Page 50 of Bound By Deception

And yet, he was also handing her an opportunity. Maybe, if she engaged his sympathy, she’d draw him in.

“I was lonely at the House of Maids,” she finally replied. Indeed, the entries after Fia’s disappointment at not being chosen by the wool merchant had been tinged with melancholy and a growing sense of hopelessness. “I felt cut off from my family … and one by one, my friends all left.”

The chief-enforcer grunted at this, his gaze flicking to where a lump of peat glowed in the hearth. It had been a cool day with heavy grey skies, and despite that they were now in early summer, the air was cold and damp inside the broch.

“It’s best to make friends with loneliness,” he said after a pause, still not looking her way. “The only person you can truly count on is yourself, anyway.”

Bree stilled. Iron choke her, she didn’t like to admit she had anything in common with this man. And yet, how many times over the years had she told herself those words?

Like her, Cailean mac Brochan was a lone wolf.

Pushing aside the discomforting realization, Bree focused on the warrior-druid seated by the fire. “That’s cynical,” she replied finally. “Surely, there are those you trust within these walls?”

Mac Brochan’s gaze cut her way, his lips compressing.

“What about Torran?”

Her husband snorted.

“But you two seem to be … friends.”

“Aye, but that doesn’t mean Itrusthim.”

“That makes for a cold and empty life.”

He shrugged. “Aye, just the way I like it.”

Silence fell then. And once again, Bree felt an unwelcome feeling of kinship with this man. It took a rare individual to be comfortable with being alone. She’d met few, besides herself, who’d mastered it.

Deciding, it was best to let their conversation lapse—for it was making her increasingly uneasy—Bree glanced down at the diary she’d just opened. This entry was in late winter, only a moon’s turn before The Day of the Hag. And here, finally, there was mention of Cailean mac Brochan.

Mother Gelda called me in to see her today.

A letter has arrived from the High King’s chief-enforcer. He wishes for a wife and has asked her to select a suitable woman for him.

She has chosen me!

Apparently, he is too busy to make the trip here to meet me first. Instead, he told her that he wishes for a sweet, obedient woman who will not make too many demands on him.

Mother Gelda thinks I am the perfect choice.

I’m excited, of course … relieved that I’ve finally been chosen. But there is also a part of me that wonders why he wouldn’t make the trip here. Surely, he wants a bride he finds attractive?

Maybe that doesn’t matter to him.

I must admit that I’m nervous. The chief-enforcer! The most formidable of all the warrior-druids. The rumors tell of a terrifying brute of a man who is shadowed by a fae hound.

My heart quails at the thought of such a beast. It’s said that if it howls thrice, the sound will stop your heart.

However, I must be brave. I will write to my husband-to-be and tell him I am looking forward to becoming his wife. Hopefully, he will write back, and we will establish a relationship of sorts before we meet.

Bree stopped reading and glanced up once more, taking in her husband’s sharp profile. She wondered then, what Fia would have made of him, had they met.

22: FLEETING INTIMACY

“THE FIRST THING you must learn are the weak spots of a man’s body.” Bree faced Mirren in the center of the chief-enforcer’s alcove. They’d pushed the table back against the wall to give themselves some space. It was mid-morning, and no one was likely to disturb them for a while.

However, Bree wasn’t in the mood for giving lessons. She didn’t need to provide mac Brochan with another reason to be suspicious of her. She’d awoken early, tense and ill-tempered, with a nagging sense of failure.

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