Page 30 of Bound By Deception

He grunted, helping himself to some bread.

“Mine certainly was,” she said when it became clear he wasn’t going to elaborate. “Mirren showed me around the broch … and I met Princess Lara.” She paused then, toying with her spoon. “The fort is bigger than I expected. We—”

“I heard you visited the healer today,” the chief-enforcer interrupted her. “Is something wrong with you?”

Bree stiffened. Had he been spying on her?

“She gave me something for headaches, that’s all,” she replied. “Sometimes it feels as if powries are stabbing mytemples with their pikes … and I thought I was succumbing this morning.”

His gaze met hers. “And how fares your head now?”

“Much better … thank you.”

A heartbeat passed, and then he glanced over at the inset, where the collection of both their figurines sat. His brow furrowed, and Bree sensed his disapproval. She’d known putting her idols next to his would annoy him and braced herself to be told off.

However, she wasn’t. A moment later, her husband focused once more on his supper. Silence fell again.

Irritated, Bree started to tap her foot under the table. “Princess Lara has invited me to go shopping with her soon … on Market Day.”

Mac Brochan nodded, but he didn’t look her way. He chewed his meal doggedly, although with little enjoyment. It was as if it was a chore he had to get through.

“I would like to buy some clothing,” she went on. “Is that permitted?”

“Aye.” Finishing his meal, her husband leaned back in his chair and picked up his cup of wine, swirling it in front of him. “I shall leave you a coin purse on the table tomorrow … spend what you want.” He paused then before adding, “I will be away from Duncrag for a few days.”

Relief swept over Bree before she swiftly checked herself.

She couldn’t avoid this man. And if he was away often, it would take her far longer to gain his trust and gather information from him. Her pulse quickened then. Was he off on one of his Shee-hunting expeditions to the Uplands? If so, she’d warn her people. She didn’t want to waste any of her cache of acorns, but Mor needed to be kept informed.

“Where are you going?” she asked lightly.

His mouth pursed, and for a moment, she thought he might refuse to answer—or reprimand—her. Instead, he replied, “Braewall.”

Bree affected a worried look. “I hope there isn’t any trouble down south,” she murmured. “I fear for my family.”

“There’s no trouble.”

Bree waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. Impatience bristled within her. If her husband was being tight-lipped about his trip south, there had to be a reason.

“In my father’s last missive, he mentioned that King Dunchadh of Braewall appears to be raising an army,” she said after a lengthy pause. “Isthisthe reason for the High King’s visit?”

Her husband’s gaze snapped to hers, and she caught the warning glint in his woad-blue eyes. A muscle in his jaw flexed, and a chill settled in the air.

Once again, she waited for an answer, but none was forthcoming.

“You seem tense, husband,” Bree noted eventually, swallowing her frustration. “Would you like a massage … all Maids of Albia are trained in the art of—”

“No.” Draining the last of his wine, mac Brochan pushed himself up from the table. “I’ve got work to do.” He gave a low whistle then. “Come, Skaal.”

The fae hound rose fluidly to her feet and followed her master as he left the alcove without a backward glance.

As he’d warned, mac Brochan departed early the following morning, rising before the first glimmer of dawn lit the eastern sky.

Bree didn’t bother trying to get up early to give him a morning show of the wares he’d yet to sample. Her seduction tactic hadn’t worked the morning before, so she was going to have to be subtler, craftier.

As such, today she employed a different approach. As soon as he rose from the furs, she got up too and hastily pulled on a tunic.

“Go back to bed, wife,” he ordered as she pulled a woolen shawl around her shoulders and padded over to the hearth, skirting Skaal’s large bulk. “It’s still early.”

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