That was not what this fake marriage was about. He was supposed to be offering her protection. Not fawning over her, drooling like a hungry lad starved for affection. This was becoming too much. She was too much.
Brogan let out a soft groan and rolled away from her to stare up at the ceiling. Then flopped his arm over his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep. To not think about her. To not think about how much she was changing him, or the subtle shifts he’d made in just one night. The fire had gone down low, but the room was warm. Too warm. He tossed the sheet aside, allowing the air in the chamber to touch all of his skin, and still he was hot. Mayhap it would be best to just get up, go outside, and cool off. But then if she woke from a nightmare and was looking for him to comfort her, he wouldn’t be there.
Och, why did he even care about that?
Days ago this woman had been out of his life. She’d abandoned him weeks prior, and now he was ignoring his own physical comfort in preference to a wife that wasn’t really his wife.
Ridiculous.
Sham marriage… He had to remember that.
Just when he was finally starting to drift off, a sharp, rapid knock sounded on the door, startling him.
Brogan’s eyes sprang open and he jumped to his feet, a rush of blood pumping through his veins. They were being attacked. They’d been found out. Behind him, Fiona bolted upright in bed, and when he glanced at her, he could see concern in her eyes bordering on fear.
Sorley’s voice came through the door. “Brogan, wake! They’ve taken to the forest with two of our horses.”
Brogan opened the door, realizing too late that he was completely naked. Sorley eyed him up and down, though somehow the lad managed to keep the judgment from his face.
“My clothes are drying, dinna look at me like that.”
With an eyebrow raised, Sorley nodded, a smirk on his lips.
Brogan ignored him. “Which two horses?”
“Yours and Fiona’s.”
“Do ye know who it was?” Brogan immediately thought of the man who’d questioned them two days ago, how he and his friends had continued to size them up. Bastards!
“Aye, we think some men from the tavern.” Sorley narrowed his eyes. “Can ye at least put on a sheet while we’re talking?”
A sheet landed on Brogan’s head, tossed from Fiona behind him, and he was quick to wrap it around his waist.
“I woke to the sound of the barn door closing. I got up to investigate, only to see them riding hell-for-leather. At first, I didna realize they’d taken our horses, but the way they rode so fast made me suspicious. We slept right through it, Brogan. All of us.” Sorley grimaced, punching his hands together in frustration.
“Damn,” Brogan muttered, anger surging through his limbs. How dare those jackanapes steal their horses right out from under their noses! And to think if he’d just gone outside to cool off like he wanted to, he might have been able to put a stop to it. Or they might have jumped him from behind. Either way, he’d have cracked a few noses and likely prevented the theft. Nay, he couldn’t think like that. Nothing good came from trying to place blame, even if the blame was on one’s self. Problems had to be solved, not ruminated over. “Let me dress and I’ll meet ye downstairs.”
Brogan made hasty work of tugging on his breeches, shirt, hose, and boots.
“I’m coming with ye,” Fiona said.
“Nay. Stay here where ’tis safe. We dinna know who they left behind and what plans they’ve made. I’ll no’ have another knife at your throat.”
“I’m no’ going to stay here while ye rush off to find our horses God knows where.”
Brogan straightened. “Aye, ye will, wife.” He said the latter in a reminder of why they’d pretended to wed to begin with. “Because the whole reason ye’re in my bed is so I can protect ye. If I dinna make it, ye still must.”
She pressed her lips together defiantly, and he wondered if she was going to listen to him or not. But at last she gave a sharp nod, and he left the chamber. Down in the tavern, several men still slept with their heads on the tables as if they’d simply fallen over during conversation. He touched one louse on the shoulder, shaking him slightly until the man stared up at him with his red and bleary eyes.
“What are ye waking me up for?” the man slurred, rubbing furiously at his eyes.
“Where are your friends?” Brogan asked, but the man only glowered. And so Brogan helped him up from the table by the scruff of his neck. “Where are they going with our horses?”
The man’s scowl deepened, and he shrugged, trying to escape Brogan’s hold and doing a little arm swing that did nothing to loosen himself.
“I dinna know what ye’re talking about. I have no friends here, and I certainly dinna know anything about any horses gone missing. Ye’ve got the wrong man.”
“Somebody knows something,” Brogan growled. “Which one of ye is going to talk?” He shook the man’s head by the hair. “I think the world could do with one less scoundrel.”
The bastard yelped, the defiance in him evaporating as he whined, “All I know is they thought ye were a good mark.”
Brogan muttered an expletive and resisted the urge to toss the worm into the wall. “Where did they go?”
“I dinna know. They didna tell me. I just overheard them talking about it. They waited till all the sounds from above grew quiet and then stole your horses.”
Brogan growled, staring hard into the man’s eyes, trying to decide if he wanted to snap his neck or toss him into the mud outside. The bloody whoresons had been listening to him and Fiona in their bed play. That made him want to commit murder.
He glanced at his remaining men who’d come in from the barn. “Sorley and Keith have already gone after the thieves. Saddle me a horse. I’m chasing them down, and hopefully our men have already located the bastards and taken back the horses.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and then Fiona appeared wide-eyed at the door’s opening. “What’s going on?”
Brogan somehow managed to keep his mouth from falling open. The wee wench had completely disregarded his orders to remain abovestairs. He vacillated between carrying her back upstairs after tossing her over his shoulder and telling her everything. Tossing her in the chamber seemed like a really good idea. He might even give her a smack to the bottom. Then again, why should he be surprised? She’d gone out of her way to let him know she was in charge of herself from the moment they’d first met.
“Brogan,” she said, snapping him out of his head.
Instead, he tried intimidating her with a glare and hoped she’d take the hint and march back upstairs. Which she did not. She’d heard what Sorley said upstairs, and to brush her off would be to ignore the large fact that she was a part of this group. That she’d seen more and done more than most men in this country. He wanted to protect her, for her not to know about thieves in the dark, but she already knew, and keeping anything from her would just be offensive. Besides, they had to trust each other. He wasn’t about to start lying to her now.