. “I want tae make sure ye’re safe, Davina. You and wee Cailin.”

Her chest ached at his words, but she quickly shoved the feeling aside like a foolish indulgence. “And what happens after that?”

He didn’t answer.

She forced a tight smile. “I see.”