The page hadn’t yet turned to ash when his younger brother Logan arrived with a pair of ales.
“I know that look,” Logan said, handing him one of the cups.“Who is it this time?Gormal?”
“Gormal?”he growled.“Gormal?”Hew frowned as anger’s sharp blade rushed in to try to protect his broken heart.“Gormal was three sennights ago.”
Logan shrugged, unfazed by Hew’s ire.“I can’t keep up.”Then he gulped down a large swallow of ale.
Hew supposed he shouldn’t be vexed with Logan.Since summer, he’d enjoyed the company of a dozen different lasses.Indeed, if he hadn’t given his heart so completely to each and every one, he wouldn’t have been able to keep track of them either.
It was a truth known to all of Rivenloch that Hew du Lac had a serious weakness for women.
How could he not?They were so beautiful.Tender.Strong.Maternal.He loved their gentle touch.The sparkle of their laughter.The vulnerability of their tears.Their subtle curves.Their soft voices.
And he never met a woman he couldn’t love.It didn’t matter if she was rich or poor.Young or old.Bonnie.Ugly.Widowed.Betrothed.
Indeed, it was lucky Hew was good with a weapon, for he’d gotten himself into more than one scrape, falling in love with another man’s mistress.
“Anne.Right,” Logan repeated, as if adding her to a mental list.“What happened?She didn’t have a husband, did she?”
Hew pretended to bristle at the suggestion.“Nay.”
“Come on,” Logan chided.“’Tis me, your brother.Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Hew blew out a harsh sigh.“Nay, she wasn’t married.”
It had been three months since he’d unfortunately charmed the beautiful wife of Sithech the butcher.He was determined he wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“That’s good then, aye?”Logan said.“You won’t have to kill anyone.”
This time Hew didn’t have to pretend offense.“I’ve never killed a man over a woman, and you know it,” he grumbled.Hehadgiven Sithech the butcher a good clout in the nose.But that had been in self-defense.
Logan grinned at him over his cup.“I do know it.I’d just rather see you snarling than moping.”
Hew narrowed his eyes meaningfully at his brother.“Ihavekilled a man for testing my patience before.”
Logan laughed.He wasn’t afraid of his big brother, even though Hew took after their hotheaded mother Helena.Logan had inherited their father Colin’s sense of humor, so he always knew how to incite—and quell—Hew’s rage.
“Hey,” Logan said, nudging him again with his elbow.He paused to finish off his ale, then wiped his mouth with the back of his arm.“Since you’re nototherwise occupiedwith Anne,” he said, raising his brows twice for effect, “why not come to the field and show me how to do that axe trick?”
“Maybe later.”
While Hew appreciated his brother’s efforts at cheering him up—Logan knew how much Hew loved demonstrating his axe skills—he wasn’t in the mood.
This last heartbreak felt like the culmination of all that had come before.He’d beenso sureabout Anne.So certainthis time he’d found The One, as his cousin Isabel liked to say.True, he’d said that at some point about most of the ladies he’d courted.But this time, he’d meant it.That Anne should so callously reject him for the feeblest of reasons—I fear I grow weary of your companythe missive had said—felt like the final layer of the burial shroud wrapped around his love life.
“Forget her,” Logan advised.“She wasn’t good enough for you.You’ll find another sweetheart soon enough.One more worthy.”
Hew smirked at that.His brother almost always found a way to soothe his aching heart.But this time, Hew didn’t think it was possible.He was weary of lust and loss.
“I’m going to take a vow of chastity,” he decided, only half jesting.
“What?”Logan exploded.“Chastity?How can you say such a thing?You know you’re my hero, right?”He shook his head.“Sard a bard, Hew, you’re only one-and-twenty.Still in your prime.”
Hew grunted.Today he felt like he was one-and-forty.
“On the other hand,” Logan added with sly innuendo, “maybe withyouoff the market,I’llstand a chance.”
“Who’s off the market?”Their mother Helena strode into the room, clutching a rolled parchment in her hand.
