Heartless (The House of Rohan 5)

Noonan scowled. “How the hell should I know? I’ve been by your side the entire time we’ve been gone. Well, perhaps not the entire time, you randy dog, but enough so that I don’t know any more than you do.”

`“At this point I really don’t care.” Brandon was bone weary—too many days in the saddle. His bad leg had seized up, his bum ached, and he wanted sleep more than life itself. “We’ll find out in the morning. I’m for bed.”

Noonan nodded, thoughtful. “You go ahead, me boy. It’ll take me a while to settle down—you know how I get. I’ll have a wee dram, maybe go for a walk. There’s a bit of a moon tonight, and I’m feeling restless.”

“Suit yourself. Just don’t wake me when you go to bed.”

“You sleep like a winter bear—nothing wakes you. Get on with you now, and I promise not to slam my door when I come in.”

He was right about one thing, Brandon thought. He did sleep too heavily. If he didn’t, Emma wouldn’t have disappeared on him, twice now. Three times, if one counted the hospital. Every time he got too close she ran, and there was no way he could force her to stay. He was just going to have to hope he could change her mind.

He fell into his bed, his bones aching, his head pounding. It was better than sleeping on the ground, as he and Noonan had been doing the last few days, but only marginally so, and he remembered his own bed, back in London, and the woman who had lain beside him in it. Beneath him. He’d give decades off his life if he could have her in this narrow bed, in the cool damp air.

It wasn’t going to happen.

He woke late. He didn’t hear Noonan come in—for all he knew the man had been up past dawn, prowling around the estate, walking the hills, drinking whiskey in the cold night air, but he was up and stirring when Brandon wandered into the kitchen. “Where’s Tammas?”

Noonan looked up from the food he was cooking, and Brandon could see the bright gold of real Scottish eggs. He’d missed them.

“That fool dog? I haven’t seen him. Didn’t you leave him with the crofters over by Thorsby?”

“I did. I just thought that since some good fairy seemed to know when we were returning then maybe Tammas would be around as well.”

“Don’t be worrying about the damned dog,” Noonan said severely. “He’ll be back sooner or later—you can’t get rid of the things. Leave ‘em in the forest and they’ll beat you back home. Ridiculous creatures!”

Since Noonan was devoted to Tammas, as well as any other dog he happened across, Brandon didn’t bother arguing. “Eggs,” he said in a tone of satisfaction, heading for the table.

`“Not for you, my boy. I only found three and I’m hungry. You might want to go check the big house—someone’s been there, and that’s a fact.”

Brandon looked at the eggs longingly. “You’re my man—you take care of it,” he said, knowing what Noonan’s reaction would be.

The bark of laughter verified it. “And you can go fart in the wind, milord.”

“Coffee?” he asked plaintively. He had smelled it, he knew he had.

“Gone. Maybe you’ll find some down at yer big fancy house.”

Noonan was being odd, but Brandon didn’t give a damn. The old man was crotchety

, and argumentative, all fairly standard, but he seemed to be nursing a hidden amusement, and Brandon couldn’t begin to fathom why.

He bypassed the chair to move to the open window. Scotland had defied predictions and offered a watery light at the beginning of the day, and he might as well take advantage of it. “It’s not so big and fancy as all that, Noonan,” he said. “It hasn’t been opened in years, and moths and rodents have probably eaten into everything.”

“Mebbe not. You ought to check anyway.”

“It’s waited this long—it can wait till I swim. I need something to wake me up, since there seems to be no coffee,” he said pointedly.

“Suit yerself,” Noonan said amiably.

If he hoped the small stream would have warmed in the sun he should have known better. Stripping off his clothes, he slid into the icy water, striking out towards the middle before he could think better of it. Tammas usually swam with him, a water dog to his very soul, and once more Brandon wondered where he was. He had the best nose in three counties—he would know that they’d returned. Where was he?

The water was cold enough to freeze his balls off, and he only wished that was a possibility. At least numb them for the next few months or however long it took him to find Emma. He dove under the water, trying to shut his brain off and came up with a sputter. He was already numb, every part of him except the area he didn’t want to think about, and if he stayed in the burn’s icy embrace much longer he wouldn’t be worrying about a thing.

How demoralizing was that—to be found stark naked in a pool of water not much bigger than an ornamental pool on his sister’s estate in the Lake District? If he was going to die he’d at least hope for some dignity in the process.

But he had no intention of dying. Pushing himself out of the water, he shook like a wet dog, and the early morning air felt like a warm blanket after the near frozen water.

His chilled body felt better after the long days of riding, reminding him why this was such a good place for him. Even after the icy numbness wore off his leg was much more responsive to his demands.