The Kindling Heart (31 page)

There was a loud whack as Ruan fell sideways off the bed.

Bree scrambled back to see Merry wielding a broom, pummeling her brother as he sprawled on the floor, protecting his head with his arms.

“Merry! Stop!” he shouted, voice muffled by the floor.

“What kind of a beast are ye?!” Merry shrieked hysterically, jabbing him repeatedly with the broom.

“Ach, Merry!” Isobel chuckled from the door.

“He was licking Bree!” the little girl screeched, lunging for Ruan as he attempted to move.

With a swiftness that belied her age and bulk, Isobel deftly disarmed the little girl and tossed the broom aside.

However, Merry was not one to abandon a cause so lightly; she threw herself in a flurry of kicking and biting, once more knocking Ruan down. He fell against the wooden bed frame, striking his head against the post with a loud thud.

“Fires of Hell!” he shouted. “Get her off me!”

Smothering her laughter, Isobel caught Merry’s ear and pulled her off. “Merry, he was nae doing aught that he shouldn’t have done, weeks ago.”

“But ‘tis disgusting!” Merry protested, twisting to Bree. “He was hurting ye!”

Bree hurriedly shook her head in denial. Despite the humiliation of the situation, she could not have the little girl thinking her brother had caused harm.

Merry’s mouth dropped open and a look of pure betrayal suffused her pointed face. “Ye liked it?”

“Ach, lass,” Isobel smiled, pushing Merry roughly to the door. “Someday, ye’ll find love yerself, and ye’ll see then that it can be a good thing. Now, ’tis time to eat.”

“‘Tis revolting!” Merry shouted. “I’ll never let a man lick me!”

The door closed behind them with a bang.

Bree took a deep breath and wriggled back into her bodice, not daring to look at Ruan.

He rose to his feet with an exaggerated groan. “I’d best see to the wee spitfire,” he said. He paused, looking down at her before leaning down to kiss the top of her head and to ask in a whisper, “So, did ye like it?”

She blushed scarlet.

Taking a deep breath, Ruan closed the door softly behind him. He was grateful for Merry’s interruption. He did not want to rush with Bree. With a mere flash of those green eyes, she’d ignited an inferno of passion and he winced at the readiness of his body. One moment, he’d been angry and in a keen distress over her lack of trust. The next, he had found himself lying on her, trailing his tongue on the soft swell of her shoulder intent on undressing her as quickly as possible. Aye, where was his honor? How could he think to bed Domnall’s daughter when he could not even provide for her? But, all such honorable thoughts fled with memories of her soft skin. He wanted to rip her clothing with his bare hands, devour every inch of her and shout, not in anger, but from the sheer intensity of what burned inside him. Aye, she was quiet and shy, but her lips were alive with a passion he’d never tasted before.

However, it must wait until he secured a place as Cameron’s man. It was the right thing to do.

Straightening his plaid, he headed down the stairs to focus on Merry. She sat with Isobel in the far corner and when she spied him, slammed her tankard down with a loud clash.

Several pairs of eyes turned their way.

Ruan scowled. With Merry’s current mood, they would likely provide full entertainment for those gathered there that night.

Isobel smiled as he took his seat, but catching Merry’s black expression, she murmured a warning. “Be nice, lass.”

“What were ye doing?” Merry asked bluntly, glowering.

Ruan squirmed, twitching several fingers in the silent plea for her to lower her voice. She inspected him up and down, waiting, and when the silence became unbearable, he licked his dry lips. “Doing?” He feigned ignorance, only temporarily delaying the inevitable.

Merry raised a wicked brow and then stood to hover over him, raising her voice. “Why were ye licking Bree?”

Ruan winced. Grasping her arm, he yanked her down on the bench as a round of chuckles circled the room.

“Be done!” he snapped roughly, but his heart melted at Merry’s genuine distress. She was scared. In his recent confusion of late, he’d all but ignored her.

He sighed.

Aye, she was his wee sister, the one he’d been fighting for, but she was also the reason he was in his current predicament, he added wryly to himself. He pulled her into a warm hug. “Forgive me, Merry. I’ve been selfish, a bit distracted of late.”

She was rigid at first, but then clung to him tightly. “Aye,” she nodded, but added with a devilish grin, “but I haven’t missed your constant pestering.”

Ruan raised a brow, thrilled to see her smiling. “Pestering?”

“You’re a bit smothering, treating me like a bairn. ‘Tis nice to have Bree distract ye.” Merry’s humor disappeared in an instant, and she pulled out of his embrace, rising from the bench to stare at him in disgust. “But I did nae think ye were going to lick her! Why would ye?”

Ruan shook his head, taking a deep breath. It wouldn’t be the last time he regretted Fearghus still walked, if only he’d done more than wound the man in their last meeting.

“Were ye… trying to make her cry?” Merry frowned.

“No!” He replied vehemently.

Merry’s eyes were large, dark, glowering. “I did nae think ye’d ever hurt a woman, even if ye were drunk.”

Ruan leaned forward, gently cupping her chin in his palm. “I’ve made many mistakes, and I’ve hurt many people, but nae like ye think, Merry. I swear it. When a woman loves a man, she… finds… pleasure in those things. It doesn’t make her cry.”

“Oh?” Merry’s lips lifted in a sneer of challenge. “Does Bree love ye?”

The voices in the room hushed, more than one person strained forward to hear his reply.

He exhaled an exasperated breath.

Isobel spared him, waving a hand and pointing to Bree hovering near the bottom of the stairs.

“Bree, love, take a seat,” the old woman called, grabbing Merry’s wrist and pulling her down onto the bench next to her. She sent her a fierce warning to behave with her brows.

Ruan settled back, watching Bree’s approach. Everything about her heightened his senses, affecting his very breathing, from the tumble of brown curls cascading over her shoulders, to the curve of her lips, to the slight unconscious swaying of her hips as she walked. Several men gawked at her longer than he liked, and he sent them a dark look. They obligingly returned to their cups.

Bree timidly took her seat next to him, nodding shyly in greeting, and he let his gaze rove over her figure. Desire surged in him. He wanted to pull her close and thrust his tongue between those sweet, glistening ruby lips.

A burst of pain exploded in his knee, tearing him from his thoughts. He swore as Merry kicked him again, apparently for good measure.

“Are ye being foolish?” the little girl hissed.

Ruan frowned suspiciously, drawing his knees out of her reach. She hardly appeared frightened or upset. No, this time, her brown eyes were seething with jealousy.

The Innkeeper’s wife appeared. “About that dress,” she said to Isobel, tapping a finger on her chin. “I’ve a lass the same size, and she’s a gown or two that would serve ye quite well.”

“Bree’s smaller than most,” Isobel pursed her lips as both women eyed Bree speculatively. “It has to be right warm, though. The snow is already falling in the mountains.”

Bree frowned, confused.

With a slight smile, Ruan studied her through half-closed lids, settling back again to continue his bold appraisal when a sharp jab in his hand once more jolted his attention to Merry. The vixen had stabbed him with the end of her blunt knife.

“Be done, Merry!” he barked, in unexpected pain. “Ye’ve no cause to be jealous!”

“Jealous? Of Bree?” Merry’s nostrils flared. “I
like
Bree!”

“Then, what is the problem?” Ruan glared, rubbing his hand. She’d almost drawn blood.

“You!” she spat, on the verge of tears. “I don’t like ye, nae anymore!”

In the past, he’d simply have swept her into his arms, and a hug would have healed the pain. However, this suddenly new Merry was complex. He didn’t have the foggiest notion of what she meant nor what thoughts were running rampant behind those snapping eyes. Temper flaring a little, he glared. “By the Saints, Merry! Now is nae the time to turn into a bloody woman! I’m tortured enough with Bree. I canna be guessing about ye as well!”

At that, Bree frowned a little. “Tortured?”

He blinked. “I only meant … ye are a wee bit … bedeviling … at times—”

She glanced away.

“Aye, I’ve heard ye call her meddling and troublesome,” Merry announced.

Bree’s green eyes flashed alive.

Taken aback, Ruan turned on his sister. “Are ye daft?”

“I heard ye, telling Ewan, afore ye left on the raid,” Merry replied with a hostile flare of nostrils. “Can ye deny it?”

“I can scarce recall what I might have said then,” Ruan said. He glowered at his little sister before turning to Bree. “And I’m sure I only meant ye were troublesome … on occasion … but nae like either of ye are thinking!”

Bree said nothing, her lips tensed a little, but she took a deep breath, and helped herself to a bannock.

“Aye, well, I’ve never heard ye complain of all the other women ye said enjoyed ye, Ruan.” Merry piped, dark eyes tightening maliciously.

Bree’s hands clenched a little at the mention of other women, and Ruan drew his brows into a firm scowl. “Ach, Merry! This time, ye are speaking far out of turn! There is no cause for such impertinence!”

“Ye’ve said yourself, time and again, that ye had many, many, many women –”

“Many, many, many?” Ruan repeated, slamming his fist on the table. “What devil are ye possessed with, lass?”

To his surprise, Merry’s mouth shut instantly with a gulp as she burst into tears. Isobel laid a comforting hand on the little girl’s shoulder, pursing her mouth in disapproval, and even Bree sent him a dark look.

He stared at all three of them, at a loss, and then stood abruptly.

A quick glance about revealed what he had feared. He was the sole amusement of the entire common room. He met their gaze boldly and executed a bow with an extra flourish. He kicked the door open and strode across the courtyard to the stables, swearing loudly.

At least the horses were understandable.

Across the table, Bree could feel the heat of Merry’s anger. The little girl furrowed her brows in a deep line and stuck her tongue out at Ruan’s disappearing back.

“Yer right cantankerous of late,” Isobel said. She pinched Merry on the cheek. “‘Tis time for bed.”

“I’m nae tired,” Merry growled.

“Aye, but ye’ve tortured Ruan enough for one day,” Isobel answered, with a chuckle. Rising, she forced Merry to stand. “’Tis time to sleep, ye can torment him again in the morning.”

Not wanting to be alone, Bree followed them back to their attic room.

It had been a confusing day.

Merry was bundled, still protesting, into bed and Isobel settled next to her with an extended sigh. Sounds from below drifted their way as Bree slipped under the covers. Someone began to sing. Others clapped their hands, and she found herself wondering what Ruan was doing and with whom. Her imagination had taken a dark turn when the door inched open, and she felt a wash of guilt. She really was a nastily suspicious ‘lass’. She hurriedly turned away, feigning sleep.

He stumbled a little in the darkness, cursing under his breath, and dropped a small bundle on the bed.

“These are a warmer dress and shoes,” he explained shortly. “I’m nae a wealthy man, but at least they are new.”

Bree sat up slowly.

She’d never had anything new. She traced the weave of the cloth with a finger, at a loss for words.

“Ye can try them on in the morning,” Ruan yawned, stretching beside her and folding his arms under his head. “We leave at dawn.”

She ran her fingers over the shoes, striving to understand the man next to her, and her thoughts swerved in directions she seemed to be traversing more of late. His dark eyes, the strong line of his jaw, his nearness made her blood tingle. How could she actually sleep?

To her utter annoyance, he promptly drifted off.

Sourly, she scooted as far from him as she could, clutching the bundle to her chest.

She awoke to the sound of Isobel’s voice ordering Merry to rise.

“Why did we have to sell that horse?” Merry grumbled, struggling with her dress. Her head emerged and she added pointedly, “I can actually ride it!”

Bree sat up slowly. Ruan was nowhere to be found.

Isobel stood by the door with her things already tied in a bundle. “Bree, love, bring our wee beastie down when she is ready. ‘Tis time we left.”

“I’m ready,” Merry growled, stomping after Isobel and slamming the door.

A draft of cold wind rattled the shutters as Bree swung her legs over the bed. She blew on her fingers and shook out the new dress. It was blue and made of thick wool. A pair of green stockings rolled onto the floor next to the leather shoes. She dressed hurriedly, staring at the new shoes peeking from under the hem of the dress. She smiled, thinking of Ruan and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.