“What do you plan to do, then?” Phillip and Jake looked to Broc, expectation on their faces. “You won’t be with us much longer, I wager, knowing how eager you were to get back to your business concerns,” the laird added.

“Aye, that is true.” Broc waited until Sarah finished examining the healing wound across his chest and down his torso. It still stung from time to time but over a week had passed since Randall had opened him up.

“You’ll be all right, it looks as though you were well cared for.” Was it his imagination, or was she smiling in a knowing fashion?

What did she know?

“I was,” he confirmed, sliding the tunic back down until he was covered. “And I got lucky the man was too enthused over the idea of killing me to put any real force behind his strike. He might have been intent on dragging things out, come to think of it.”

“You served him well,” Jake muttered, his eyes dark.

“Aye. He deserved what he got,” Phillip added.

“I do believe you should spend at least a few days with us,” Sarah advised. “Rest. Regain your strength after such a long journey. You’ll have another few days of hard riding ahead of you before reaching Kirkcaldy, after all.”

She was smiling again in that knowing way. Who had told her whatever it was she’d heard? He knew she’d already treated Hugh’s shoulder, which appeared to have healed as well as his own wound had, as well as Derek.

“I have quite a bit I need to tend to,” he countered.

“Yes. I know you do.” She all but winked as she left the room, humming to herself.

Women.

“What was that about?” Jake asked, looking to his brother.

Phillip merely shrugged, looking as lost as the others. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my wife, it’s not to ask such questions.”

* * *

It was a beautiful day, the morning after their arrival. Broc had spent much of the previous day resting, as per Sarah’s strict orders.

Resting and waiting for her. Looking for her.

It made sense that Beatrice would spend all the time she could with Margery, who he hadn’t yet seen since returning. It wasn’t his place to interrupt, especially when the two of them had so much to talk about. He’d heard laughter coming from down the corridor more than once and was glad.

Though in his heart, he wanted to be the one to make her laugh that way.

There was still a sadness about her, the same sadness he’d seen back in Silloth, before he’d left her at the inn. As though a wall existed between them.

Even though he’d declared his love for her, though they’d spent countless hours talking quietly the way he’d seen his friends do with their wives, even though he’d kissed her and held her in his arms, the wall was still present. The sadness still in her eyes, in her voice.

He knew not the words to use nor how to ask what it was that made her sad. It had been difficult enough to express his love, and then, he’d been certain he was falling short, that he sounded daft and clumsy.

How could he bring himself to ask her why she seemed to pull away from him, when he couldn’t find a way to tell her that she was his entire world?

He finally understood what he’d never understood before. His friends seemed happy, besotted with their brides. He’d only thought he knew why they seemed to forget the things which had once mattered more than anything.

Especially Derek.

Not that he’d do what Derek did. He wouldn’t give up being active in the shipping business. He had loved it before he loved her. It was all he knew, the only thing he’d ever done. How could he hope to provide for a wife without a way to make his living?

But if she didn’t wish to be part of his life, of that life…

Was that what upset her so?

He splashed his face with water from the basin in his chambers and put on a clean tunic and trousers. It was a relief, having clean clothing at his disposal, and to look forward to the morning meal prepared by the cook.

Even so, he was eager to be on his way. To start building something for himself.

It would be nothing without her.

She was all that was on his mind as he walked down the stairs. Perhaps they would cross paths that morning, she had to eat sometime.

She wasn’t downstairs, though Dalla and Heather were. They greeted him happily, cheerfully.

Heather looked him up and down. “You’re looking well, we had a fright when Beatrice described how you’d been wounded.”

Beatrice had spoken with all of them, it seemed. Everyone but him.

He looked about himself. “Have you seen her this morning?” he asked, hoping to sound as though it mattered little.

Did Heather know her smile was so like her sister’s? “She finished her meal early and was going out for a walk when I came down.”

Suddenly, he didn’t care so much for eating. His stomach tied itself in knots.

He told himself the lasses weren’t laughing behind him as he walked away, but it wasn’t true. It seemed everyone knew there was something between them and found it amusing.

Was this how the others felt when they’d first fallen in love? As though everyone around them whispered and chuckled to each other? The slightest questions suddenly had deeper meaning.

There were more important things to consider, he reminded himself as he stepped out into the fresh morning air. Such as what he would say to the lass if he managed to catch up to her.