Chapter 23
The sand had run out of his glass.
Seana rose from the table, her chin lifting in challenge. She gave Broc a look unlike any she’d ever given him before—as though she suddenly thought him no better than a worm.
Broc said nothing in his defense.
What could he say?
“I would like to speak to you alone,” Seana requested, her tone filled with outrage.
Elizabet tilted him a look. He took a deep breath and begged her to excuse them and then motioned for Seana to join him outside the hovel.
Elizabet released him, obviously confused by the request, stepping away.
He turned to the door, opening it for Seana, and then cast a single backward glance at Elizabet before closing it behind him.
Her face was filled with turmoil.
“What are you doing?” Seana said, when they were alone and far enough away from the door that Elizabet could not hear them.
Broc frowned, his chest heavy with torment. “I take it you know everything.”
“Aye!” Seana shrieked. “She told me everything! And you lied to that poor lass!”
He nodded, without excuse.
“Why?” she demanded of him. “That is hardly the Broc I know and love! I have never known you to lie to anyone in all our acquaintance!”
Broc shrugged, peering down at the ground.
“Why did you lie to her?”
He knew precisely what it was she was talking about. He shook his head, looking up into her eyes, his own eyes stinging with tears he refused to shed. “I dunno,” he confessed. “At first it wasn’t a lie. I didn’t kill him, Seana.”
Her eyes told him she wanted to believe him, but she didn’t know what to believe.
“I didn’t kill him,” Broc repeated more firmly. “I didn’t kill him, and if you dinna believe me, then who the hell will?” It was as close to begging as Broc could come.
“I believe you,” she conceded. “But you still lied to her, Broc, and she deserves to know her brother is dead. She deserves to attend his burial.”
He shook his head. “I can’t let her go.”
Seana narrowed her eyes at him. “Do ye love her, Broc?”
There was no doubt in his mind. “I do.”
“Then ye listen to me well, Broc Ceannfhionn. If ye dinna tell her the truth, you will surely lose her!” She pointed irately at the hovel. “If it were me in there and you couldna be honest with me and speak the truth, I swear to God above I would leave you and never look back!”
He knew she was advising him well, but he couldn’t place Elizabet in danger—no matter what it meant for him. He couldn’t allow Tomas to harm her. “If I let her go,” he reasoned, trying to make her understand, “then I will place her at risk!”
“Trust in your friends,” she said.
She wasn’t being reasonable. “And if I had told Colin about this, what do ye think he would have done?”
She glared at him, straightening her shoulders, refusing to give in to him. “I’ve no idea, in truth,” she admitted, “but I know he would never betray you. You saved his life, Broc. He would never let harm come to you—and certainly not at the word of some conniving Englishman!”
“Nay,” he relented, “but he would feel as torn by the knowledge as you feel right now, and I could not do that to him.”
“You already did it to him, you bloody oaf!” Broc knew she spoke in anger. Her hands flew to her hips. “Do ye think he is so stupid he hasna already figured it out?”
Broc nearly choked on his guilt. Already the conflict had begun, and he hadn’t even revealed himself to Piers. But he damned well didn’t regret helping Elizabet. Had he to do it all over again, he would do the same.
“Trust in your friends,” Seana begged him. She reached out to touch him upon the arm, appealing to him.
“Do ye comprehend all that is at risk, Seana?”
She nodded.
“If I confess to Piers, it will be the word of three Sassenach liars against my own. Who do you think he will believe?”
“I will stand up for you, Broc! Colin will stand up for you, as well! I know that without any doubt. And do ye think Iain will simply allow them to hand you over to be punished for something you did not do?”
“There will be bad blood between the clans,” he said stubbornly, shrugging free of her touch. “Iain suggested I take Elizabet and leave until all is settled, and I think mayhap ’tis the right thing to do!”
Seana shook her head adamantly. “I dinna agree!”
“This isna your concern!” he told her, anger clouding his thoughts.
“You should have bluidy well stayed out of this, Seana! I didna ask ye to interfere, and your husband wouldna appreciate your meddling!” He tried to temper his anger, but he felt trapped, without choices.
“What do ye think he would say if he knew you were here?”
Her face fell at the veiled threat, and she was taken aback.
“You should bluidy well have remained where ye belong—in Colin’s bed—and ye should mind your own affairs, woman!”
She blinked at his words, stepping back, looking wounded by his attack.
Her eyes reddened and turned glassy, and her lip trembled when she spoke.
“I came because of a boy I once knew. Do ye remember him? He came to me when others laughed and called me names because of my lame leg. He defended me to their faces, rebuking them all.”
She was speaking of him, of their childhood, and his throat thickened with shame.
A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she spoke with great affection and emotion. “He came to me and lifted me up and set me upon his lap and wiped away my tears. And he pledged me his friendship and swore he would be there for me whenever I needed him. Always.”
Broc swallowed, his own eyes hazing.
“Do ye remember him?” she asked again, choking on her tears. “That boy knew right from wrong, Broc, and I came for him verra much. Do you understand?”
He couldn’t answer. His throat was too clotted to speak. His eyes burned.
She turned away from him then and went to the horse she’d left tethered to a nearby tree. She untethered the horse without a word and mounted with some difficulty. He would have stepped forward to help her if he hadn’t known with certainty that she would have refused him.
He knew Seana, knew her considerable pride.
When she was mounted, she turned to him at last. She urged the mount closer to him and looked down at him, her expression pained. “If you love that woman in there, you will tell her the truth, Broc. And you will tell her before tonight so that she can attend her brother’s funeral.”
Broc said nothing, merely looked away, his gut burning.
“Tell her good-bye for me, please. I will not go back in there and face her with lies!”
He peered up at her, stubbornly keeping his silence, but knowing deep down that she was telling him the truth. He knew she believed it with all her heart.
“She’s bonny and sweet and seems to adore you. If you tell her the truth, she just might forgive ye.”
He was afraid to hope for that.
“But if ye dinna, Broc, I promise you will lose her.”
And with that last admonition she left him to consider her words.