The Kindling Heart
Page 13
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.
Chapter 12: Trust No One
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.
His lashes were unusually long and dark.
For a brief moment, she was tempted to reach out and touch them with her finger.
“Ach, what is it, lass?” he asked, his mouth quirked to one side. His eyes remained closed.
She jerked back, ashamed to be caught staring, and banged her head in the process. The noise startled Merry into a whirlwind of motion. In short order, all three tumbled from the bed, rubbing various sore points and sending each other sullen looks. With a muffled oath, Ruan strode from the chamber, slamming the door.
A short time later, Isobel poked her head through the door. “Effric’s calling for ye, lass. She’s wanting forgiveness.”
Bree grimaced, thinning her lips. She simply didn’t trust the Lady of Dunvegan.
“The lass is of unsound mind, love,” Isobel said with a sympathetic smile. “But I dinna believe she’d cause ye harm. She’s jealous and that is all. She seems to be making her peace that Ruan belongs to ye now. ‘Tis so pleasant to see her smiling and behaving nicely. Mayhap, I can yet help the wee one.”
Ruan belongs to you now? Why did those words make her heartbeat quicken?
“I’ll be with ye. I’ll nae leave ye alone,” Isobel promised, misunderstanding the nature of her hesitation.
Reluctantly, Bree allowed Isobel to guide her forward, still distracted by the words: Ruan belongs to you now.
Effric was alone, standing by the small, gilded birdcage that was placed on a table nearby. She said nothing as Bree curtsied in greeting.
“Remember?” Isobel prodded. “What ye said, nae an hour hence, lass.”
Slowly, clutching her hands behind her back, Effric moved forward, stopping before Bree.
Isobel gave her a nod of encouragement.
“Aye,” Effric said in a low voice. “This is what I have to say to ye!”
With a swift movement, she swung her hand up from where she’d hidden it. The blade of a small dagger glittered in the shaft of sunlight filtering through the window.
Bree simply stared in shock, but then Isobel screamed and grabbed Effric’s hand as the dagger plunged forward. Bree jolted into action. With a backward twist, she leapt out of the way, flinging an arm over her face.
The blade scraped the back of her hand.
The door burst open and Ewan barged in. Taking the situation in at a glance, he disarmed Effric and subdued her within in a matter of seconds.
Bree simply stood where she was, white and shaken.
Effric began to weep hysterically. “My Ruan, she’s taken my Ruan!”
It was a chaotic scene. The chamber filled with others, among them Tormod, Robert, and Ruan. And then, Ruan stood before Bree, gently touching her cheek, but in an absent-minded way. At the same time, he was shouting at Tormod, when quite suddenly, he announced, “I’ll be taking Bree away. She’s done with this place!”
“Ye’ll be living here!” Tormod announced, arms folded. “I’m The MacLeod, and I order ye to stay!”
Ruan gave a snort of disgust. Slowly, he moved to tower over his brother and then leaned in close to hiss, “Fie! Just ye try and force me!”
Taking Bree by the arm, he bundled her out of the castle, to the dock, and into a boat.
“Ye can stay with Jenna and help her manage the croft,” Ruan explained tersely, rowing the short distance to the shore. “She needs help, and I’m sure ye’ve little love for the castle. I’ll see to it that Effric is taken care of.”
The boat scraped the beach and Ruan hopped out and lifted her ashore with an easy arm. He was silent, distant, as he led her to the stables. Saddling a shaggy pony, he quickly mounted, leaned down, and extended his hand to pull her up.
Bree balked.
“What is it?” Ruan asked, scowling a little.
She pressed her lips together. How could she tell the man that she hated to ride horses? She decided she couldn’t, so with strength of will, she grasped his arm. His skin was warm, making her strangely nervous, but she’d no time for further distractions as he swung her roughly behind him.
“Hold on,” he ordered curtly.
As the pony jolted forward, she desperately grabbed his waist causing him to cough a little. “Sorry…” she mumbled into his back, grimacing.
He didn’t reply, but pried her fingers loose and repositioned them higher.
Bree frowned and cringed. She could feel his hard muscles under her hands. With her cheek pressed against his back, she could smell the smoke and heather scent of his plaid. Her ears began to burn, and she was grateful he could not see her blush.
Ruan rode in silence, directing the pony onto a sheep path that ran between two small, reed-filled lochs. A short distance away, she could see a tumbled down ruin of lichen-covered stones, an old fort of some kind.
The scenery was wild, forbidding. She wondered how far they had to go when the pony snorted and tossed its head, catching her unawares. All at once, she lost her grasp and the ground rose sharply. And suddenly she was rolling in the heather, sliding to a stop in a pile of damp, musty leaves.
For several long moments, she could not breathe, and then Ruan’s concerned face entered her field of vision.
“Are ye hurt, lass?” he asked, extending a hand.
Bree gulped, a little stunned. He waited for a response before gently lifting her to her feet. Grimacing, she wiped her muddy hands on her skirt, wincing a little when she accidentally brushed the cut.
“Aye, I’m sorry for that,” Ruan said quietly, catching her hand. “I’ll nae be letting her harm ye again. I’m done with them all.”
Bree held still. It was strange, standing on the wind swept moors with Ruan gently cradling her hand in his. She should have been cold, but instead, she was strangely warm. Then, all at once, his eyes were too much to bear. Twisting her hand free, she took a step back.
Ruan said nothing, but this time he placed her alone in the saddle and led the pony through the paths threading through the gorse and heather. It took longer. Apparently, he was in no hurry. It was oddly pleasant. From her perch, she could see in all directions, but she mostly watched the man in front of her.
Jenna’s small croft was perched on top of a hill, a blue-plume of peat smoke rising far into the sky above it. Dried vines crawled over the black-stoned exterior and bits of grass grew on the heather-thatched roof. A few sheep grazed in front of the door. Ruan strode through them and they scattered, bleating at him crossly, bits of grass protruding from their cheeks.
Jenna brightened as Ruan stooped, entering the croft.
Bree paused on the threshold, watching them exchange words in low voices.
The woman caught her breath in surprise and waddled to Bree’s side, “Poor lass! I never thought Effric could do such a thing! Come in now, I’m right pleased to have ye.” She swept her hand in a welcoming gesture even as she leaned heavily against the door.
“Jenna, ye should be resting!” Ruan tossed a concerned arm around the woman’s shoulders, drawing her to the hearth. “Think only of taking care of yourself and our wee one. I’ll handle Effric.”
Jenna smiled ruefully and settled into a chair with a loud sigh. “Can ye stay a wee bit tonight, Ruan? Tis hard to be alone… so soon.”
“Aye, I’ll return,” he replied, without hesitation. He patted her stomach with a smile.
It was a possessive gesture, distinctly suggesting ownership, and then Bree understood.
Jenna was his lover. She carried his child.
Shocked, and strangely disconcerted, she glanced away. Her heart suddenly felt heavy. She was such a fool. Of late, Ruan had distracted her, sending her thoughts in confusing directions, but she’d do well to remind herself that the man hadn’t wished to marry her. Clearly, he loved Jenna. She should have known. Still, inexplicably, she felt tears threaten. She clenched her fists. What ailed her? She didn’t care for the man!
Ruan kissed the top of Jenna’s head, “Just rest, love. Bree will do what needs to be done. I must return to Dunvegan.”
Then, with a slight nod in Bree’s direction, Ruan left.
Bree took a deep breath and stepped timidly into the room. “You love him,” she blurted, oddly rattled. She regretted the words instantly. Why, oh why, had she said them? She sounded jealous.
“Ruan? Oh, aye, I love him with my soul!” Jenna opened her eyes briefly, long enough to raise a curious brow. “There isn’t a lass for leagues who doesn’t,” she laughed. Then, she checked herself, eyes widening in alarm. “Oh, he’s a different man, lass, grown and seen the folly of his ways. He’s no longer the wild one. I’d say most of the tales are nae even true. Ye ken well enough how tales grow a life of their own.”
Bree held still and then curiosity made her prompt, “Tales?”
“How many women and all… ‘tis no matter,” Jenna said. She shook her head, buttoning her lips, but then added, “’Tis a far fewer number than claimed, I should know. It was the carelessness of youth and nothing more. He’s the sort who forgives all others but himself. He is so sure that he is beyond redemption that he canna see he is only just now worthy of love, the foolish lad. Sometimes, I think he enjoys torturing himself a wee bit too much.”
Bree nodded awkwardly, embarrassed to have made Jenna speak on the matter and hurriedly searched for a way to change the subject, but then Jenna took care of the problem by leaning back and closing her eyes.
Bree grimaced, angry with herself. There was no denying it. Her heart weighed heavily. It could only mean one thing. Mysteriously, she’d developed some sort of feelings for Ruan. How could she be so foolish? She could hardly look at Jenna without feeling a strong sense of guilt.
Shaking off her darkening mood, she began tidying the tiny croft as Jenna drifted to sleep.
As the afternoon sun rose, Bree ventured into the neglected garden and set about readying it for the winter. It was peaceful to be away from the castle. Afraig crossed her mind from time to time, but she was still angry with the woman had for sending her to Scotland and to Ruan.
Ruan.
He was disconcerting, but he was kind. She could no longer deny that, whatever his past might be. Now that she understood his relationship to Jenna, there was no doubt that he’d annul their marriage. But, what would her future be? What would she do? It was a bit worrisome to contemplate. Would her father attempt to wed her off again? The uncertainty of her future weighed heavily upon her.
She frowned, pulling the dried vines and weeds vigorously, much harder than necessary.
Periodically, she checked on Jenna, but the woman slept deeply. She didn’t wake until late in the evening when the aroma of the rich nettle soup and fresh bannocks Bree had made, floated through the croft. She still seemed tired, but ate heartily, telling Bree many tales of Ruan.
Obviously, Jenna loved him dearly. Her eyes crinkled about the corners as she leaned close, patting Bree on the knee and offering detail after detail of the man.
“Aye, he’s the loyal sort, just a wee bit too charming for his own good. He was lonely as a lad, ‘tis the only reason he was free with the lassies,” Jenna repeated firmly.
Bree nodded, wincing a little, she wondered if Jenna repeated it to convince herself of the fact. The situation was entirely uncomfortable, and she was quite relieved when Jenna finally slipped into bed to nap once again.
She tidied the pla
ce and surveyed her handiwork with a pleased nod. It had been a long day, but a fulfilling one. Perhaps she could find a place to be a scullery maid. She sighed, trying not to worry for the future, but found it hard not to.
If only she could find a tiny croft, much like this one, she could just spend her days tending the garden, sheep, and geese. She could be self-sufficient. She felt a twinge of jealousy. Jenna had everything, even a man who loved her. Ruan’s eyes had lit up when he saw her.
Catching the nature of her thoughts, Bree snorted, and rolled her eyes at herself. What had she been doing of late? Secretly wishing a man such as Ruan would desire her and why was she thinking that? She’d never thought such silly things before.
“You are so foolish!” she hissed under her breath as she spread several sheepskins near the fire and tossed a woolen blanket on top.
Drawing herself up resolutely, she forced her muddled thoughts to clear and focused on the work for the next day. She must be up at dawn. There was still much to do in righting the croft. She had noticed a hole in the thatching. She’d often repaired Wat’s roof. She could do the same here. Tomorrow, she’d mend it.
She wondered what Merry was up to and where she’d sleep that night. Surely, someone would tell the little girl where she was, she didn’t want the child to fret. As she began to worry herself, she heard the sound of boots crunching outside.
Alarmed, she sprang to her feet, angry with herself because she had forgotten to bar the door. With a pounding heart, she managed a single step that direction before it swung slowly open.
It was Ruan.
She exhaled a loud breath of relief.
Ruan flashed an apologetic smile. Indicating Jenna with his chin, he queried, “Sleeping?”
Bree nodded. A little weak-legged, she sat down on the sheepskins.
“Poor lass,” he murmured, shaking his head at Jenna absently. He barred the door and added, “Effric’s locked in her chamber. The elders will meet to decide what must be done with her.”