The Kindling Heart (17 page)

A slight sound caused him to turn. Bree stood a short distance away on the path, hair hanging in damp curls down her back. The poor lass appeared wan and tired with the day just starting. Behind her, he could see Merry joining with a slow limp.

He clenched his jaw.

The women under his care were suffering. They watched him, nervously, as he guided Jenna from the dairy and down to the loch.

Morning fled into afternoon as he offered comfort and simply listened to his sister. They spent the time walking through the village and surrounding fields. She found it difficult to stay still.

He’d vowed to see to Jenna and the child’s welfare from the moment she’d tearfully confessed her condition. He’d make good that promise, though he was sore pressed on how it might be done. He had nothing left. Robert would help, but he had never accepted anything from the man other than his love.

It was late when he finally saddled his horse and rode with Jenna to her tiny croft some distance away. He saw her fed and settled into a deep sleep before slowly making his way back to Dunvegan. He pondered the future. With Sean not there to help, Jenna could not manage the small croft alone. He’d barely stepped foot in the courtyard when Effric pounced upon him.

“Ruan,” she smiled, plucking his arm. “I’ve missed ye.” Her lashes lowered.

Ruan studied her with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. He’d pitied Effric when she first arrived. That hadn’t lasted long. The new Lady of Dunvegan had soon proven manipulative and despicable in her own right. She’d pursued him from their first meeting, steadfastly refusing to believe his lack of interest was genuine. Then, she became mad and he, along with the entire clan, had largely forgotten her. Yet, there was still something to pity, he reminded himself. Being wed to Tormod was too harsh a punishment for any crime.

“Ye could be laird soon!” Effric whispered, blocking his way. “Did ye hear? There is only Michael and Gerland in the way now. Andrew and his son are gone now—”

“Aye,” Ruan interrupted with a frown. “Their deaths have naught to do with me!”

“But there are only three others in yer way now, and—” she said, placing her hands on his chest.

“How can ye speak so?” Ruan thundered, pushing her away.

Effric’s lips thinned into a white line, “Eager to see yer new whore, are ye?”

Bree. In the past few hours, he hadn’t spared the lass a single thought. Jenna’s anguish had been his main concern. While fighting the MacDonalds, he’d only remembered his deathly ill, newly made wife, on occasion. By far, staying alive had been his most pressing concern.

No, the only thought that had crossed his mind about her had been a certainty that his return would find her dead.

He hadn’t been in the least prepared to meet the startling green eyes, sooty lashes, and thick brown hair. Aye, she was a lass who could stir his blood should he permit it. He winced. Where was his control, his promise to himself that he’d walk away from all females before he turned into another version of his father?

He looked at his hands, fearing the violence that lay in them.

“Ruan?”

Effric’s shrill voice brought him to the present. She was frowning, tugging at his sleeve, struggling between what seemed like anger and the desire to seduce him. “Come with me.” She whispered.

Her prying fingers slithered down to slide under his plaid. He extricated her hand and released an exasperated breath. In the past, she’d pursued him with vigor like no other. He’d thought the matter done. Grasping her shoulders, he swung her about and threatened, “I’ve no interest in ye. I never will. I swear, lass, I never have!”

“But, ye can, if ye try!” she whispered, rubbing provocatively against his chest.

The lass truly was daft, there was no other explanation. “But I dinna want ye,” he growled, shoving her back roughly.

“Is it Bree?” Effric snarled, her nostrils flaring.

Recalling Bree’s hysteria the night before, he drew himself to his full height and said sternly, “Be ye mad or no, Effric, ye’ll nae be harming Bree. If ye do, I’ll lock ye in a tower myself. That, or send ye back to your father. Aye, and after last night, I’ll be having ye watched day and night to prevent further mischief!”

Effric choked, turning chalk white. She glared at him briefly before scurrying away.

He wondered if she could be dangerous, or if he’d been too harsh. He’d have Ewan keep an eye on her in order to keep Bree safe. He smiled, recalling the fierce expression on Bree’s face as she’d wielded the trencher to protect Merry. It had been a foolhardy act, but a brave one. Aye, he’d known from the beginning the lass had heart. Her demeanor was quiet, but she was far from weak.

Catching his smile, Ruan frowned. What was he doing? Lollygagging over a lass? No. He was done with women. They had caused him naught but trouble, and he’d do best to remember it.

“Ruan, love,” Isobel’s cheery voice called out from behind. “Robert bids ye come.”

He fell into step at her side, gallantly hefting her basket onto his shoulder.

“Robert’s told me a bit of the doings,” she said in a low voice. "That yer brothers are trying to slay ye.”

Ruan caught his breath. The words were stark, cold, and he didn’t want to hear them. “I don’t know that for certain.” His protest sounded weak even to his own ears. He heaved a sigh. “Aye, well, Tormod has reason now. He’s of a mind I rescued Merry to split the clan.”

“Then, he’s a fool,” Isobel snorted. “Ye split the clan long afore that and he’s a fool nae to know it.”

Ruan stared in surprise.

“Can ye nae see it, lad?” she said with a smile. She raised her withered hand to caress his cheek. “Aye, there’s nae a heart that does nae want ye as The MacLeod.”

“Be done!” Ruan took a deep breath. “I’ll have no more talk of this, ‘tis far too dangerous!”

Isobel shrugged, unperturbed.

He found her reaction disconcerting. Deliberately switching the subject, he said, “Merry seems happier. At times, I can almost see her as she was, before…”

“Aye,” Isobel smiled. “She’s pinned to Bree like a needle in a cloth. Now, she’s a lass and no mistake.”

“Merry can do no wrong in your eyes,” Ruan said fondly. “I should be jealous she has taken my place in your heart.”

“Oh, I love our wee one, too,” Isobel chuckled. “But lad, I was speaking of Bree. The wonders she has done with our Merry, in her own, quiet way.”

Ruan blinked in surprise. Apparently, Isobel had fallen under Bree’s spell as well. Suddenly, he recalled her curves and soft skin under his. To his horror, his cheeks tinged a slight pink. He shifted uneasily. He was much too old to blush over a woman.

Isobel reached over and tweaked his ear, “Robert’s waiting for ye, love.”

With that, she snagged her basket and lumbered off, leaving him standing there. He was perturbed on many accounts.

Slowly, and with a great sense of forbidding, he entered the room.

The exchange with Robert was alarming. Several respected elders of the clan stood by his uncle’s side, all of them urging Ruan to rise against his remaining brothers, to slay them first before they succeeded in killing him. He didn’t want to hear them. He still didn’t want to believe his kin wanted his blood and he didn’t want to see Robert agreeing in his own quiet way with a simple nod. That Robert wished him to wage bloodshed on his own kin was simply too much to think of now.

With a pounding head, he quitted the chamber, making his way to the great hall.

Tormod was already there, sprawling at the high table. His attention was riveted to the back of the room. Following his gaze, Ruan spied the object of his fascination, and his blood began to boil.

Bree sat quietly at a table at the far end, keeping her own company, and speaking to no one.

Hackles rising, Ruan strode to the high table, planting himself to block the man’s vision.

Tormod had the grace to appear guilty, though he tried his best to cover it.

Neither spoke.

Tormod simply slouched, fumbling for his cup.

Ruan turned away. He’d have to have Ewan keep an eye on Tormod as well, though surely, even his brother wouldn’t be so rash as to act on his lust for Bree.

Bree didn’t notice his approach; she sat by herself, toying with her food.

He’d experienced a wide range of emotions upon waking to find her asleep in his bed. She’d been curled in the tightest and most uncomfortable ball he’d ever seen. Again, his lips quivered upwards as he recalled her horror. She’d been utterly dismayed to be in his bed where so many other women had smiled in triumph. He blinked, catching his line of thought.

Aye, the lass had every right to be dismayed. Though he no longer viewed women as playthings, how could any respectable woman believe that he didn’t? He winced, recalling he’d been drunk as well, another weakness of the past. He was done with the stuff. Fervently, he vowed never to let another drop of whiskey pass between his lips again. Surely, he hadn’t taken advantage of her.

Less confident, he slowed his advance, wondering if he should just leave.

“Ruan!” Merry skipped by, clasping his sleeve and pulling him forward.

Reluctantly, he allowed Merry to guide him to the table and cautiously took his place next to Bree. She tensed, but not enough to indicate he’d misbehaved. He found himself relaxing straightway.

Merry chattered, for the most part to Bree. His attention wandered to the men filing in. The majority of them spoke of the raids. Robert appeared to say a few words for the fallen and sent Ruan a look.

Ruan tightened his jaw, ignoring his uncle’s unspoken question. He was not ready to wage war on his own kinfolk, regardless of their actions.

His half-brother Michael had arrived with his son, Gerland. It was odd to see them there, as they rarely visited Dunvegan. However, with Tormod childless, and the recent deaths, Dunvegan could soon be theirs.

Ruan leaned back, clasping his hands behind his neck. Tormod hated Michael almost as much as Michael hated him. It was with a healthy dose of amusement that he watched the brothers sit together at the high table, neither enjoying the company of the other.

They murmured amongst themselves for a time and then, as one, they lifted their eyes to settle on Bree.

Ruan tensed.

They were up to nothing good. Judging by their demeanor, Bree was in the center of it. He scowled, settling deeper in his seat. He could not leave the lass alone, not now.

Someone filled his cup and he absently picked at the food placed before him. At first, few shared their table, but as time passed, the crowd around them grew. The first two men asked his opinion on a dispute concerning sheep. He gave it. Several others arrived, probing what he’d do about a well run dry, caused by another diverting a stream. Another man accused his neighbor of stealing an axe, and it took quite some time before the matter was peacefully resolved. Others dropped by, to ask his opinion on some concern.

After he’d given his thoughts on the fifth matter, he paused, becoming aware of what he had been doing. These clansmen were having him settle their disputes, treating him as if he were the laird. It seemed an unwise and dangerous thing for them to do, given that Tormod and Michael were mere feet away.

Robert sat nearby, studying him quietly, a smile playing about his lips.

Abruptly, Ruan stood, tired of the entire situation. Snagging Bree, he pulled her from the hall. She kept up with him quietly and once in his chamber, stood warily by the door, as if ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

“I’ll nae harm ye,” he said, breaking the awkward silence between them. She didn’t believe him, of that, he was certain.

Mercifully, Merry had followed.

Bree was relieved when Merry slipped into the room.

While she was grateful for Ruan’s protection in the hall, in the small space of the bedchamber, she was ill at ease to be alone with him. She was still unsure what he thought of her. Her ears tinged red every time she recalled the way she had awoken under him that morning. Now, in his presence, she could feel the color creeping on her neck.

Why was he filling so much of her thoughts of late? It must be the shock of the entire situation. There could be no other explanation.

Merry’s arrival distracted her from further thoughts and Ruan gave his full attention to his little sister. He proceeded to stoke the fire and regale her with stories. He could tell a good tale and had obviously spent much time doing so.

The young girl brightened and giggled, skipping to the bed to slide under a warm plaid next to Bree. It was peaceful and they both grew comfortably drowsy, listening to the lilt of Ruan’s voice long into the night.

Bree awoke early the next morning, slowly propping herself on one elbow. Merry was stretched out next to her, in the middle of the bed, dark curls framing her healing face. On the other side of Merry, Ruan lay on his back with his forearm tucked under his head. His slow, rhythmic breathing announced he was asleep, and she indulged in her curiosity to inspect him closely once more.

He was quite handsome and in spite of her best efforts to the contrary, she was beginning to think him gallant.