A palm-sized chunk of what looked to be a dried glob of baked oatmeal shook just inches from her nose. Kenna glared at the trembling oatcake and shook her head. “I don’t want it, Liam.”
“Have pity on the poor lad, dear wife. Take the oatcake afore he shakes himself t’death.” Ronan stirred the coals of the fire, smiling at the crackling yellow sparks spiraling up into the darkness.
“And I am not your wife.” Kenna snatched the oatcake out of Liam’s hand. The boy darted to the other side of the camp as though chased by the hounds of hell. Kenna stared down at the oatcake and started to toss it into the fire, but one glance at Ronan’s warning look stayed her hand.
“Stop calling me Lady Sutherland, wife, or any other form of endearment. Call me Kenna or Lady Sinclair—nothing else.” Kenna broke off a bit of the cake and grudgingly tossed it in her mouth. Nutty. Chewy, and yet crunchy. Not as stale and tasteless as the one she’d eaten earlier. Must be because she had refused anything resembling a full meal since she had been captured. “I am not your wife,” Kenna repeated. Maybe if she said it often enough, Ronan would give up and release her.
The hint of a smile teased across his lips as Ronan stirred a stick through the glowing red coals. “Ah…and that is where ye err, m’dear. I have publicly addressed ye several times as ‘wife.’ Doing so gives notice of m’claim and m’rights.” The smile disappeared, and Ronan’s face settled into the expression of a determined man bent on seeing things through.
Kenna forced the bite of oatcake down past the lump in her throat. She had heard of such “marriages” in Scotland, but never dreamed she would find herself trapped in one. “I hardly consider your men ‘public.’ I think you’re going to have to come up with something better than that to make people believe I’m your wife.”
“When ye publicly acknowledge it, or yer body grows round wi’ m’child, either or both will be proof enough that we be married. All will know ye as Lady Sutherland.” Ronan dropped the stick into the flames and faced her.
The glint in Ronan’s quicksilver gaze scared the living crap out of Kenna. She tucked what was left of the oatcake into an inner pocket and tightened her arms around her knees. Kenna swallowed hard and lifted her chin. Might as well get this over with and grab the bull by the horns. Granny always said a fight was easier won when you faced it head-on. If you act like you’ve already won the battle, you plant seeds of doubt in your opponent’s mind. Lordy, she hoped Granny was right. A lot was on the line this time. “So you’re telling me you’ve got no problem with forcing yourself on defenseless women as well as kidnapping them?”
Kenna pushed up from the ground and widened her stance against the stone embankment. She might not be able to hold him off forever, but he’d damn sure have some major regrets over forcing himself on her, and would end up with some permanent scars for his trouble.
Ronan’s left eye twitched at the corner and his mouth flattened into a displeased line. He clasped his hands at the small of his back, then turned and slowly walked away. He paused and stared down at the ground just before stepping out of the ring of firelight beating back the darkness. “No, m’lady. I am no mauler of women.” Then he turned and faced her with one hand pointing to the center of her chest. “But I am yer husband, and no man will e’er steal away what I have named as mine.”
Chapter 24
Smoke. Colum halted Rua again and turned in the saddle to better face the cutting touch of the wind. The faintest hint of acrid charred wood came to him again. The sharp breeze stung against his face, whispering the promise of Kenna’s location.
Rua fidgeted sideways on the dirt path. The horse tossed his great head and snorted out an impatient grumbling whinny. No matter how cold the weather, ever since surviving the stable blaze the beast hated any hint of fire. Colum nay blamed him. He’d nearly lost Rua that terrible day.
Colum urged the horse in a slow scanning circle, senses alert for every hint the Highlands had to offer. The mountains had grown eerily quiet, as if the land itself held its breath—waiting; silently watching. Even the yipping howls of the wolf pack had ceased.
Rua rumbled again and turned back into the wind. “Aye, Rua. Ye smell it too?” Colum patted the horse’s thick neck. “Have no fear, m’friend. ’Tis just the flames of those we seek. Our Lady Kenna must be close. I feel it in m’verra bones.”
Rua snorted harder and pranced a few feet forward, then nervously pawed at the ground. For the first time in days, the tension knotting between Colum’s shoulders lessened a notch. “Aye, laddie. I agree. ’Twill be good to have our lady back where she belongs.”
Colum nudged Rua onward, keeping the horse to a slow, quiet pace. Though he had no idea how far ahead those they sought might be, there was no need announcing their presence with Rua in full, thundering gallop. Little rest had nay seemed to bother the great animal, but Colum knew the warhorse’s stamina was directly related to Rua’s fondness for Kenna. Rua heartily approved of Kenna’s presence anytime she visited the stable—especially since she always brought him treats. The temperamental horse would ne’er tolerate many, but he adored the Lady Kenna.
The tang of smoke grew stronger. Colum eased Rua into a slow, silent walk up the trail. The hardened path narrowed to barely the width of a wagon as it rose to a sharp incline. Colum sat taller in the saddle, constantly searching the wood. The wind brought the smoke from somewhere off to the left. Colum pulled Rua to a stop. The dense copse of trees had darkened to an impenetrable murkiness on both sides of the road. He would have to travel the rest of the way on foot; there was no helping it. The scent of burning wood was nay enough to pinpoint the exact location of Sutherland and his men. ’Twould be ill advised indeed to ride into the center of the bastard’s camp. Keeping Rua to the road might be faster, but it risked certain discovery.
Silently, Colum slid from the saddle and smoothed a hand down Rua’s shaggy neck. “I leave ye to yer own for now. But stay ready. When I return, our Lady Kenna will be with me.”
Rua agreed with a sharp toss of his head and a low-pitched grumble. Even the horse seemed to realize stealth was in order.
Colum paused with his hand atop his sword’s scabbard, strapped to the saddle. Nay. Too cumbersome for this battlefield. If a blade had t’be used, it best be the dagger. Good close and just as deadly if thrown from a short distance. He pulled free his longbow and quiver of arrows. Aye. Even better.
Satisfaction settled Colum’s resolve as he smoothed a palm along the polished belly of his favorite bow—the treasured gift he’d thought foolishly lost. Diarmuid had a conscience after all. He’d pressed the weapon into Colum’s hands when news of Lady Kenna’s kidnapping had spread through the keep. Colum snorted out a bitter, silent laugh. Diarmuid had also made Colum swear an oath of secrecy about his returning the weapon. After all, he’d said, he had a reputation t’keep. But both men realized this bow was meant for such a task as this. ’Twas swift and silent.
The drenching curtain of light mist had changed to the beginnings of a bone-chilling rain. Bits of ice stung his face as Colum patted Rua’s flank one last time. “I leave ye to it, old friend. Keep close to the road, mind the wolves, and watch for my return.”
Rua flicked an ear before melting into the darkness of the wood on the high side of the trail. The crunch of his hooves through the frosty underbrush slowly faded as the horse moved away.
Colum squinted up into the night sky. Not a single star winked back at him. Nothing showed through the tops of the pines but the blue-black softness of threatening storm clouds. He shrugged his plaid higher across his shoulders and silently trotted up the growing slipperiness of the roadway.
As the freezing rain increased in strength, the smell of smoke disappeared. Colum paused a half second, absorbing every sound and scent. Surely, their camp couldna be too far ahead. Anticipation surged through him, heated his blood better than a deep swallow of whisky.
The sleet pelted down faster. Droplets of ice rattled through the trees like pellets
poured from the sky. Ice crystals hopped across the sheen of freezing mud along the path. Colum quickened his pace. Sutherland best ha’ made proper shelter for Kenna. His love wouldna be accustomed to the harshness of such a mountain storm.
A pale yellow light winked and flickered through the maze of slick black trunks to the left of the narrow roadside. Excitement tingled through Colum. Aye, there ye be. Sutherland’s camp had to be just up ahead.
Colum eased through the trees, rolling his steps from heel to toe, moving silent as a specter. The unmistakable scent of wet animals and cold damp woods hung heavy in the air. The fire’s glow strengthened, spreading farther through the trees. Colum halted and took in the surroundings.
Horses, all with dark plaids draped across their backs, were tethered to a sagging rope stretched between two trees. The soaked mounts huddled close against the inclement weather. The three-sided wagon sat a bit higher up the hillside, its dark wet sides glistening in the weak firelight.
Colum counted the bodies sprawled in huddled piles around the fire. Seven. Was it seven of Sutherland’s men or was Kenna one of the plaid-covered forms curled closest to the hissing flames?
Movement at the opposite edge of the glowing circle caught Colum’s attention. He eased closer, straining to see through the haze of darkness and freezing rain.
Sutherland. Hatred shook through Colum, tightening every tendon to readiness. The silver of the man’s hair flickered in the poor light as he walked toward the other side of the encampment.
Colum’s jaw cracked as he clenched his teeth. There, with a length of chain wrapped around her waist and shackled to a nearby tree, was Kenna. The bastard Sutherland had tied her off like a hound awaiting the hunt. Rage shook through him. He would wrap that chain around Sutherland’s throat and snap the man’s neck with it.
Sucking in a deep breath of the frigid air, Colum returned his gaze to Kenna’s face. His fury would serve him better later. He had to stay calm and plan well.
Kenna’s skin shone pale and delicate in the flickering light of the fire. Her dark lashes feathered across colorless cheeks as she shivered in her sleep, huddled at the base of the tree. Did the bastard no’ have enough sense to get her closer to the fire or shield her from the rain?
Colum pulled the muted colors of his hunting plaid over his hair and crouched low behind the tangled branches of leafless brush. He had to get closer. His love didna look well at all.
As Colum moved, he kept his focus trained on Sutherland. The silver-haired man made his way ever closer to Kenna with slow calculating steps. Colum slid his dagger free of its sheath and rolled its weight in the palm of his hand. If the son of a bitch so much as touched Kenna, ’twould be the last thing the man did afore he traveled to meet his maker. Colum tensed as Sutherland came to a stop at Kenna’s feet.
Colum couldna see Sutherland’s face, but he could only imagine the man’s lecherous expression. He turned the knife in his hand, gripping the very tip of the blade and taking aim for the throw. From this distance, the knife would easily bury itself into the base of Sutherland’s skull. Perfect. Albeit a bit too quick an end for Colum’s liking, considering the bastard deserved to suffer for all he had put Kenna through.
Colum straightened a bit as Sutherland unwound layers of a dark heavy plaid from about his body and crouched toward Kenna. Colum raised the knife, angling for the throw.
Sutherland took the length of the cloth and carefully spread it across Kenna’s body, then tucked it about her shivering form. The silky material of the man’s dark léine glistened with wetness as the sleeting rain poured down his broad back. He reached across Kenna and pulled forward several branches of pine. The boughs were dense with thick tangled bunches of lush green needles. He forced the sharpened ends of the thatched foliage into the muddy ground and bowed them over Kenna into a makeshift shelter. Just before he backed away, he lightly traced a finger along the line of Kenna’s cheek.
Colum lowered the knife as Sutherland stood. The chieftain stared down at Kenna for a long moment, then turned and walked back to the fire. What the hell was the bastard’s plan? He’d decided to leave Kenna to her sleep? Just as well. He preferred killing Sutherland slowly, and with as much suffering as possible. Colum melted deeper into the shadows and headed toward Kenna.
Chapter 25
Kenna’s nose twitched. Pine sap. Wet wool. And some sort of spice? Was it cloves or cinnamon? Kenna eased in a deeper breath as she sank back against the hard curve of the tree. Definitely cloves. She barely cracked open an eyelid, just in time to watch a set of muscular calves and muddy boots walk away. The soothing warmth of the damp plaid bunched about her body urged her to forget her troubles and go back to sleep. Absolutely not. Kenna risked opening one eye a bit more and forced herself to focus. She needed to stay alert. She could sleep when she made it back home.
The muddy boots and legs belonged to Ronan. Kenna held her breath as she snuggled the heavy wool farther over her face. Hopefully, Ronan would just think she was searching for more warmth in her sleep and his irritating perception wouldn’t pick up on the fact that she was wide awake.
Thankfully, Ronan remained oblivious to her shifting. The man stood staring down at the fire, his face drawn into a thoughtful scowl.
In spite of all that had happened, Kenna’s heart twitched a bit. Poor Ronan looked so
sad—so alone. Did he still mourn all he had lost? Had he actually loved both of his previous wives? The man seemed frozen in time as he stared unblinking at the flames.
Ronan finally jerked as though freeing himself from some sort of hold. After feeding several more logs to the fire, he propped himself against a chunk of limestone jutting out from the embankment, then leaned back and closed his eyes.
The wet logs popped and sizzled, shifting with a whispered thud and shooting sparks up into the night. Without emerging from her pine-scented nest, Kenna scanned the campsite. Everyone slept, huddled deep in their plaids against the steady sleet shushing down through the trees.
Kenna slid a thumb under the chain wrapped around her waist and yanked. Dammit. If only they had given her back her knife. Maybe then she could’ve used the blade to spread apart the twisted links and weaken them enough to snap her bonds. Kenna sighed and released the chain. Unfortunately, her captors weren’t stupid.
A distinct rustling louder than the pelting rain focused Kenna’s attention to the woods behind her. What the heck is that? Cautiously, she lifted her head and silently counted the sleeping men scattered around the campsite. Seven men plus Ronan. That was everybody. Holy crap. What if there was some kind of animal sniffing around back there, looking for a snack? She’d heard wolves earlier. She shivered and strained to identify the noise.
Kenna yanked harder on the chain around her waist. Dammit. Here she was tied to the tree like a big hunk of wolf bait free for the taking. Scooting up into a sitting position, she pushed the plaid away and yanked harder at the chain with both hands.
“Still yourself, lass. D’ye wish to rouse them all?” Colum’s hissed whisper sounded just to the right of the tree, through the thickest layers of pine boughs stacked about her.
Relief flooded through Kenna. She pressed both fists against her mouth as tears of joy blurred her vision. Colum. He was finally here. Then her heart fell as the chain around her waist tugged and sagged back into place. That damn chain. How was Colum going to get her free of that stupid chain?
Kenna scooted back against the tree. Keeping her gaze trained on Sutherland and his sleeping men, she struggled to keep her voice low. “Colum, thank God you’re here—but how are you going to get me free of this chain? The lock is some weird combination-looking thing. I heard a couple of the men bragging about how escape-proof it was because there was no key.”
Colum reached through the thicket of branches and brushed a finger against her check. “Have no fear,” he whispered. “Yer captors were good enough ta gift me wi’ this fine axe. ’Tis an arrogant fool who thinks his enemy so far awa
y he can leave his weapons unattended.”
An axe? Kenna risked a quick glance behind her. She couldn’t make out anything but murky shadows and swaying branches. “They’ll hear you if you try to chop through the chain. Can’t you think of another way?” She squinted into the darkness. Where the devil was he? “Colum?”
“They willna hear me. But they will hear yerself if ye dinna hold yer tongue whilst I work.” The links of the chain quietly rattled, then fell limp to the ground.
Kenna pulled on the chain, delighted when she was able to gather the length of it away from the tree and pile it beside her. “How did you do that? I didn’t even hear a chop.”
“Like this.” Colum snaked the pointed tip of the axe head through the boughs of Kenna’s shelter. He wedged the lethal point of the axe into a link of chain atop a knotted tree root and severed it with a sharp twist. “This chain was no’ meant to withstand such treatment.”
Kenna held her breath against the excitement building inside her. She was free. Escape was finally at hand. With one last glance across the silent camp, Kenna gathered the heavy plaid up into her arms and slid backward through the branches. She bit her lip against making a sound as Colum snatched her by the waist and swung her up beside him.
“I knew—” A silent sob cut off her words, lodging them in her throat. Rendered nearly breathless from the emotions pounding through her, she tried again. “I knew you’d find me,” she whispered. Snuggling closer, she brushed her lips against the warm strength of Colum’s throat, breathing in as he crushed her against his chest. Her heart lifted as the scent of him soothed her in the most basic, primal way. Everything was going to be all right. Colum was here and she was going home.
My Highland Bride (Highland Hearts #2) Page 17
