Page 25
Chapter Six
Departin’?
Kendra stifled her gasp. Or mostly did. A distressed wisp of air escaped her.
Broden glanced over his shoulder, but she couldn’t decipher his guarded expression. “No’ today.”
He faced forward once more, his honey-streaked hair sweeping his broad shoulders. The strands had been soft and surprisingly silky between her fingers. Given his ruggedness, she expected a coarser texture.
“But likely I shall tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll be gone for at least a fortnight.”
“Ye’ll be gone?” His mother peered up at him, a shadow of disquiet lining her profile.
“Aye.” He gave her hand an affectionate pat. “I’d prefer ye to remain here until we find the shooter. I’d worry less about ye, and be less distracted, which will make it more difficult for the gunman to venture a second attempt on my life.”
Mrs. McGregor made a soft sound in her throat.
Agreement? Annoyance? Apprehension?
Broden was leaving.
Just like that.
As soon as he was able to rise from his sickbed.
Kendra should not be distressed, for pity’s sake. In fact, she ought to have expected he meant to leave as soon as he was able. Why she should care, she couldn’t say and assuredly wasn’t prepared to explore.
A fortnight ago, she’d have danced a jig and whooped for joy. Held the door and given his backside a firm, swift kick to speed him along his way.
The brightness of the winter day now diminished by a shroud of doubt, she followed Broden and his mother into the breakfast room. Only Liam was seated at the table, Mother and Emeline either deciding to take trays in their chambers or choosing to eat later.
Liam rose, a wide smile creasing his face at Broden’s presence.
The men clasped hands, letting the action say what they couldn’t in words. Why were men so afraid to show affection with each other?
“Ye’re lookin’ remarkably fit, I must say.” Liam resumed his seat and spread his serviette over his lap.
Ever the gentleman, Broden waited for his mother to choose her chair then pushed it in for her. Kendra took her usual place across the table, and for the first time since she’d been a star-struck adolescent, wondered if Broden would choose to sit beside her.
Not that she wished him to. She was simply curious. Something had shifted between them, but what, precisely? No longer did she consider him her nemesis—an irritating foe to be put in place—but neither was he a friend.
Friends didn’t exchange blistering kisses.
Simmons placed a cup of hot chocolate in front of her, and she sent him a grateful smile, inhaling deeply. Nothing like a cup of strong chocolate on a brisk January morning to start the day right. “Thank ye, Simmons. Just toast for me this mornin’, please.”
The majordomo dipped his regal head, swinging his focus to Mrs. McGregor. “And for ye, Madam?”
“Tea, if ye please, and I confess to bein’ quite famished.” She sent Broden a maternal look of approval and pride. “My appetite’s quite recovered now that I ken ye’re well.”
Well?Kendra gave a silent snort. He wasn’t well. Yes, he could stand upright and dress, but that did not make him well.
He was stubborn. Clot-headed. Obstinate. Determined to do what he wanted. Or what he believed needed doing. To forge his own course, just as she determined to define her route through life.
He could still reopen his wound, and infection yet presented a risk.
But Kendra also knew a man of Broden’s caliber could only bear so much idleness and recuperating. Wisdom decreed he’d wait longer before gallivanting to England.
He’d tell wisdom to bugger herself.
