Never again would she allow herself to fall prey to a man’s sweet words and gentle caresses. Never would she be so stupid to place her trust in any man’s care.
In fact, let any man dare even look at her sideways, and she would curse him to hell where he belonged! Men were faithless knaves, who cared only for their own selfish pleasures.
She didn’t want to remember the devotion with which he had worshiped her body or the unselfish way he had made love to her. She wished she could erase thememories entirely, for she knew it would leave her aching for something she could never have.
And Tomas... she no longer saw him the same somehow. There was something in his demeanor that seemed sinister now.
Her other two companions were decent men, and she trusted their words. If it hadn’t been for their testimony, she would never have taken Tomas’s word over Broc’s.
And the worst of it all was that she, too, had witnessed everything—except that she had been too enraptured with Broc to trust her own eyes. She had allowed him to convince her otherwise with scarce more than a wink of his blue eyes and a few empty assurances.
As it turned out, he was naught but a liar—and she was a fool because she still wanted to believe him.
She cast an annoyed glance at Tomas, wishing he would keep to himself. If she had to suffer his presence every instant of their journey home, she thought, she would scream. He was like her shadow now, never leaving her side. No matter that the other two had given testimony to his innocence, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy in his company.
“You made the right choice, Elizabet.”
She nodded, not wishing for conversation at the instant.
“You made the only choice to honor your brother.”
Elizabet’s heart wrenched at the reminder.
John deserved far more than to be buried in some foreign land by a bunch of strangers who cared naught more for him than they did for justice and truth.
“I’m only glad you were fortunate enough to escape,” Tomas persisted.
She hadn’t escaped, in truth. Broc had shamelessly brought her there—after having his way with her—without any warning of what she would encounter. For that, too, she would never forgive him. Though it scarce mattered, because he like as not didn’t care how she felt. If he had, he would’ve at least honored her with the truth.
Shame kept her tongue stilled.
Fury kept her from weeping.
“He was a dangerous man, Elizabet!” Tomas said, as though rebuking her.
She cast Tomas a beleaguered glance. “You needn’t tell me what I already know!”
Sweet Jesu, she was beginning to believe that all men were bent on inflicting misery and heartache! Go away! she begged him silently.
“Anyone who could so savagely cut a man’s throat and leave him to be mauled by wild animals should be hung by his entrails!”
Bile rose in her throat at his exclamation.
“So much blood!” he said, shaking his head. “Poor young John. “’Tis a fortunate thing you did not see him,” he assured her.
Her heart jolted, and she straightened in the saddle, suddenly realizing what he’d said.
John’s throat hadn’t been cut.
Nor had there been any blood.
She recalled it clearly, because she’d searched for a wound and had found not one single drop of blood or any sign of injury. When Broc had assured her that he’d merely smacked him with the butt of his dagger, she had believed him because, in truth, she hadn’t spied any wound at all.
She looked at Tomas, trying to determine whether she had heard him correctly or not. He wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was fixed elsewhere.
She peered about, searching for their companions, and found that they were nowhere in sight. It was only she and Tomas. She’d been so busy castigating herselffor her mistakes that she hadn’t even been aware of their surroundings.
Her heart began to beat a little faster as she gathered the reins in her hands. “Where are the others?” she asked Tomas casually.
