She would have liked simply to trust him, but good sense told her to check. She did and found that he spoke the truth. She turned and narrowed her eyes at him. “And leave me unfettered as well.”
He lifted his brow at her, seemingly amused by her dictates. To show her they were empty, he held up his hands. “I seem to have forgotten the chains.”
She sighed heavily, feeling suddenly weary. “Very well, then. I’ll remain here on the understanding that if you do not return anon, I will leave here and go to Piers myself.”
His brow furrowed. “I would not advise leaving, lass. These woods are not so peaceable as they seem, and the way is long and perilous from here.”
“Nevertheless, I will only remain if I am free to leave,” Elizabet persisted.
“There will be no one to stop ye.”
“Very well, then I’ll stay.”
With that settled between them, he stood and looked down at her a long moment, and then he reached out and brushed the hair from her face. “Och,” he said, “I canna imagine who would harm a hair on that lovely head.”
His hand lingered, not touching her, though very near her face, and she lowered her gaze, torn. His words both thrilled and disquieted her.
But men never did anything without promise of reward, and thinking he meant now to claim his, she readied herself to defy him. Never had a man spoken so huskily to her and not wanted something in return. If he chose to abandon her after she refused him, then so be it. She would find her own way to Piers.
“There is a blanket in the corner,” he surprised her by saying. “The night will grow cold.”
She looked up at him, swallowing the sour retort she had readied. A gentle giant stood before her with a smile so warm it squeezed her heart.
“I will return soon with Montgomerie,” he promised, and then simply left her seated at the crude little table without saying another word. He never even looked back as he shut the door behind him.
Elizabet pursed her lips as she stared at the closed door, contemplating her dubious savior. The man confused her more than any she had ever met.
“Surely he wants something,’ she muttered to herself.
Later he would try to claim his prize, she decided. Later he would offend her—after he returned. She could not believe any man would be so selfless as to expect nothing for his trouble. And yet, nothing was precisely what he would get—aside from her gratitude anda simple thank you very much. Elizabet’s affections were not for sale, and she didn’t want a man in her life.
Freedom was too near at hand.
CHAPTER 7
He might have guessed Montgomerie was her cousin.
It made perfect sense, the two of them being English, but it might have been easier to deal with a Scot. Piers was reputed to be a fair man, but he was a bloody Sassenach first, and that hadn’t changed simply because he’d wed himself to a Highland lass.
From what he recalled of the dispute Montgomerie had had with the Brodies, Montgomerie was a hard man who gave no quarter. Known as King Henry’s lion of justice, he was rumored to have a fearful temper, particularly when defending his territory. It was said he’d gone with sword in hand to claim Meghan Brodie from her three brothers and that none of them had dared move to stop him, so fearsome was his wrath at finding Meghan gone from his home. He had stolen her, taken her maidenhead and claimed her for his bride. Broc knew the Brodies well enough to know that none of them feared any man easily. Three more stalwart brothers he’d never met. But Piers had been ready to do battle for the woman he loved, and in the end they’d let her go.
Piers was a formidable man, but Broc knew Meghan would defend him to Piers. And if Meghan lovedMontgomerie, as Colin said she did, Montgomerie must be a good man at heart, Sassenach or nay. And Elizabet was Piers’ own flesh and blood, after all. He shouldn’t have to argue her position. Montgomerie would surely champion her of his own accord.
Och, but his little harridan was lovely... though that was certainly not why he was intervening on her behalf. It was simply the right thing to do.
Only a year ago he would have loathed her for her Sassenach blood, and in truth, he might have abandoned her to her fate, but much had happened to soften his anger. He still did not trust the English, and he thought King David of Scotia a fool for dealing with Henry, for the English would stop at nothing to bring Scotia to its knees. But neither could Broc any longer justify his once blind hatred. He was wary of men like Montgomerie, to be sure, but he could no longer despise them simply for their birth.
And anyway, some good had come of Piers’ settlement here. A tentative peace had come to their clans. No longer were ancient feuds, such as that between the MacKinnons and the MacLeans, nursed. No longer did Montgomerie and Brodie war upon one another. Marriage had brought unity to their peoples. Together, the MacLeans, MacKinnons, Brodies and Montgomerie had stood against Page’s bastard da.
Broc made his way quickly through the woods, telling himself that she would be safe until his return. Though the night was almost too dark to travel, he didn’t need much light to make his way. He knew these border woods well.
He heard the voices before he saw them as he broke into the clearing near Montgomerie’s manor, and he retreated into the woods to assess the scene before continuing.
In the courtyard, two men on horseback sat their mounts before Montgomerie. Another man stoodtalking to Piers, and beside them, stretched out upon the ground, lay two bodies. Huddled together on the steps with the newlyweds, Colin and Seana, Broc spied Meghan, with her hand covering her mouth.
Montgomerie held in his hand a parchment, reading from it, and Broc awaited Montgomerie’s reaction.
Two men were dead, he realized. He had very likely killed one of them, but not two.
