Kenna tensed against the assault of Colum’s pain and remained silent. She’d had no choice. Someday, he would understand. Maybe. Kenna swallowed hard. No. He’ll never understand. But at least he’ll be alive.
Gray thumped a fist against the side of the wagon and turned away. His broad shoulders slumped as he pulled Trulie into his arms and held her close. He lifted his head and glared back up into the wagon. “I nay made the choice for ye. But I will help ye through this, old friend. M’heart breaks for ye. I know the truth of yer pain.”
Kenna gripped the side of the wagon until the rough wood splintered into her flesh. She closed her eyes and bowed her head as Granny pushed her way up beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “What are they talking about, gal? What the devil is goin’ on here? Why the hell are you all so glum? You should be thrilled our Colum’s alive. He may not even walk with a limp once he’s had a chance to finish healing. Why is everyone acting so? It appears to me that there’s been more lost here than what I’m seein’.”
Kenna didn’t answer. She just sagged back against the wagon’s side and pressed her face against her hand, still gripping the wooden slat. How had life gotten so complicated? How was she ever going to get through this?
“Kenna! Answer me, gal. What the devil has been lost here? Colum’s alive. Why is he talkin’ so?” Granny squeezed her arm as she peered into her face.
The cold numbness settled back over Kenna just when she needed it most. Thank goodness. Numb was the only way she’d be able to survive this. Kenna raised her head and glanced back one last time at the despair on Colum’s face before dragging herself to her feet and stumbling to the back of the wagon.
Ronan suddenly appeared and held up his hands to Kenna. A combination of sadness and compassion glimmered in his eyes.
Kenna slid her hands into his and allowed Ronan to lower her to the ground. She held tightly to his arms. She had to get through this without collapsing. Kenna forced her back straighter as she turned to face her family. “Can we please talk about it later? I’m so very tired from all of this.”
“Kenna!” Colum barked out her name, his pain and fury ricocheting the word across the bailey.
Kenna swallowed hard and bowed her head. She couldn’t bear to face him.
“I will ne’er forgive ye, Kenna.” Colum’s voice rasped out, raw and broken. “I will ne’er forgive ye nor stop lovin’ ye ’til they lower me into the grave.”
Kenna didn’t turn or respond. If she didn’t look at Colum, she just might get through this without collapsing. “Granny, I really need to rest.”
Confusion and concern wrinkled Granny’s brow as she adjusted her spectacles higher up the bridge of her nose and glanced from Colum to Kenna. “Why…of course, child. I’m sure Trulie will have a bath taken to our private solar. I’ll get you all cleaned up and tuck you in bed myself.” Gray helped Granny down out of the wagon, then sadly turned away as she hurried to Kenna’s side. “Kismet and I will stay with you as long as you like while the others get Colum cleaned up and settled.” Granny hugged her close and kissed her cheek as though Kenna were still a child. “It’s gonna be all right, gal. We’ll watch over you. I promise. It’s gonna be all right.”
Kenna bit her lip as she gently pulled away from Granny’s embrace. She closed her eyes and leaned closer to Ronan, clutching the arm that was curled about hers. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and lifted her chin. Time to fess up and seal her fate. Time to keep her word. “My husband and I will need our own rooms, Granny. It wouldn’t be proper for me to return to the tower suite I shared with you and Tamhas.”
Kenna ignored Granny’s sharp intake of breath as she turned to Trulie’s dropped-jaw expression. “Would the west tower be okay for us to use for a few days? Could you have the bath sent there?”
Gray cleared his throat as he nudged Trulie out of her stupefied trance. “Of course. West tower rooms. Bath. You and your…” Trulie stalled out and bit her lip as her bewildered stare shifted to Ronan. “…your husband?” “Husband” came out more like a high-pitched squeak instead of an actual word. The title spread like wildfire among the crowd. Astonished whispers hummed through the bailey like the droning of angry bees.
Ronan bowed his head in a graceful nod and tucked Kenna’s arm closer to his side. “Thank ye, Lady MacKenna. A good night’s rest will strengthen the Lady Sutherland for our return trip to Draegonmare. I hope to leave on the morrow.”
“I wish t’hell ye would ha’ left me buried in that damn mountain!” Colum’s roar echoed through the courtyard as his fist pounded once again against the side of the wagon. His enraged howl shook the cart as he fought to free himself of the tangled blankets. Swaying like a wounded beast, Colum dragged himself to the rear of the wagon and glared at Kenna. “Why the hell did ye no’ let me die? How could ye condemn me to such pain?”
The cold numbness shielding Kenna spun her into welcomed oblivion. She gratefully wilted into the spinning void and gave herself to the waiting embrace of the unfeeling darkness.
Chapter 31
Colum slumped sideways in the chair. He yanked free the knot of small pillows the servant had placed at his back and threw them across the room. He needed none of their damnedable comforts. ’Twould take far more than a few goose down pillows to ease the raw ache burning in his soul. He stared unblinking at the coals of the hearth until his eyes burned. The smooth wood of the staff propped against his chair heated beneath the rubbing of his thumb.
Wasn’t it strange how much could change in the wee bit of time it took to blink an eye? One moment, he was alive and whole. His woman loved him and all they needed to do was lay claim to the promise the future held: children, home, and growing old together as they walked through the years to the grave. And now…
Colum’s gaze slid to his outstretched leg and its mottled, bruised skin. Fresh scars puckered about the muscles, red and winding around the limb from ankle to hip like a living vine. His leg managed to bear his weight, but the knee refused to fully bend. The wood of the twisted walking staff cracked as Colum imbedded his fingers in the grain.
He would ne’er have believed it if he had no’ witnessed it for himself. Kenna had willingly chosen to join with Sutherland. How could the woman think he’d want such a thing? Where was the honor in livin’ out his days as a cripple? Why would anyone wish t’live just to watch the woman he needed with all his soul go to another man? I’d ne’er wish such a fate on me worst enemy.
She said she did it t’save him. Save him for what? Why the hell could she no’ back out now that she’d gotten what she supposedly wanted? Women changed their wee minds all the time. ’Twas their verra nature. Why the hell could she no’ deny Sutherland and return to where she belonged?
But nay. The woman swore she must keep her word. Colum gripped the arm of the chair until it splintered in his hand. Perhaps ’twas no’ just her word she kept. Perhaps she had just decided she had bettered her life, saved herself from weddin’ a pathetic cripple.
Colum knotted his hand and rubbed his knuckles across his forehead. It had taken Kenna little time to shed herself of a penniless, useless man and claim the lofty place of a Highland chieftain’s wife. Colum growled against the painful thought. Nay. Not his Kenna. Surely, he had it wrong. How could it be so? Aye…but if not so, then where the hell was she at this verra moment?
The heavy oak door to the outer hallway slowly creaked open wide enough for a nervous maidservant to peep inside. Her head bobbed once in a jerking, satisfied nod before she wormed her way through the narrow opening and scurried into the room. A tray laden with a cup, a small ewer, and a platter covered with a bit of linen was balanced between her hands. “Cook sends meat and drink,” she announced as she slid the tray onto the small round table beside Colum’s chair, then hurriedly backed out of the room.
Colum leaned away from the table on his weak side and stared down at the tray. A humorless snort escaped him as he slowly shook his head. The nervous maid had
forgotten that his left arm still rested in a sling until the mystically knitted and healed muscles strengthened—if they ever did. Lore a’mighty. Why did they no’ just let me die?
Colum lurched up from the chair and hobbled across the room to the only window. The narrow portal stretched from nearly the height of Colum’s knees to well above his head. The well-built arrow slit faced the rear of the keep. The perfect place for a man skilled with a bow to stand and keep watch. His place. The place where he used to protect those within from the danger of those who would do them harm. Colum grit his teeth. He’d ne’er feel such satisfaction again for a great while—if ever. His bandaged arm ached at the thought of pulling back a taut bowstring.
He yanked aside the heavy tapestry hung across the narrow opening. The brisk air sweeping in from the sea rushed in as he leaned forward and peered down into the torch-lit gardens. The distant memory of watching Kenna many times from this verra spot unsettled him and shoved him back into the room.
“What the hell happened back in that wood, Colum?” Gray stood just inside the open doorway.
Colum allowed the tapestry to fall back in place over the window. Disgust curdled deep in his gut. He was already useless. His keen perception had already dulled. He hadna even heard Gray enter the room.
Colum shook his head as he shuffled with a slow hitching gait back to the chair in front of the hearth. “Damned if I know,” he said with a shrug of his good shoulder. “ ’Twas over before it truly began.” He snatched the tankard from the tray, turned it up, and drained it. He raked the back of his hand across his mouth and closed his eyes against all his life had become.
A slow sweet burn trailed down his gullet. The pity reflected in Kenna’s eyes filled his mind. Colum slammed the cup back to the tray and reached for the pitcher. ’Twould take many more drinks than the tray held to wipe her image from his mind.
“Had Kenna already agreed t’be that bastard’s wife by the time ye found her?” Gray slammed the door shut and strode over to the hearth.
Colum stared into the flames. Bits and pieces of all that had happened during that damn journey spun through his foggy memory. He scrubbed a hand across the thick stubble covering his chin. Nay. She had no’ agreed to be Sutherland’s wife before he saved her. She had no’ agreed until she was unable to pull him free of the earth after that damnedable mudslide.
Colum closed his eyes. He clearly remembered it all in such detail his heart could hardly bear it. Kenna. Sleeping alone. Chained to a tree. The stolen axe. The sweetest kiss he had ever tasted when he had broken her free. “It was after I freed her from the chains. It was after we’d nearly escaped the bastard and his men.”
“Chains?” Gray rumbled the word out with a low-pitched growl. “The bastard held her in chains?”
“Aye.” Colum scowled down at the floor. Lore a’mighty. Struggling to remember all that had happened over the past few days made his head ache as badly as his heart. “A weak chain. One used for pups. I broke it easily with an axe.”
Gray gawked at him openmouthed as if he thought Colum had lost his mind.
A cold mixture of rage, disbelief, and betrayal shot through Colum all at once when he relived the exact moment Kenna agreed to be Ronan’s wife. “She gave her oath to him after the accident, when she couldna pull me free of the landslide by herself. She said she did it t’save m’life. But perhaps there was more. Perhaps she knew I would be crippled and she wanted no part of a life with a useless pauper.”
“That canna be.” Gray shook his head. “Kenna is no’ like that. The woman loves ye to the point of distraction. Think back, man. Has she no’ been nettlin’ ye for weeks on end to get on with a wedding?” Gray paced back and forth across the room, rubbing at the back of his neck as though his head was about to become unscrewed. “What ye say canna be true. The Sinclair women are all the same. Neither their loyalty nor their love is won easily—and once won, ’tis ne’er lost.”
“I know what I know.” Colum almost choked on the angry hopelessness burning the back of his throat. He raked his arm across the narrow table beside the chair and knocked its contents to the other side of the room. He stared down at the mess, his voice cracking, and his words coming out in a low rasping hiss. “Ye canna deny what ye ha’ seen with yer own eyes.” His breaking heart choked off his air as he jabbed a trembling finger toward the narrow bed back in the shadows of the room. “Look, man. There stands m’bed. Do ye see it? Do ye see the emptiness of it? Can ye no’ feel the chill in those dark shadows? Kenna made her choice of the bed she would warm, and it damn sure wasna mine!”
Chapter 32
The soothing scent of lavender wafted across her face as a cool damp cloth pressed against her temple. Kenna inhaled a deep breath and fluttered open her eyes.
“I knew lavender would coax you back.” Granny smiled and bobbed her head with a satisfied nod. She returned the cloth to the earthenware bowl sitting on the side table, then patted Kenna’s arm as she lowered herself to the stool beside the bed. “Trulie and Coira are here. Do you feel up to telling us what’s really going on with this mess that’s landed on our doorstep?”
Kenna glanced down at her filthy tattered clothes and bruised and bloodstained arms. “I can’t believe you put me on the bed as nasty as I am.” She wrinkled her nose as she shifted sideways on top of the rough blanket spread across the bed. The delicate lavender scent did nothing to hide the stench of her unwashed body. Once she was clean, she’d feel like talking…maybe. “I really need a bath. Is the tub ready yet?”
Trulie leaned against the footboard of the bed, frowning down at Kenna as though she were a disobedient child. She jerked her head in the direction of the oversized tub waiting in front of the hearth. “You’re not getting a bath until you tell us what’s going on. What’s this crap about you being Ronan’s wife?”
Coira plopped an armload of linens down on the bed, then folded her hands atop them. Her concerned scowl mirrored Trulie’s frown. “Perhaps the cur forced himself upon her when there were none there to defend her.”
Granny’s voice took on a cold hollow tone. “Is that what happened, gal?” She crossed her thin arms over her chest and peered over the wire-rimmed glasses that had slid to the end of her nose. “There is no shame in admitting the loss of one battle, Kenna. If that’s what happened, you must tell us so we can take care of winning the war. Out with it, gal. All of it. Now.”
So much for being nurtured after a life-changing ordeal. Granny never had been one to coddle. Kenna scooted to a sitting position and elbowed more pillows behind her back. “I think I’d feel more up to this interrogation if I could get my bath first.” She cringed as she peeled away a layer of soiled linen stuck to one arm.
“I told you.” Trulie rounded the end of the bed. “Talk first. Bathe later…while Granny and I are deciding what to do about whatever you tell us.”
Kenna swung her legs off the bed and perched on the edge. She’d been through family interrogations before—Trulie and Granny had no problem with double-teaming their prisoners. But it was usually over something insignificant, like breaking curfew or borrowing clothes without asking. Kenna folded her hands in her lap and huffed out a weary sigh. She really wasn’t in the mood to be treated like a snotty little brat who’d dared to break the rules. This situation was complicated. “Would it kill the two of you to give me a little time? A little breathing room?”
“Don’t give me that attitude. You know I can ‘outstubborn’ you in a heartbeat. Now, what’s going on?” Trulie shook her finger irritatingly close to the tip of Kenna’s nose as she settled down on the edge of the mattress. Her scowl softened to a look of concern and her voice lowered to an ominous hiss. “You can tell us, Kenna—everything.”
Kenna massaged her knuckles against her temples. The dull throbbing pain had returned. Why had she ever opened her eyes? She should’ve known better. “Ronan did not force himself on me.” Kenna stared wistfully at the tub across the room. She should’ve stayed motio
nless in the bed and played possum until they all went away. She knew their interrogation was inevitable, but she had really hoped to postpone it a bit longer.
“Then why are you claiming to be his wife?” Granny glared down at Kenna like a sharp-eyed hawk about to pounce on its prey. “Out with it, Kenna. Now.”
“And why did you say it publicly?” Trulie chimed in without taking her gaze from Kenna’s face. Kenna could tell by Trulie’s narrowing eyes that oldest sister had kicked into scheming mode and was about to come up with the miserable truth. “You know when you say it publicly, it’s…” Trulie waved a hand as though shooing away a fly. “…it’s binding. Everyone considers you man and wife.”
“I’ve heard of such things.” Coira bobbed her head in agreement as she refolded a square of linen for the tenth time. “I’ve e’en heard tell the woman doesna have to say a word. I’ve heard ’tis just as legal if only the man claims it so.”
“Yes…well, it sticks better if they both say it.” Granny leaned forward and propped her elbows on the edge of the bed. “But the question remains, why did Kenna say it too? We all heard her in the bailey.”
“Because it was best for all concerned. It’s done. Ronan is my husband.” Kenna drew her knees up against her chest and backed tighter against the headboard. She shrugged a shoulder, doing her best to adopt a disinterested attitude. Maybe then they’d leave her alone in her personally built little corner of hell. “There’s really nothing else to say.”
My Highland Bride (Highland Hearts #2) Page 22
