The Kindling Heart (35 page)

Bree glanced at Ruan while nodding politely, obviously confused. He gave her an encouraging smile only to find Merry’s elbow in his ribs.

“Merry!” Ruan scowled in warning.

Merry scowled in reply.

“Anna, my second wife was a wee bairn, another English lass,” Cameron continued, his voice distant, oblivious to his audience. “I gave her a doll, tucked her into bed and left. She survived three years, the only one that lived past the first year,” he said. He turned to consult with Ruan once again. “The foul death of the English, was it not?”

Merry’s frown deepened and Ruan returned it with one of his own.

“Nay, the Keiths… disposed of her… in retribution for… ach, ‘tis no good to be bringing up the past, lad,” Ruan replied.

“The foul death of the English, was it not?” The Earl repeated, his voice growing harder.

“Nay,” Ruan sighed. “Ye must be thinking of Elizabet, the third wife.”

“Bree will be staying with me this night,” Merry informed him in a whisper.

“Aye, Anna had only been dead two weeks before I was wed again to Elizabet.” Cameron’s tone was flat. “If I hadn’t left during the wedding feast to fight the Keiths, I’d have fallen victim to the plague as well.”

“She is sleeping with me!” Merry hissed.

“The fourth, I canna even recall the lass!” Cameron turned upon Ruan, his brows furrowed in a tight line.

“She was the widow,” Ruan sighed in reply, attempting to hurry the conversation. “She was already long ill. Ye didn’t even meet her for the wedding. ‘Twas when we were fighting the English. The fifth ran off with her lover afore the wedding night and was killed when their horse plunged over the cliff.”

“Aye and the sixth drowned herself afraid my touch alone would cause her an unholy death.” His lips curved upwards in a half-smile, but there was no mirth in it. “Aye, I suppose it did…”

“That… should not be your burden.” Bree cleared her throat, nervously twisting her fingers behind her back. Again, she looked to Ruan in uncertainty.

He sent her a warm smile in reply.

“Ye’ll have her marriage annulled!” Merry’s demands were only getting louder.

“Be done,” Ruan said, clasping Merry’s shoulder. “Bree is nae danger to ye, lass. Think of her as a sister.”

“Ye mean to keep her?” Merry was outraged.

“Ach, Merry!” Cameron said, sending her a bemused look. “Ruan’s in love with the lass. He clearly wants to devour her. I’ve never seen him look at a woman so.”

Ruan’s brows lifted in surprise. The man was evidently becoming intoxicated once again. Sober he never betrayed confidences of any sort, including those he only suspected. Although, Ruan supposed, it should be obvious to all that he truly had fallen in love. He glanced at Bree curiously, seeking her reactions.

Her eyes were downcast, but her cheeks were pink.

He smiled.

“Say that isn’t so!” Merry insisted, tugging his arm. “Ye said ye would annul it and be done!”

“Merry, the cause is lost,” Cameron said. He snagged the wine from Ruan and threw back his head to drain it in several long, impressive gulps. His hand was unsteady as he pointed to Ruan. “Now that ye’ve happily wed, ye’ve only given me another thing to envy.”

Ruan regarded him in open astonishment. “I’ve naught for ye to envy, surely!”

“Freedom,” Cameron answered. “And now love. Aye, ‘tis naught to envy, my friend.” His tone was mocking.

“Freedom?” Ruan repeated, astounded. “Ye’ve more freedom than I!”

“I doubt many would see it that way,” Cameron countered, his words slurring a little as he rubbed his temples with his long fingers. “Your wife is exquisite, but ‘tis plain to see her heart is pure and kind. That is a thing of dazzling, rare beauty.”

Ruan was again surprised at the surge of jealousy running through him.

“Ach, ye love her,” the Earl of Lennox said. He shifted unevenly. “I’ve seen ye desire women, but I’ve never seen ye jealous over one.”

Concerned with Cameron’s ever-loosening tongue, Ruan made up his mind. With several long strides, he caught the Earl deftly as he collapsed. “Come, lad. ‘Tis time ye were in bed.”

He was grateful that Cameron gamely complied in silence. He guided the man out of the chamber and up to the narrow stairs leading to his private rooms. After depositing him on his bed, Ruan returned to find the vaulted chamber empty.

For a time, he gazed into the fire, brooding, wondering if Bree was distressed, if Cameron’s words had caused her to find disappointment in him.

Finally, he permitted himself to search for her.

Bree lay next to Merry, brushing the little girl’s hair back in slow, soothing strokes. The instant Ruan left, Merry’s animosity disappeared. Now, she was tearful, clingy, and immediately seeking the comfort of Bree’s arms.

Cameron’s talk of love had been particularly disturbing, for Merry, because she was certain it meant Ruan would stop loving her, and for Bree, because Ruan hadn’t fervently agreed with what the man had said.

She sighed, slightly ashamed to be pining for Ruan’s love.

While he’d kissed her and implied that he loved her, he’d never actually said the words.

She felt foolish.

She sighed, wondering just exactly when she’d falling in love with the man herself. It had happened so gradually, she couldn’t point at the exact time. After a time, satisfied Merry was asleep, she extricated herself from the child’s embrace as the door of the chamber opened and Isobel marched in.

“I canna believe the arrogance of that high-handed harridan! Ach, what an ungrateful crone!” Isobel’s chin jiggled in outrage. “Sending me from her side, nae wanting common folk to touch her noble skin or that of her wee bairn!”

Bree stared, uncertain of what to say, but she need not have worried. Isobel was not listening. She stomped about the chamber, shaking out the plaids, refolding them, stoking the fire, and rearranging everything in her path as she complained bitterly about the arrogant Countess and how the poor young Earl deserved more than a shackling to the Personification of Conceit herself.

Somewhere in the middle of the tirade, the door creaked open once again, and Bree felt a warm hand slide over her shoulder. She jumped, but Ruan was prepared, skillfully twisting her out the door and pulling her up to his chamber before she could scarcely react. The room was dark; the fire had long since died. Moonlight streamed through the open window. There was a chill in the air, and she shivered, though, not entirely from the cold.

“I’ve rarely seen Isobel so riled,” Ruan chuckled a little.

“The Countess seems…” Bree began in Isobel’s defense, but the thought fled as Ruan crushed her close. His lips descended to devour hers for several long, glorious moments before he wrenched away. He pressed her back, hard against the door, and she felt his breath on her cheek.

“I… canna bear to lose ye, lass,” he whispered in her ear. “If I were an honorable man, I’d have this marriage annulled.”

Her heart filled with an ache of disappointment so deep that she almost missed his next words.

“I must be off to Dunvegan and soon. I… canna make ye mine, I might… not return. Domnall or Cameron could find ye another husband if I—”

“No!” Bree said, and pushed him back violently. “I don’t want another husband!”

The thought was preposterous.

He fell back a few paces, but then he reached to pull her fiercely against his chest.

She stood there, encircled in his arms, feeling the rhythmic breathing of his chest. “I feel… safe with… you,” she confessed softly.

Ruan expelled a deep breath and then whispered, “I dinna say ye are safe, lass, and I ne’er said I was an honorable man. If ye only kent what I’ve been thinking this past hour… a maiden would perish from blushing.”

Oddly, she smiled.

“My heart wants to make ye mine before I go.” He nuzzled her ear and nipped it. “Aye, with no thoughts of how ye’ll be fed or if, heaven forbid, I leave ye with a bairn, where either of ye will live—”

“Then, do not go!” she interjected, disturbed at the thought that she might never see him again.

He straightened. “‘Tis a matter of justice… for Robert, at least, if no one else. I owe him that.”

A slight pall settled over them, and Bree sighed. Would she never truly have what she wanted? A cottage filled with laughing children and a husband, and, not just any man.

She wanted Ruan.

She could agree to have the marriage annulled or wait patiently for his return, but from deep inside, her emotions began to burn. She wanted to reach out and take her dream before it slipped away. She was weary of waiting for someone else to deliver it. Lifting her hands to run them over his hair, she whispered what she truly felt. “Then, I’d rather be a widow of one day.”

He moaned, and then pressed her hard against him. “I love ye,
mo ceisd
, like I’ve never loved another.”

The words warmed her very toes.

“I should nae be reckless—” he groaned, smothering her with kisses.

Bree made up her mind. She’d have this night, regardless of what the future would bring. Surrendering to her desire, she arched close. “Be reckless, then.”

Ruan caught his breath and then smiled even as his brows knit into a scowl. “If ye don’t leave now, woman, I’ll never let ye.”

Sliding her hands up his chest to touch his cheek, she whispered, “I’m not leaving.”

Bree awoke with the dawn and Ruan’s thigh possessively pinning her to the bed. Recalling the events of the night before, her ears reddened. The chamber was in disarray with pillows and covers strewn across the floor, a chair tipped sideways.

He’d been quite vocal, speaking of his desires before making good on a decent number of them. Her cheeks burned, and she now understood precisely why a maiden would perish from the blushing.

The man possessed the passion of an animal and the loudness of one as well. He’d awakened a side of her that she hadn’t known existed. She’d become almost savage herself, knocking him back and biting his neck, causing him to shout in ecstasy. In the light of the morning, she was shocked by her conduct, but was distracted from further thoughts as Ruan’s warm hands slid around her, pulling her close.

He hungrily kissed her throat and chills ran down her spine. She shivered and he chuckled.

“Aye, I forgot to ask ye last night, lass,” his voice rumbled in her ear. “Did ye want this marriage annulled?”

Frowning, a little, she shifted to look him in alarm. “Do you?”

His dark lashes lowered.

She stared at him uncertainly.

“I’m mocking ye, lass,” he said with a chuckle. “’Tis far too late for an annulment, my wee… wild beastie.”

Recalling his continuous shouting, Bree blushed, murmuring, “You were hardly… discreet ...”

“I found myself attacked by a wee hellion!” he smiled unabashedly. “I never dreamt ye would be so vicious, though, considering how challenging ye’ve been from the start, I should have known.”

At that, she blushed harder, covering her cheeks with her hands.

Ruan laughed, rolling her over to rest on top of him. “I’m exceedingly pleased to find ye brutal, and now I’m thinking I should be right relieved ye’ve been forgetting to wear the knife I gave ye.”

She followed his gaze to her
sgian dubh
lying on the floor. She moved to pick it up, but he deftly twisted her again to lie under him. His kiss was gentle, but deepening into a burning passion when a knock rattled the door.

“Cameron needs ye, lad,” Isobel’s muffled voice sounded from the other side.

Ruan frowned. “Aye?”

Isobel paused before replying, “They have sent for a priest … The Countess is dying.”

With a sigh, they rose and dressed hurriedly.

They found Cameron in the small vaulted chamber staring silently out of the open window, oblivious to the cold wind. Bree huddled close by the fire, watching as Ruan joined the Earl, clasping him warmly on the shoulder.

Cameron didn’t move, but he did speak. “I truly am cursed.”

“Nonsense,” Ruan scowled. “’Tis nothing to do with ye.”

Cameron surveyed him impassively. “Can ye truly say that? This is the seventh woman to die with my name. Regardless of what I said as a drunkard last night, I wish the lass no harm.”

“Aye, but ‘tis an extraordinary set of circumstances, that is all,” Ruan replied firmly. “Childbirth is a dangerous thing. The others were mishaps, one already ill … one murdered…”

“Aye, but they are all dead,” Cameron replied. His tone was aloof. “It matters nae how it happens.”

“My lord,” a wizened, old woman cleared her throat as she hovered in the doorway. “The priest has arrived. The Countess calls for ye.”

Cameron straightened slowly. After a time, he bowed politely in their direction and then allowed the old woman to lead him away.

Ruan sighed, joining Bree before the fire. He lightly traced a finger over her cheek, but neither felt like speaking.

It was not long before Cameron returned. His handsome face was drawn and pale as he informed them, “She is dead.”