How long had he been gone now? It seemed like an eternity. What would Piers say?
They must be very near Montgomerie’s fief, as her guardian angel—that’s how she’d come to think of him—seemed to know Piers well enough. Then again, an Englishman with holdings in Scotia would likely be talked about for leagues. She knew these Scots couldn’t possibly like Montgomerie’s presence here. Nor would they relish that he’d been given King David’s approval. Or that he was a favored emissary of King Henry.
Had he been trying to teach her a lesson, or was it more? Heat crept into her face as she remembered his arousal. And yet he hadn’t harmed her.
God’s truth, she wished he would hurry.
The night seemed to be getting colder by the instant, and, as the candle grew shorter, the shadows grew longer. Wrapping the blanket more firmly about her shoulders, she sat again at the little table to wait, anxious to learn something of her brother.
What if he didn’t come back?
Mayhap she should set out by herself to find Piers? She felt entirely too helpless waiting here in this place.
There had never been anyone to champion her—not ever—not even as a child. Her mother had been far too busy with her own affairs, and if Elizabet had wanted something, she’d had to pursue it herself.
The wait was driving her mad!
Where the devil was he?
Growing too impatient to remain seated, she sprang from the chair and went to the door once more, throwing it open with a vengeance. The last thing she expected to find was her dubious savior standing there, leaning with one hand on the doorframe, staring down at his feet, as though he had nary a concern in the world.
She shrieked in surprise.
He bellowed in fright.
“What are you doing here?”
He stood and turned to face her, narrowing his eyes at her. “Picking flowers,” he answered.
Elizabet narrowed her eyes. He was alone. Something had not gone well by the look on his face. “How long have you been standing there?” she demanded to know.
“Not verra long.”
She pushed the door open wider, allowing him entrance, and he walked past her without looking into her eyes.
Elizabet waited for him to explain.
Sweet Mary, had Piers repudiated her? Panic assailed her. What would she do if he turned her away?
“He wasn’t there.”
Her heart fluttered. “Piers?”
“Aye.” He turned to face her at last, and Elizabet felt her knees go weak at his glance. Never in her life hadshe met eyes so vivid a blue. “He’s gone to Edinburgh and willna be back for a few days.”
Averting her gaze, Elizabet went to the table and sank into the chair, considering his news.
When she met his gaze again, he was watching her, his blue eyes assessing.
“You cannot expect me to wait here until he returns. My brother will worry.” Though John was the elder, Elizabet felt responsible for him.
He met her declaration with absolute silence.
Broc had decided his best course was to tell her the truth, because he didn’t know how to lie. But facing her now, he didn’t know how to tell her that her brother was dead. He tried to say the words, but they simply wouldn’t come out of his mouth.
“He must know what has happened here. I must tell him,” she insisted, and his guilt escalated. He knew in his heart he hadn’t killed the man, but he knew she would believe that he had. And if she thought he’d murdered her brother, there was no way she would willingly remain with him. Her life was in danger. He couldn’t tell her the truth.
For an instant, he feared he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. She sprang from the chair. “You said my brother was unharmed!”
