My Highland Bride (7 page)

“Colum!”

Colum clenched his teeth as Kenna jerked away, then quickly squirmed her way down out of his arms. Galen. That ill-timin’, interruptin’ son of a bitch. He’d snap the fool’s bloody neck if the squat bastard had one.

“Hie yerself, man! Mother Sinclair bids ye deliver the lass to the tower. The babe’s nearly here and the Lady Trulie cries out for her sister.” Galen hopped back and forth across the wide top step of the front entrance like a great toad unable to settle on the perfect log on which to sit.

Kenna patted Colum’s arm. “You heard him! Get me to Trulie.”

Colum deflated with a disappointed sigh. Life had suddenly gotten verra complicated indeed. Gritting his teeth against another wave of frustration, Colum grabbed hold of Kenna’s tiny hand and rushed her up the entry steps. “Come with me, m’lady.”

He shot a narrow-eyed glare to the stairwell leading to Lady Trulie and her grandmother. Now he knew why Gray had been so damned amused when the two women had assigned him this task. His chieftain knew he’d ne’er stand a chance once he felt the magic of a Sinclair woman’s touch.
Damn ye, Mother Sinclair. Damn ye, Gray MacKenna.

Lady Kenna hurried ahead of him. Still clasping his hand, she anxiously pulled him along. Her voice giddy with excitement, she yanked on his hand as she motioned toward the stairs. “This way, right? He said the tower.”

Colum’s heart melted, while at the same time his irritation grew.
Twice damn ye, Gray MacKenna, for snarin’ me arse in this inescapable trap.

Chapter 8

“She is so precious.” Kenna cradled the squirming bundle closer, soaking in the wonder and warmth of the treasured new life. She gently pressed the tip of her finger into the tiny outstretched hand. The baby grunted, then squeaked out a yawn as her wee fingers closed around Kenna’s and latched hold of her heart with a bitty squeeze. Her round little face was still red from the hard task of entering the world. Kenna eased down and sat on the edge of the freshly straightened bed. “Do you have a name picked out or shall we all just call her Princess?”

“Chloe.” Trulie settled wearily back into the nest of fresh pillows Granny had plumped behind her. She reached out and rubbed the back of one hand against Kenna’s arm. “It’s so good to see you again. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Kenna blinked fast against the happy tears stinging the corners of her eyes. The baby grunted and stretched, squirming in the depths of the soft blanket as though trying to find the most comfortable position.

“Okay, little Miss Chloe, I’m gonna hand you back to your mama now.” Kenna reluctantly settled the precious weight back in the crook of her sister’s arms. Smiling up into Trulie’s face, she carefully smoothed the back of one finger across the baby’s cheek. “Well done, Sis. Well done indeed.”

“I didn’t do it alone.” Trulie looked to Gray, smiling as he carefully settled down on the other side of her. “My fine chieftain had a little bit to do with it.”

“Aye. Verra little.” Gray cradled his daughter’s downy head in the palm of one hand and pressed a tender kiss to her brow. “Yer
máthair
worked verra hard a gettin’ ye here, m’dear wee daughter.”

Kenna quietly rose from the edge of the bed and eased a few steps away. She suddenly felt very much the intruder in the bonding of this brand-new family. If her trip to the past resulted in half the love and joy Trulie had found, she’d thank the Fates every single day and twice on Sundays.

Granny wrapped a spindly arm around her shoulders and squeezed hard. “Just look at you, gal. I have missed you so much. The fire portal didn’t do you justice.”

Kenna hugged Granny back and giggled. “The only way this reunion could get any better would be if Mairi and Lilia were here too.”

Granny’s smile faltered a bit as she shook a bent finger in the air. “Soon. This is your time now. Don’t be a wishin’ your life away. Soon enough it will be their time.”

Soon.
Granny had used that word a lot when they were all children. “Soon” was usually Granny’s way of gently saying no…or at least not right now. “Could you go into a little more detail about why exactly my time is now?”

Little Chloe headed off Granny’s response with a squeaking, high-pitched
rowr.

“Oh my, I think someone’s hungry.” Trulie peeled back the layer of blankets from Chloe’s waving arms and shifted the babe higher on her pillow.

“Kenna and I will go to the outer room. You don’t need an audience while you and the little one figure this out for the first time.” Granny turned Kenna toward the door and smiled back at Trulie. “Relax, gal. Just let instinct guide you. Chloe knows what to do.”

Granny closed the door softly behind them and motioned Kenna toward the bench and table on the other side of the room. “Sit, gal. I’ll pour you some water and order a meal sent up. I know you must be completely spent. It turned out to be a much longer night ushering little Chloe into the world than we expected. I had reckoned her arrival to come at sunset rather than sunrise.”

Kenna slid to the center of the bench and clasped her hands atop the table. Granny was right: she was exhausted. But she wasn’t too tired to realize that Granny was working up to one of her “talks.” Granny’s tone was a dead giveaway that a “This is what you’re gonna do” speech was imminent. Kenna shifted and tucked one leg underneath her. As she leaned her chin into her hand, an aching sense of weariness settled across her. The adrenaline and excitement of the past couple of days had run out, and she was about to crash. “I really think we should do this later. Aren’t you tired too? I think we could all use a few hours of pillow time.”

Granny poured a stream of crystal-clear water into the metal cup. She shook her head as she set it in front of Kenna. “I never get overly tired when it comes to bringing new life into the world.” Her face took on a sad, faraway look as she slowly lowered herself to the bench beside Kenna. “Especially when the outcome is as happy as this one turned out to be.”

Kenna sat straighter and clasped the cool metal cup between both hands. Granny was thinking about when Trulie and Gray lost their first child—and no doubt also about Mother. In the past, whenever Granny’s voice got all hollow and sad, she was remembering the day her own daughter had died bringing Mairi and Lilia into the world.

Kenna reached over and squeezed Granny’s hand. “You kept your word to Mother and Father both. Look how great we all turned out.” Granny had bravely jumped to the future with a twelve-year-old, a five-year-old, and a pair of sickly twins. Father had begged her to take his frail newborns to a time where they had a better chance at survival. Then he’d lowered himself down into the grave beside his wife and ordered his men to bury them both. Kenna had been only five years old at the time, but Granny had never attempted to hide the family’s past or the extreme nature of her parents’ love.

Granny smiled and shook her head sadly as she covered Kenna’s fingers with a trembling hand. “I like to think they’re watching over all of us. I hope they see what fine young ladies you’ve all become.”

Kenna sipped at the water, closed her eyes, and inhaled a deep cleansing breath. They’d all been through so much. Such was the legacy of a Sinclair time runner.

“So tell me, what did you think about our fine Colum Garrison?” The tip of Granny’s tongue raced across her faded lips as her thin brows arched to her hairline. She reminded Kenna a great deal of a starving cat preparing to pounce on a fat mouse. If Kenna didn’t know better, she’d swear Granny’s ears were perked forward with interest.

“So, he’s your plan for me.” Kenna pushed the cup away and climbed out from the bench. She should’ve known Granny would send the man she wanted her to marry to be the first one she met upon her arrival to the past. “Mind telling me why you picked him?”

“Why not him?” Granny folded her hands primly atop the table. Mischief glinted in her pale blue eyes as she leaned closer. “Have you touched him yet?”

“What do you mean have I touched him yet?” Kenna knew exactly what Granny meant, but she wasn’t about to let on that touching the man had given her a jolt like sticking her finger in a light socket—a hot, awesome, sexy jolt in a tingly oh-my-God kind of way. Kenna suppressed a shiver at the memory.

Granny’s smile widened and lit up her entire face. “So…you
have
touched him.”

“Why him, Granny? Easy question. Why did I have to toss modern conveniences and my two sisters aside to come back and marry this particular man?”

Granny shrugged. “Many reasons, but mainly because he’s the one who completes you.” Before Kenna could argue the point, Granny looped her arm through hers, pulled her away from the table, and led her out into the hall. “Come. We’ll discuss Colum later.” Her smile beamed brighter than the torches flickering through the narrow corridor as she nodded in time with her words. “Coira will see to your food and clothes. Once you’ve had time to rest, she’ll bring you down to the hall.”

“Hall?” Kenna didn’t like the sound of that. For some strange reason, she got the distinct impression she was about to be painted and primped, then put on parade like a prize heifer at the fair.

“As they say here in the Highlands—dinna fash yerself, lassie.” Granny hugged her close with a happy chortle. “All you need worry about is getting some sleep. Trust me. You’re going to need your rest for what lies ahead.”

Kenna blew out an uneasy breath.
Lovely.
She’d almost forgotten how complicated life got when Granny stirred the pot.

A cheerful humming broken with a string of slightly off-tune lyrics echoed from the stairwell. With a happy, chirruping end to her tune, a slight woman balancing a linen-covered tray between her hands flounced into the hall.

This had to be Coira. A friendly smile split her freckle-dusted face as she bobbed a quick curtsy to Kenna and tilted her head toward a closed door farther down the hallway. “A proper welcome to ye, mistress. Cook sends ye a fine meal to warm yer belly and send ye to yer dreams. Follow me and we’ll get ye settled. Master Colum’s already seen to the puttin’ of yer bags in yer room.”

Granny stifled a yawn as she patted Kenna’s arm. “I’ll leave you to Coira’s fine care.” She leaned a bit closer, pecked a quick kiss to Kenna’s cheek, then whispered, “It’s okay, she can be trusted. She knows all about us and our travels.”

Good to know.
Eliza had reminded her over and over about keeping her Sinclair legacy and abilities well hidden in the past. Kenna snorted out a yawn as she watched Granny toddle back down the hallway and disappear into another room. She hadn’t really needed Eliza’s reminder—Granny had drilled that warning into all of them before they were old enough to talk.

“Mistress? Be ye comin’?”

Kenna eased her way into the room, closing the heavy oak door softly behind her. Her back against the door, she slowly took in the plushness of the surroundings.
Nice…I didn’t expect this.
Tapestries saturated with rich, deep blues, greens, and burgundies hung along the widest wall of what looked to be a cozy sitting room. A vibrant scene of a unicorn standing beside a maiden with golden, flowing hair was centered between two smaller weaves depicting various animals: a pair of rabbits, a fox with kits, and what resembled an otter frolicking beside a stream in a flower-filled woodland.

A newly kindled fire crackled a cheerful welcome from the small hearth. The dark, polished wood of the walls gleamed with the dancing reflection of the golden flames. Coira wrapped her hand in her apron and used a black iron poker to better position the logs. “Come, mistress. Sit ye down and sup.”

Motioning to a small cushioned bench pulled up to a cloth-covered table, Coira settled the poker beside the hearth and buzzed about the intimate room like a bee pollinating a field of flowers. “Cook sent ye a pitcher of wine, but I brought ye a smokin’ hot bit of tea as well. I didna ken for sure, but I thought the tea might better suit ye. I know Mistress Trulie prefers such.”

“Hot tea sounds like heaven.” Kenna eased down on the bench and reached for the squat ceramic pot as a curling wisp of steam slowly rose from its spout.

“Nay, mistress.” Coira rushed over to the table, a disapproving scowl puckering her face. Wrapping her hand back in her apron, she scooped the handle of the pot out of Kenna’s grasp and smoothly poured a steaming cup of tea. “I’ve honey and cream as well. Both or just the honey? What d’ye fancy?”

Kenna clasped her hands in her lap to keep from helping herself. In one of their private chats through the fire portal, Trulie had explained that one of the greatest adjustments she’d had to make was being personally tended to from head to toe by the attentive and competent Coira. Kenna was beginning to understand what Trulie meant—being waited on felt strange. “I don’t take anything in my tea, thank you. I just like it smokin’ hot and straight.”

Coira’s reddish blonde brows arched to the fringe of coppery curls peeping out from beneath the white linen cap neatly tied beneath her chin. “Ye’ve no wish for honey nor cream to soften the bitterness of the brew?”

Kenna sipped in a taste, clamping her jaws tightly shut to keep from spitting as she lowered the cup to the table. “Wow. That’s some stout tea.” She could almost feel the enamel dissolving off her teeth.

“Aye.” Coira bobbed her head. “I feared Cook brewed it o’erly long, but she insisted ye needed a hearty batch to ease yer weariness.” Without waiting for Kenna’s reply, Coira poured a healthy dollop of cream into the cup. Then she untied a thick cloth from around the top of a small stone jar and carefully tipped it until a thick stream of amber ooziness swirled down into the hot liquid. “There now. Have ye a wee sip o’ that.”

Kenna hesitantly eased in another sip, holding the creamy, sweet warmness as long as possible on her tongue.
Perfect.
“Thank you. It’s lovely.”

Coira bobbed her head with an imperious nod that clearly said Kenna should’ve listened to her in the first place. “Whilst ye tended yer sister, I put yer things in order in yer room.” As she pulled apart what looked like a steaming square biscuit, she tilted her head toward an open doorway across the room. “Ye’ll find yer treasures and yer strange wee bags put away in the trunk at the foot of yer bed.” Coira then smeared a thick layer of what looked like clotted cream across the biscuit and set it on a small pewter plate. Sliding the plate directly in front of Kenna, she finished the treat by drizzling a healthy portion of the honey across the rich, creamy puddle soaking into the bread. “After ye’ve had time for a wee rest, I’ll be back up here to dress ye proper afore ye go down to hall. Here now. Eat yer bannock afore it grows cold.”