“I wouldn’t have come—”
“What is it, Broc?”
“I canna say precisely, and it would serve us both better if ye dinna ask.”
Colin gave him a sober look. “I see.”
Broc hadn’t intended to reveal even that much, but he trusted Colin without fail. Still, considering that his sister was wed to Montgomerie, he didn’t wish to put his best friend in the awkward position of knowing more than he should.
Colin’s brows collided. “Och, I’ve known you long enough to know there is something you need from me so dinna beat about the bush. What is it?”
This wasn’t going at all as Broc had intended, but Colin was right. Out of respect, Broc came directly tothe point. “What’s do you know of the brother?” he asked, eyeing the door to be sure no one entered the hall whilst they spoke.
For an instant, Colin’s expression remained pensive. And then he began. “There are at least two witnesses who claim a giant, fair-haired”—his eyes narrowed as he regarded Broc more closely, obviously coming to the right conclusion because he averted his eyes an instant before saying, “They say he was attacked by one of our own.”
Broc remained collected under Colin’s careful scrutiny and even managed a smile. “Giant, eh?”
“Aye.” Colin’s tone remained sober. “They claim he accosted them without provocation, murdered two men, one of them being the woman’s half-brother, and then took the girl and fled with his knife pressed to her throat.”
Broc had little respect for liars and less for those too craven to defend their fellows. His tone was full of contempt when he spoke. “Two witnesses, ye say?” He lifted a brow. “Two men against one?”
“Against a giant,” Colin reminded him. “And he threatened to kill her if they followed.”
“Damned chicken-hearted bastards!”
“Aye,” Colin agreed, and seemed suddenly thoughtful.
“If she had been my mistress, I would have plucked out the man’s tongue,” Broc said. “He never would have had a chance to have his knife at her throat in the first place!” Anger surged through him.
He twined his fingers together between his knees and stared down at the floor, trying to compose himself. Though he had the most overwhelming urge to defend himself, to tell Colin why he had done what he’d done, it was in no one’s best interest for him to confess right now—not Colin’s, not Seana’s, not his own, and most assuredly not Elizabet’s.
What the hell was he going to do?
At the instant, he felt the weight of his deception bearing down upon him. It was nearly as heavy as his obligation to Elizabet.
He shook his head, clenching his jaw in torment.
Never in his life had he found himself so torn. The lines had always been so clearly drawn for him—right was right, wrong was wrong, and his loyalty lay solely with his clan. This time, he could not even see the forest for the trees. No matter what choice he made, someone innocent was bound to suffer. God’s truth, if he could have sacrificed himself and no one else, he would do so without hesitation.
But that wasn’t the case.
If he turned himself in, he would place Elizabet in danger. After all, who would protect her and who would believe him? Certainly not Piers against the word of two witnesses. Not even Elizabet, for he had lied to her about her brother. If he revealed himself to Colin, then Colin would be forced to betray either his sister or his best friend. If he swore Seana to secrecy, he would be asking her to break faith with her husband. If he told Iain, he would oblige Iain to side with him against every other clan in the region—and Iain would do so, but Broc couldn’t allow it.
No matter how he looked at it, he felt completely alone. And the only thing he knew of a certain was that he would never forgive himself if he allowed any harm to come to Elizabet.
She trusted him... as Colin did... as Iain did.
Colin’s tone was grave when he spoke. “Is there aught you wish to share with me, Broc?”
Broc shook his head, his gut wrenching. He couldn’t even look Colin in the eyes. “I just need time,” he said, and the simple statement said far more than Broc should have provided.
Silence fell between them—a long impenetrablesilence. Colin seemed to understand precisely what Broc could not say. When Broc peered again into his friend’s eyes, they were sullen and distressed.
Seana came into the room just then, bearing a tray with beverages for the three of them. Along with the ale, she brought bread and cheese to snack on. With a heartwarming smile for her husband and another for Broc, she placed the tray on the table between them. Neither of them responded, with the mood between them as morose at it was.
She placed her hands upon her hips. “The two of you look as though you’ve been sentenced to death! What could be so wrong?”
She looked from one to the other, waiting for an explanation.
