The Kindling Heart (28 page)

Passing under the open gatehouse, they had scarcely stepped foot in the courtyard before they were accosted by an angry man, with grizzled gray hair and a lacework of scars over his left brow. “Ruan!” he shouted. He placed his hand menacingly on his dirk as he added, “How dare ye come here, after what ye’ve done!”

Ruan’s brows climbed in surprise, “And what do ye mean by that, Dougald?”

“As if ye dinna ken!” The man shouted, his chin trembling.

A small crowd began to gather, eyeing them with interest.

“Ach, well…” Ruan knit his brows. “I’m at a loss—”

“Ye’ll wed my daughter, my Sheila, this very night!” Dougald raised his dirk, brandishing the blade. “I’ve no desire to harm ye, lad, but I will if ye don’t make this right! I’ve always thought ye a man of honor, until now!”

Ruan frowned. “Sheila? I’m nae sure…” His voice trailed off in confusion upon spying Dougald’s fierce expression. After a minute, he continued. “Aye, well, I’m certain Sheila is lovely, Dougald, but I’m already wed!”

Dougald stared and then cursed. He took a step forward, but paused as a young woman pushed her way through the thickening crowd. She stepped from the circle of observers, belly heavy with child.

Ruan’s eyes narrowed as understanding dawned. “Aye,” he said coldly. “This must be Sheila.”

“I’ve naught but ill to see,” the angry father spat. “Ye canna wed my daughter as ye should now!”

“The bairn isn’t mine,” Ruan’s voice grew colder. “And I’ve no recollection of seeing Sheila afore.”

“Aye, be truthful, lass.” Simon said, stepping up in support of Ruan. “Even Ruan canna get ye with a bairn when he’s nae here.”

“He was here!” the girl whispered, her lips white. “He came with the Earl of Lennox. He… was drunk, and… and…”

“That was nigh on twelve months ago,” Simon snorted. “And I know he touched no one. Ach, even if I dinna ken, ye’ve some time yet afore that bairn is dropped.”

“No!” The girl shook her head, desperately. “’Twas nae even nine months, and the bairn is late.” She covered her head in her arms, sobbing, as several women sympathetically drew her away.

Doubt crossed her father’s face for the first time.

Voices rose and then everyone was speaking.

Taking a deep breath, Bree slipped away from the crowd in search of an escape. She wanted to hide, if only for a few moments, until she lost the sudden urge to cry. She stumbled through the courtyard, and found a spot next to a wall of kegs and crates.

A hand touched her shoulder.

She looked up as Ruan caught her chin in his hand and forced her eyes to meet his. “The bairn isn’t mine,” he said.

She swallowed and finally forced herself to reply, “It… really is none of my affair.”

“Oh?” he glared at her angrily. “Ask yourself why I’m here, explaining this to ye, then!”

She looked away, but then a new thought struck her. The words came out before she could stop them. “I’m sure there are plenty of children about that
do
belong to you!”

His dark brows drew into a scowl, and she felt oddly ashamed.

“I have no bairns! If I did, ye would have known,” Ruan replied with a clenched jaw. “Ye think I’m uncommonly vile!”

Bree bit her lip and glanced away. As much as it hurt to admit, she was only an obligation to the man. She was certainly never desired. He’d obviously forgotten the kiss. He hadn’t mentioned it. But then, it hadn’t been a real kiss to him. She found herself repeating dully, “It…really is no concern of mine. You will soon be free to do as you please when our marriage is… annulled.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Aye,” he said finally, his voice cold and distant. “’Twill nae be long now, then. I’ve no desire to be chained in wedlock.”

A jumble of emotions greeted his words. Inexplicably, the anger of rejection outweighed all others. She raised her head and allowed the hurt in her eyes to show. “That is well, for I’ve no desire for you as a husband!”

Ruan’s dark eyes burned in response.

“Aye!” he retorted. “I’ve nae bedded a woman these past three years, and I’d rather pull out my own eyes and tongue with hot pincers before I ever touch another one and that includes ye, lass! ‘Tis right thankful I’ll be to be rid of ye!”

They stood there, breathing hard, then, as tears threatened, Bree struck out, pummeling his chests with her fists, wanting to make him go away. He stared, stunned, eyeing her fleetingly before stepping back.

What possessed her? She’d never behaved so irrationally in her entire life.

“Come, lass,” Isobel’s calm voice unexpectedly asserted itself. “Merry, take her up to the hall.”

“I used to think ye understood lassies uncommon well, lad, but ye’ve proved of late ye know less than most,” Isobel said, with a kindly chuckle.

“Aye and I’ve no desire to learn,” Ruan snapped, attempting to brush past her, but she caught his arm.

The old woman smiled. “Well, ye might wish to try a wee harder with this one, love.”

Ruan gave a snort of disdain. “She wants nothing to do with me.” Aye, and he’d only himself to blame. “I’m sure ye must have heard. She wants her annulment and a cottage by the sea.”

“Well, ye’ve hardly been talking to the wee lass, if she thinks ye still want this marriage annulled, love,” Isobel laughed a little. “She likely thinks that kiss of yours meant nothing to ye.”

“Kiss?” Ruan frowned, flinching in embarrassment. Of course, Isobel must have seen.

“Aye,” She laughed, reading the nature of his thoughts. “What exactly have ye said to her about it? I’d say nothing, judging by what just took place.”

He didn’t have to reply. She knew him too well.

“Love, how could ye be so foolish? She probably thinks–” Isobel began.

“Be done!” Ruan interrupted. Taking a deep breath, he continued in a softer tone, “Thank ye for your concern, but I’ve had my fill of this for now.”

Thankfully, she nodded, but her aged eyes were twinkling.

Eilean Donan’s hall was alive with merriment. The candles burned brightly in the large iron chandelier suspended from the heavy oak timbers spanning the ceiling. Torches flickered on the walls.

Only a month ago, he had ridden here with Robert, to ease the Mackenzie concerns over Cuilen’s clan. He clenched his fists a little. Aye, Robert had been alive then. It wasn’t so long ago.

Simon had informed him that The Mackenzie had left with a band of men. He hadn’t told Ruan where they had gone. He didn’t have to. Ruan knew they were headed north, to Fearghus. To know that Fearghus was now dealing with Mackenzie trouble suited him just fine. His only regret was that he hadn’t killed the man when he had the chance.

Lady Elspeth Mackenzie was already presiding at table when he entered; she beckoned to him immediately, giving him no time to search for Bree. Not that she wanted to see him, he reminded himself as he bowed over the lady of the castle’s wrinkled hand.

He’d always enjoyed Lady Elspeth’s company. She had a rare wit and, in spite of her advanced age, a sharp mind. He was saddened to find her health had deteriorated since their last meeting, only a month ago, but her spirits were high. She seemed frail and tired easily. After only a brief conversation, she kissed him a warm farewell and retired to her chamber.

He found Bree almost immediately.

She sat with Merry at the farthest table close to a window, appearing miserable. He suppressed a sigh. The lass detested him, that much was plain. There was little point in wooing her. He flushed, wondering how he could have even considered such a daft scheme.

It must have been the wound.

In any case, ‘twas for the better. He had other, weightier matters to consider, such as the damage he’d inflicted on the clan. He could not think of Robert’s death, not yet. Disheartened, he swung his leg over the bench and took his seat opposite her.

“Forgive me,” Bree said, as he sat. Her voice shook nervously.

He blinked, surprised, but said truthfully, “There is nae need for that.” He shrugged.

“No, that is not true. You have been very kind to me,” Bree continued earnestly, the color high in her cheeks. She didn’t meet his eyes, instead she trailed her finger back and forth on the surface of the wooden table. “I had no cause to speak to you so, especially since I haven’t thanked you as I should… for… what you have done. You have rescued me more than once and…” She faltered uncertainly.

In spite of his best efforts, his pulse quickened. His dark thoughts disappeared. Almost of its own accord, his voice deepened, and he leaned forward with a suggestive whisper. "Aye and what is the proper way to… thank me?”

Merry began to tap on the table loudly, giving a long, loud sigh of boredom.

Bree appeared a little confused, but said firmly, “I… thank you.”

He took a deep breath, relieved at her innocence.

Her company obviously addled his wits. One moment he was ready to return her to Domnall, and the next, he was flirting with seduction. He clearly needed space and time to think. Sitting there was a mistake. Standing abruptly, he gave a gallant bow and said, “Aye, then I’ve been thanked, and there’s nae harm done. We leave at dawn; be sure ye rest well.”

Merry was frowning at him. He reached over and tousled her hair; he’d have to deal with her later. Right now, he wanted to be gone. He ducked to join Simon and several others a few tables away and distracted himself with their company long into the night, long after he saw Bree and Merry settling to sleep in the corner. Finally, scant few hours before dawn, he sprawled across the table and slept, exhausted.

All too soon, Simon was shaking him awake as the soft morning light filtered in the hall.

He staggered to his feet, bleary eyed and still tired.

“Aye, lad,” Simon said with a knowing grin. “Ye’ll sort it out soon enough.”

Ruan squinted and replied, “’Tis too early to speak in riddles, Simon.”

“I’ll wager neither of ye slept well.” Simon punched him lightly on the shoulder and nodded with his chin.

Following the man’s direction, Ruan spied Bree peering out the window.

She yawned, stretching her neck, seeming somewhat sad. The desire rippled through him, to sweep her in his arms and assure her all would be well. Only, he could not promise that, and he was highly uncertain she fancied hearing him say anything. Belatedly, he realized he was staring and hadn’t answered Simon.

He turned, but the man was gone.

Isobel arrived, and Ruan sat on the edge of the table, absently swinging his leg as the others gathered their things. They had oatcakes and fish along the way, and after he’d given his thanks for the hospitality, he led them out into the crisp morning air.

Clouds hung low in the west and the wind was rising.

It promised to be a wretched day.

Bree and Merry huddled in the back of the boat, plaids drawn against the biting wind and Simon refused to let him take an oar. The shore was scarce over a stone’s throw away, so he didn’t insist. It was just as well, his shoulder was still sore.

Simon quickly led them to the stables.

Ruan dipped his head under the low door, entering, as Simon pointed to three beautiful mares.

“Lady Elspeth insisted ye have these,” he said with a smile.

They were stunning animals.

“These be far too valuable,” Ruan said. He shook his head. “I canna accept them.”

“Aye,” Simon replied with a laugh. He handed the lead of the first to Merry. “She told me ye’d say that and that I was to tell ye she’d forever be in yer debt for saving the laird.”

“Ye saved the laird?” Merry danced sideways, her black eyes snapping with interest. “From which clan?”

“I saved the laird from a chicken bone… hardly worth the horses,” Ruan frowned.

Merry was rightfully disenchanted. She led the mare out of the stable, chattering to Simon. “Three? Does that mean I ride my own?”

“Nay,” Simon answered. He tossed Ruan a couple of bridles before following her. “Ye’ll ride with Isobel, ye canna manage one of these beasts on yer own yet, I’d wager.”

“How much would ye wager?” Ruan heard Merry’s impertinent reply.

He smiled.

“Merry!” Isobel warned.

Ruan chuckled. Simon would lose. Merry was one of the best horsemen he’d ever seen. Still smiling, he stepped around the front of the mare, almost tripping over Bree.

“Ach, lass, what are ye doing here?” he asked, catching his balance and pulling up short.

“Simon said you needed help,” Bree said. She stepped back quickly. “He said your shoulder…”

Ruan peered through the open door to see Simon walk past, grinning widely. He suppressed a sigh. Apparently, only he could see that the lass detested him. “Aye, well, ye can ready your horse, then.”

He tossed the remaining bridle, but instead of catching it, she instinctively raised her arm to cover her face. It fell to the barn floor with a jingle. They both reached for it at the same time, his fingers brushing hers. She straightened, stiffly, tugging the bridle free from his grasp.