My Highland Bride (30 page)

“I can’t.” Kenna rose from the small table that the MacKenna keep servants had carefully set with the private meal for two. She rubbed her arms against a nervous shiver and moved closer to the hearth. She did her level best to ignore the open door to the bedroom chamber. Kenna knew if she looked inside, she’d see the bed turned down—the big four-poster bed, with extra pillows and a privacy curtain hanging from the heavy oak frame. The perfect place for a bride and her new husband to…Kenna shivered again and stretched her hands toward the crackling fire.

A chair scraped across the floor. The slow, steadily approaching steps ratcheted Kenna’s heart rate up to breathless level. She inhaled deeply through her nose and slowly eased out the breath through tensed lips. She had to get a grip and calm down. Surely, it wouldn’t be all that bad. Of course, if she hyperventilated and passed out, she might postpone the eventual…Kenna ducked her chin and swallowed hard, but the dreaded thought refused to be silenced. If she passed out she might postpone tonight’s consummation of her agreement, but it would still happen at some point in time.

Kenna didn’t have to turn around to know Ronan stood mere inches behind her. His heat warmed against her back hotter than the blazing hearth before her. Kenna tensed as Ronan’s hand barely brushed against her hair. Now she knew how a snared rabbit felt waiting for the killing blow.

“Yer hair shimmers like the finest dark silk.” Ronan lifted the weight of her still damp curls off her neck. The heat of his breath tickled against the back of her ear as Ronan leaned in closer. Kenna closed her eyes and begged for guidance. How in the world was she going to get through this?

She nearly squeaked when Ronan brushed the lightest of kisses along her bare shoulder and up the nape of her neck. Kenna licked her lips and swallowed hard. She’d hold her breath, keep her eyes closed, and think of something else. That would do it. Granny always said the mind was the safest refuge.

Ronan’s hands slid to her shoulders and he slowly turned her to face him. “Do ye fear me?”

“N-no,” Kenna stammered. She cleared her throat and stood taller. “No. I do not fear you.”

The steel of Ronan’s eyes had grown dark. His thoughtful expression shifted to an unreadable mask as he pulled Kenna closer. His muscled chest flexed hot beneath her hands as she steadied herself in his arms.
Oh Lordy. Here he goes.
Kenna held her breath.

Ronan slid the back of one finger along the curve of Kenna’s jaw. The furrow deepened between his dark brows as he cocked his head to one side. “Ye must breathe, lass. I assure ye, ye will need to breathe before all that is about to take place this night is said and done.”

Damn him.
Kenna exhaled in such a controlled breath she thought her lungs would surely explode. “I’m not holding my breath.”

The corners of Ronan’s mouth curled with a faint sad smile that didn’t reach his unreadable eyes. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss that Kenna thought would never end. Then he stepped away, clasped his hands behind his back, and lowered his gaze to the floor. “Go to our bed, Kenna.” Ronan glanced toward the opened door of the bedchamber, then returned his attention to the floor.

Kenna tensed her hands into clammy fists buried in the folds of her skirts. So this was it. He wanted her to go in there, strip down, and get ready for him. Her stomach flip-flopped with an anxious gurgle. Well, maybe it would be better that way. After all, wasn’t foreplay just for lovers?

Kenna rushed past him. After she was through the door, she closed it just enough to have a little privacy as she undressed. She paused, her trembling hand resting on the latch as the sound of Ronan’s steady pacing sounded like the slow rhythmic ticking of a doomsday bomb. Maybe he wanted to get this over with as much as she did.

Kenna pulled open one door of the wardrobe, then froze. Either Trulie or Granny had placed the sheer nightdress Kenna had painstakingly sewn for her wedding night with Colum on the peg inside the wardrobe. Hot tears stung her eyes as she closed them and turned away. With an angry swipe of one hand across her damp cheek, she sniffed against the threat of the emotions spilling down her face. No. She had made the right choice for the right reason. She’d be damned if she made herself even more miserable by rehashing all she had lost.

With shaking hands, Kenna yanked free the laces and hooks running along the bodice of her dress. She loosened the shoulders enough to push it down around her waist and undo the remainder of the laces. The hot coals shimmering in the hearth across the room did little to dispel the chill settling through her. Her skin flushed pink and gooseflesh rippled across her arms as she shook out the dress and hung it in the wardrobe.

A pang of uncertainty stayed her hands as she reached for the delicate nightdress. Kenna finally released a shuddering sigh, dropped her hands limp to her sides, and stepped back. No. She couldn’t wear the gown she had envisioned Colum admiring and smoothing away from her body with an exciting caress. It would be just one more reminder she didn’t need right now. She’d face this emotional battle as bare as the day she was born.

Kenna pulled free the delicate hand-carved combs holding back her hair and set them on a small table filled with flickering candles. She frowned at the thick white pillars and the golden glow of each dancing flame. Maybe she should blow them all out now. She really didn’t want to be able to see what was about to happen. She wet her fingertips and pinched out the flames of all but one. There. Much better. With the light of the hearth and this one candle, Ronan would be able to find his way to the bed, but everything else would be pretty much hidden in the shadows. Perfect.

Kenna clambered across the fluffy expanse of the monstrous bed.
Ronan may never find me in this thing.
Kenna squelched the wishful thought with a despairing sigh, scooted back against the mountain of pillows, and pulled the covers up to her throat.

“Ronan. I’m ready.” A hysterical giggle nearly broke free. Who was she kidding? She would never be ready for this.

A golden path of light widened across the floor as the bedroom door slowly swung open. Ronan stood in the doorway, his hand resting on the latch. Kenna couldn’t quite make out his expression in the shadows, but she got the distinct impression that his face was filled with sorrow. Ronan didn’t say a word. He just stood there, staring at her from across the room.

Kenna chewed the corner of her bottom lip. What the devil was he waiting on? The quicker he got on with it, the quicker it would be over. Hopefully. The horrifying thought of Ronan dragging this thing out for hours tightened another set of knots in her stomach.

“I will ne’er take from ye more than yer ready t’give. Sleep well, Kenna.” Ronan quietly backed out of the room and pulled the door closed behind him.

Chapter 35

The sun crested the farthest peak as he lunged forward, swinging the heavy blade in a deadly arc. His guttural roar shattered the stillness of the morning, then he buried the sword deep in the practice pole. The solid impact shuddered through him, embracing him for the deadly warrior he had once been and was quickly becoming again.

He’d lain awake for most of the night, pondering Mother Sinclair’s words and pairing them with the Lady Trulie’s reasoning about his slow-healing injuries.
“Self-pity is a crippling, useless emotion. Man up,”
the old woman had said.
“Only you can heal your heart and soul,”
Lady Trulie had advised. And so, he’d decided to test their wisdom, see if their words were true. Hefting the sword free of the pole, he effortlessly swung it above his head, spinning the weapon back and forth between his hands with fluid ease.
Aye. I will be whole again. I will regain my strength.

Colum rolled his shoulders and flexed both arms as he circled the worn caber in the center of the practice field where MacKenna warriors learned how best to use their weapons. A cold sense of determination filled him as he worked the muscles of the arm that was once so stiff.
Aye. The Sinclair women kent the truth of it.
The elbow now bent as though never injured.

Releasing his fury into an enraged growl, Colum spun on one foot, then kicked upward with his scarred leg, landing the sole of his boot hard against the practice pole. Wood splintered and groaned as the caber slowly teetered to one side. A satisfying pop sounded as Colum landed a second kick that sent the heavy column of wood bouncing across the ground. He was whole again. His muscles burned, and it felt damn good.

Colum slaked the sweat from his forehead as he turned and headed toward the stable. Sutherland had said they’d leave at first light, head back to Draegonmare keep. Colum pumped his arms across his body, flexing the fire of determination through his veins. The bailey was too quiet this morning. If they’d already left, he’d have to ride hard to circle around them and wait at the narrow passage between the twin ridges. There, with God and the Highlands as his witness, he’d serve justice to Ronan Sutherland for all the man had taken from him.

He shoved open the stable door. A quick glance down the far side of the stalls returned him to the cold dead calm of the practice field. Sutherland’s horses were still in their stalls and his men had barely stirred where they slept with slack-jawed abandon in piles of hay.

Good. He and Rua would make it to the pass in good time. ’Twould still be on MacKenna land, but it wouldna stir nearly so much trouble as it would if he killed the man inside the walls of the keep. Gray was like a brother and a good and fair chieftain. Honor forbade Colum from bringing trouble down upon the clan. He’d end this in the Highlands—alone.

“Are ye ready for a wee bit of a ride, m’friend? ’Tis time we leave this place and seek our peace and resolution in the Highlands.”

Rua rumbled with a disgruntled shake of his shaggy head and stepped out of reach. Each time Colum reached for his bridle, the horse sidestepped away.

Colum thumped his fist atop the opened stall door. Damn the stubborn horse. Now was no’ the time for the beast’s foolish games. “Rua. Come t’me. Now.”

Rua tossed his head with a teasing up-and-down bob. He huffed out a daring snort, then scraped the ground with a slow meaningful stomp. His glistening black nostrils flared wide as he bared his teeth and nickered again.

“If ye snot me, I swear I’ll skin ye. Now come t’me, Rua. ’Tis time we left MacKenna keep.”

“So you’re a coward then? Afraid to fight for what is rightfully yours?”

The quiet voice from the shadows of the tack room stood the hairs on the back of his neck on end. Mother Sinclair. Colum sucked in a deep breath. He was damned tired of her meddling in his life. “ ’Tis none of yer affair, old woman. I advise ye ta leave me be.”

“I’ll show you ‘
old woman.’ ”
Granny’s walking stick connected in a sharp upward strike hard across his buttocks. The stinging thwack lifted him to the balls of his feet.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that ever again. You are not too old to have some manners knocked into you, and I’m not afraid to be the one to do it. Is your memory of my previous offer to send your ungrateful ass to the future already faded?”

Dammit, he was tired of Granny smackin’ his arse as though he were a bullheaded lad. Colum turned just as Granny raised the staff again. Righteous fire flashed in the old woman’s eyes as she spread her stance and choked up on the walking stick as though preparing to knock him out of the stable.

Colum raised a hand to deflect the threat and backed against the stall. Damn, the woman was stout for one so old. He flexed his arse against the fading sting of her last hit. “I beg yer pardon. Yer right, Mother Sinclair. I meant no disrespect.” Lore help him if that damn staff started to glow again. He had no desire to be sent to some dark unknown future.

Granny slowly lowered the stick, but kept it clenched in front of her slight body as she straightened from her attacking crouch. “Apology accepted.” Granny nodded toward Rua. “I heard what you said about leaving MacKenna keep. You can’t run from this, and I can’t believe you’re even going to try. Face it. Know it. Resolve it.”

“I am no’ runnin’.” Colum bent and picked up the leather sack of provisions he’d packed for the journey. He didna have the time nor the inclination to explain his plan to Mother Sinclair. The old she-dragon would ken the truth of things soon enough.

“She did it for you, you addlepated numpty! She traded her life for yours. You witnessed it yourself.” Granny scowled and thumped the end of her cane against the dry, hard-packed earth. “She won’t tell you the whole story about her sham of a marriage and neither will any of the others, but I’ll be damned if I keep my mouth shut and watch my granddaughter fritter her life away on a man who doesn’t deserve her.”

Colum was no’ entirely sure what “fritter” meant, but he had a pretty good idea. He wound the leather straps of the provision bag around the horn of the saddle, held one strap tight in his teeth, and yanked the other strap hard into a secure knot. Mother Sinclair needed to leave him be. He had to make it to the pass well before Sutherland and his men.

“So that’s it. You’re just going to abandon her? Leave her when she needs you the most?” Granny glared at him over the rims of her spectacles, her thin lips flattened into a disapproving frown.

Colum worked his thumb against the reins wound about his hand. Why would the old woman no’ let him be? He didna have time to explain nor listen to all her nattering. Best let Mother Sinclair believe that he’d accepted the situation for what it was. Maybe then she’d go the hell away. “Lady Sutherland—”
Lore a’mighty that name nearly chokes me.
Colum sucked in a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Lady Sutherland has no need for a man such as me. She has her husband. She will soon have children. Let it go, Mother Sinclair.”

Granny’s shoulders slumped and her gaze lowered to the ground. She shook her head and eased out a shaking sigh as she slowly turned away. “Fine. I’ll go to Gray. Maybe he’ll have enough gumption to stand up to the man who’s a danger to my granddaughter. Chieftain Sutherland has agreed to stay here one more night for Kenna’s sake. Gray will see to it that she’s removed from harm.”