Page 66 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander
“Ye dinnae ken anything. Nothing is goin’ on. At least nae yet.”
“Yet?”
“Dinnae even try to change the subject, Brodrick. I ken what ye’re tryin’ to do. Now, tell me, what did ye say to Ava?”
The despair returned to Brodrick’s voice, and judging from the way Flora kept looking at him, it had returned to his face as well.
“Nothing.”
“Nae nothing. She had the same look on her face that ye have now.”
“I said, nothing.” Brodrick’s voice was sharp, commanding, and almost harsh.
Flora sighed, throwing her hands up in frustration.
“I dinnae care what expression she has on her face. ‘Tis her problem. Nae mine.”
Flora nodded. “’Tis all right, I suppose. I can just remain in the dark, since nay one wants to tell me anything.”
Brodrick remained seated anyway, unmoved by her words.
“The Lairds are beginnin’ to arrive. And I’ve asked the maids to direct them to their rooms. I suppose I should tell ye that.”
Brodrick nodded.
The cèilidh would start soon. The more lairds were around, the easier it was to put his plan in motion. For now, he just needed to lie in wait and watch.
“I shall go see how the kitchens are gettin’ on.”
Brodrick only nodded.
He watched as his sister stood there, waiting as if he was planning on saying something else. As if he wanted to drop a confession on her. But he said nothing. He only gave her a pointed look that quickly turned irritated when she didn’t budge.
“I shall leave ye be, I suppose,” Flora muttered and turned around.
Brodrick watched in silence as she made her way back to the door. She pulled it open and stepped into the hallway. Right as she was about to shut the door behind her, she turned back and gave him one last look.
“I suppose I should tell ye this as well—Laird Moore is here.”
Brodrick’s eyes widened. “Laird Moore?”
“He’s in the Great Hall,” Flora added.
Brodrick leaned back in his seat as she closed the door behind her. For good this time.
He scanned the parchment on his desk one more time before rising. He did not think he was going to step out of his study anytime soon, but with Murdoch Blaine around, he had to sacrifice his brief solitude.
He needed to talk to him.
He took one last look at his study before heading out.
As his sister had said, Laird Moore was indeed in the Great Hall. He was seated at a table in the corner, his usual mask fastened to his face, watching the festivities. Brodrick sighed and walked closer to him, taking a few deep breaths.
“Murdoch Blaine,” he greeted, grabbing one of the chairs strewn across the hall.
Laird Moore looked up, his grey eyes studying him as he moved closer. “Brodrick Culloch,” he returned in a deep voice.
“Thank ye for comin’.”
