“To speak with Piers,” he replied, his tone dull. He tried to make his mouth say the rest, but he couldn’t get the words past his lips.
The expression on her face was one of surprise. “He’s returned from Edinburgh?”
“Aye,” he answered simply and fell into silence beside her, holding her hand. Harpy, tail wagging, kept pace at her side.
“I see,” she said low and must have sensed his turmoil, because she suddenly looked distressed. He thought she might be afeared, as well.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised. “Dinna be afraid, Elizabet.”
She nodded, and he gently squeezed her hand in reassurance.
God help him, he didn’t know how to say it.
There seemed no good time. He’d never intended to wait until they reached Piers’ manor before breaking the news to her, but in the contemplative silence, thewalk seemed far too short, and before he realized, they had arrived.
It was near dark now, and the burned remains of the stable sat like an open wound upon the land. He led her toward the sound of the reed in the distance, its song melancholy.
Everyone had gathered in the field near the little chapel.
“It looks like a funeral,” she remarked, peering up at him.
His heart pounding painfully, he pulled her toward the gathering, never daring to look at her.
They reached the church before the gathering. Before it sat a simple white cross wrapped in Brodie plaid.
God forgive him, but this instant, he almost wished it were himself being laid in the ground.
How was he going to face her after?
With every step he took, his stout legs seemed as though they would falter.
“Forgive me,” he begged her.
Elizabet was beginning to get the most terrible feeling.
Broc’s face was pale, his expression full of regret. Confusion embraced her.
She stopped and turned to face him. “Forgive you... for what?”
He wouldn’t look at her. He tried but couldn’t meet her gaze. He turned away to peer at the gathering of people in the distance, his throat bobbing.
He shook his head and said only one word, “John.”
Clarity returned with that single utterance.
She turned toward the crowd in the distance, comprehension dawning.
“No!” she exclaimed, her heart thumping against her ribs. He remained silent, and she tore her hand from his. “Tell me it isn’t so!” she demanded of him.
He didn’t speak, wouldn’t look at her.
She flew at him, pounding him on the chest. Harpy began to bark.
“No!” she screamed.
She turned from him and began to run toward the gathering, shouting her brother’s name.
Harpy ran after her, barking at her heels. In the distance, the music ended, and she ran blindly toward the gathered crowd, which turned to face her, watching her approach. She felt as though her legs would give beneath her.
