A golden path of light widened across the floor as the bedroom door slowly swung open. Ronan stood in the doorway, his hand resting on the latch. Kenna couldn’t quite make out his expression in the shadows, but she got the distinct impression that his face was filled with sorrow. Ronan didn’t say a word. He just stood there, staring at her from across the room.
Kenna chewed the corner of her bottom lip. What the devil was he waiting on? The quicker he got on with it, the quicker it would be over. Hopefully. The horrifying thought of Ronan dragging this thing out for hours tightened another set of knots in her stomach.
“I will ne’er take from ye more than yer ready t’give. Sleep well, Kenna.” Ronan quietly backed out of the room and pulled the door closed behind him.
Chapter 35
The sun crested the farthest peak as he lunged forward, swinging the heavy blade in a deadly arc. His guttural roar shattered the stillness of the morning, then he buried the sword deep in the practice pole. The solid impact shuddered through him, embracing him for the deadly warrior he had once been and was quickly becoming again.
He’d lain awake for most of the night, pondering Mother Sinclair’s words and pairing them with the Lady Trulie’s reasoning about his slow-healing injuries. “Self-pity is a crippling, useless emotion. Man up,” the old woman had said. “Only you can heal your heart and soul,” Lady Trulie had advised. And so, he’d decided to test their wisdom, see if their words were true. Hefting the sword free of the pole, he effortlessly swung it above his head, spinning the weapon back and forth between his hands with fluid ease. Aye. I will be whole again. I will regain my strength.
Colum rolled his shoulders and flexed both arms as he circled the worn caber in the center of the practice field where MacKenna warriors learned how best to use their weapons. A cold sense of determination filled him as he worked the muscles of the arm that was once so stiff. Aye. The Sinclair women kent the truth of it. The elbow now bent as though never injured.
Releasing his fury into an enraged growl, Colum spun on one foot, then kicked upward with his scarred leg, landing the sole of his boot hard against the practice pole. Wood splintered and groaned as the caber slowly teetered to one side. A satisfying pop sounded as Colum landed a second kick that sent the heavy column of wood bouncing across the ground. He was whole again. His muscles burned, and it felt damn good.
Colum slaked the sweat from his forehead as he turned and headed toward the stable. Sutherland had said they’d leave at first light, head back to Draegonmare keep. Colum pumped his arms across his body, flexing the fire of determination through his veins. The bailey was too quiet this morning. If they’d already left, he’d have to ride hard to circle around them and wait at the narrow passage between the twin ridges. There, with God and the Highlands as his witness, he’d serve justice to Ronan Sutherland for all the man had taken from him.
He shoved open the stable door. A quick glance down the far side of the stalls returned him to the cold dead calm of the practice field. Sutherland’s horses were still in their stalls and his men had barely stirred where they slept with slack-jawed abandon in piles of hay.
Good. He and Rua would make it to the pass in good time. ’Twould still be on MacKenna land, but it wouldna stir nearly so much trouble as it would if he killed the man inside the walls of the keep. Gray was like a brother and a good and fair chieftain. Honor forbade Colum from bringing trouble down upon the clan. He’d end this in the Highlands—alone.
“Are ye ready for a wee bit of a ride, m’friend? ’Tis time we leave this place and seek our peace and resolution in the Highlands.”
Rua rumbled with a disgruntled shake of his shaggy head and stepped out of reach. Each time Colum reached for his bridle, the horse sidestepped away.
Colum thumped his fist atop the opened stall door. Damn the stubborn horse. Now was no’ the time for the beast’s foolish games. “Rua. Come t’me. Now.”
Rua tossed his head with a teasing up-and-down bob. He huffed out a daring snort, then scraped the ground with a slow meaningful stomp. His glistening black nostrils flared wide as he bared his teeth and nickered again.
“If ye snot me, I swear I’ll skin ye. Now come t’me, Rua. ’Tis time we left MacKenna keep.”
“So you’re a coward then? Afraid to fight for what is rightfully yours?”
The quiet voice from the shadows of the tack room stood the hairs on the back of his neck on end. Mother Sinclair. Colum sucked in a deep breath. He was damned tired of her meddling in his life. “ ’Tis none of yer affair, old woman. I advise ye ta leave me be.”
“I’ll show you ‘old woman.’ ” Granny’s walking stick connected in a sharp upward strike hard across his buttocks. The stinging thwack lifted him to the balls of his feet.
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that ever again. You are not too old to have some manners knocked into you, and I’m not afraid to be the one to do it. Is your memory of my previous offer to send your ungrateful ass to the future already faded?”
Dammit, he was tired of Granny smackin’ his arse as though he were a bullheaded lad. Colum turned just as Granny raised the staff again. Righteous fire flashed in the old woman’s eyes as she spread her stance and choked up on the walking stick as though preparing to knock him out of the stable.
Colum raised a hand to deflect the threat and backed against the stall. Damn, the woman was stout for one so old. He flexed his arse against the fading sting of her last hit. “I beg yer pardon. Yer right, Mother Sinclair. I meant no disrespect.” Lore help him if that damn staff started to glow again. He had no desire to be sent to some dark unknown future.
Granny slowly lowered the stick, but kept it clenched in front of her slight body as she straightened from her attacking crouch. “Apology accepted.” Granny nodded toward Rua. “I heard what you said about leaving MacKenna keep. You can’t run from this, and I can’t believe you’re even going to try. Face it. Know it. Resolve it.”
“I am no’ runnin’.” Colum bent and picked up the leather sack of provisions he’d packed for the journey. He didna have the time nor the inclination to explain his plan to Mother Sinclair. The old she-dragon would ken the truth of things soon enough.
“She did it for you, you addlepated numpty! She traded her life for yours. You witnessed it yourself.” Granny scowled and thumped the end of her cane against the dry, hard-packed earth. “She won’t tell you the whole story about her sham of a marriage and neither will any of the others, but I’ll be damned if I keep my mouth shut and watch my granddaughter fritter her life away on a man who doesn’t deserve her.”
Colum was no’ entirely sure what “fritter” meant, but he had a pretty good idea. He wound the leather straps of the provision bag around the horn of the saddle, held one strap tight in his teeth, and yanked the other strap hard into a secure knot. Mother Sinclair needed to leave him be. He had to make it to the pass well before Sutherland and his men.
“So that’s it. You’re just going to abandon her? Leave her when she needs you the most?” Granny glared at him over the rims of her spectacles, her thin lips flattened into a disapproving frown.
Colum worked his thumb against the reins wound about his hand. Why would the old woman no’ let him be? He didna have time to explain nor listen to all her nattering. Best let Mother Sinclair believe that he’d accepted the situation for what it was. Maybe then she’d go the hell away. “Lady Sutherland—” Lore a’mighty that name nearly chokes me. Colum sucked in a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Lady Sutherland has no need for a man such as me. She has her husband. She will soon have children. Let it go, Mother Sinclair.”
Granny’s shoulders slumped and her gaze lowered to the ground. She shook her head and eased out a shaking sigh as she slowly turned away. “Fine. I’ll go to Gray. Maybe he’ll have enough gumption to stand up to the man who’s a danger to my granddaughter. Chieftain Sutherland has agreed to stay here one more night for Kenna’s sake. Gray will see to it that she’s removed from h
arm.”
“Danger?” Colum stepped away from Rua. What the hell was Mother Sinclair saying? Removed from harm? What harm?
“Yes. Kenna won’t say so herself but I know she’s not safe.” Granny leaned heavily on the walking stick as she gimped toward the stable door. “I’ve seen men like Ronan before. Kenna won’t speak of it but I’ve seen her bruises. I’m old, but I’m not blind. I know what’s really going on.”
“Bruises?” Scalding rage surged through Colum like a choking gulp of the raw whisky he loved. “The bastard struck Kenna?”
Granny shrugged a thin shoulder and yanked open the stable door. “It’s none of your concern, Colum. Don’t worry about it. The MacKennas and the Sinclairs will handle it.” Granny paused and turned back. Her face puckered with a displeased scowl aimed straight at Colum. “Unlike you, we never abandon our own.” She let the wooden door slam shut behind her.
The bastard dared to strike Kenna? Now, he had even more reason to kill him, and by the gods, he wouldna wait to do it ’neath the cloak of the Highlands. He’d no’ allow Sutherland another night to torment his Kenna. Rage burned hotter with every beat of his heart. He’d end the man this verra evening—with the clan as his witness.
Colum stormed out of the stable and made his way down the far side of the skirting wall to access the outer staircase leading up to his rooms. He needed his best sword and dagger. The practice sword he’d used in the field didna have the weight he longed to feel in his hands when he cleaved Sutherland’s head from his shoulders.
The low murmuring of an irritatingly familiar voice drew his attention to the bit of land just beyond the skirting wall. Colum hoisted himself up to the narrow walkway built around the wall’s rim, keeping crouched low as he moved toward the voice.
“I fear she’s nay the one, Máthair.”
“Máthair”? Colum slowly rose, taking care to remain hidden while peeping over the wall. A sense of shock wrapped icy fingers around his chest and squeezed. The ability to breathe left him for a good bit. He knelt back down on the path, leaned against the wall, and scrubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. No. It canna be. He eased back up and peered over the wall again.
Ronan stood down at the water’s edge, the morning sun reflecting off the silver of his hair with his every move. Standing beside him, raptly taking in his every word, was one of the largest wolves Colum had ever seen. The beast’s rich, plush fur rippled and parted in the gentle breeze as it cocked its head first to one side, then slowly tilted it the other way as Ronan spoke.
Colum swallowed hard, gripping the edges of the block wall so hard the chiseled stone threatened to crumble in his hands. The wolf Sutherland had called “Máthair” wasna nearly as shocking as the unholy beast with the great horned head and black neck sprouting high above the water’s surface. The dark shadow of the beast’s enormous body rippled beneath the waves. Wispy tendrils of smoke curled up from the monster’s nostrils as he brought his head closer to Sutherland’s, then appeared to completely agree with whatever had been said by nodding with a slow up-and-down bobbing of his scaly muzzle.
That settled it. Chieftain Ronan Sutherland would be stopped before he left the keep. No man who had obviously sold his soul to the devil himself would take Kenna—not while Colum lived and breathed.
Colum crept along the narrow path, not straightening to his full height until he reached the shelter of the archway enclosing the staircase to his rooms. He vaulted up the steps two at a time, then hurried down the torch-lit hallway to his chambers. Shouldering open the heavy oak door, he quickly closed it behind him and bolted the lock. He had no time for interruptions by curious chambermaids or lads tending to the rooms. He had a sword to sharpen. He had a murder to plan. Nay. No’ a murder. I have justice t’serve.
Chapter 36
Kenna almost choked on her mead as Colum plowed into the hall with sword drawn and a look on his face that clearly indicated his level of rage had reached critical mass. Granny had said she’d had a chat with him earlier and apparently, she’d more than effectively baited the bear.
All conversation ceased and the gentle vibrations from Coira’s lyre faded as her slender hands stilled the music of the strings. Even Karma was roused, hefting himself up from the floor, then rolling back on his great haunches and perking his ears forward in rapt interest. The air of the room thickened with anticipation.
“My chieftain.” Colum clenched his sword across his body as he came to a halt in front of Gray.
Gray didn’t say a word, just straightened in his chair as though bracing himself for whatever Colum was about to say.
Colum widened his stance and aimed the point of his sword at the center of Ronan’s chest. “I would show this man what happens when he dishonors and disrespects a cherished woman of our clan.” He lifted his sword a hair’s breadth higher and jabbed it toward Ronan. “This man is no’ mighty chieftain. He brings evil to our midst.”
Gray leaned forward and glanced toward Ronan. “What claim do ye make against this man? I would hear it.” He waved a hand to encompass all those gathered in the room. “We would all hear it.”
Kenna slid her cup of mead to the small table beside her chair. She couldn’t risk another sip. Nauseating dread already sloshed what little she’d choked down for supper. Please don’t let this end badly. She couldn’t bear it if either man suffered on her account. She loved Colum and considered Ronan an honorable man and friend.
The corded muscles in Colum’s sword arm rippled as he jabbed the tip of the blade even harder toward Ronan’s chest. “This man dared abuse the Lady Kenna. That alone is enough for this challenge. But I also witnessed, with me own eyes, what an unholy abomination this man truly is.”
Kenna held her breath as Ronan slowly rose from the chair beside her. He took a step forward and jerked his chin in Colum’s direction. “State yer evidence, man. I’ll no’ be challenged o’er the tongue-waggin’ of ill-disciplined servants or what a fool besotted wi’ whisky might think he witnessed. Many demons live in the bottom of a bottle.” Ronan huffed out a snorting, humorless laugh. “I’ve no time for such games.”
Colum hitched another step toward Ronan, his face flaming a murderous red and his lips curled back in a teeth-baring sneer. “Her own grandmother has seen the bruises. I have the truth from the Lady Kenna’s own bloodline.”
Ronan clenched his hands to the small of his back and turned to glare at Granny. “Is this true, old woman?”
Granny responded with a curt nod and sat straighter in her chair. “Yes. I told Colum the truth. I have seen Kenna’s bruises.”
Kenna bit the inside of her cheek and fixed Granny with an I-can’t-believe-you-said-that stare. The only bruises she had were the ones from the mudslide. What the hell had Granny told Colum?
Granny folded her hands in her lap, narrowing her eyes the slightest bit as she lifted her chin.
Kenna knew that look. Granny had just told her to keep her mouth shut and watch. A dismal sigh escaped her. This wasn’t going to be good.
Gray’s hands closed into fists atop the arms of his chair. “State yer challenge, Colum.” The chieftain slowly stood and nodded with a sweeping glance toward all gathered in the room. “State yer intent clearly, to be heard by all. All claims will be judged, settled, and witnessed by those gathered here this day.”
Colum hitched forward and rested the tip of his blade against Ronan’s chest. He raised his voice to ring out across the hall. “I challenge ye. Swords. To the death. I intend t’free the Lady Kenna of yer insulting burden. She has no use for a husband such as yerself.” Colum had growled out the word “husband,” leaving no doubt about his feelings toward the term in its current context.
“No.” Kenna sprang from her seat and rushed forward. Not to the death. She’d never be able to live with that.
“Sit, woman. ’Tis past time ye learned yer place as m’wife.” Ronan didn’t spare Kenna a backward glance, just barked the order as though she were one of his hunting d
ogs wandering too far from his heel.
Kenna stared at Ronan. What the hell? He’d never talked to her like that before. Was the new asshole attitude just another facet of this ridiculous testosterone charade?
“Kenna.” Granny spit her name in a hissing whisper. She jerked a knobby finger back toward Kenna’s seat. “Sit. Down. Now.”
Kenna clamped her mouth shut and returned to her chair. She clenched her hands in her lap and prayed they all knew what the hell they were doing.
“It escapes me why ye would risk a challenge for one such as her.” Ronan inclined his silver head in Kenna’s direction. His face twisted into a scowl as though he’d just smelled a very bad stench. “Strong-willed and sharp-tongued, she is. Ye best leave that stubborn one’s breakin’ in t’me. I doubt verra much ye can handle her.” Ronan gestured to Colum’s scarred leg. “Especially as weakened as ye are.”
Colum’s face darkened to a deeper shade of crimson. His voice shook with rage as he pointed his sword at Ronan’s heart. “Yer no’ fit t’care for a litter of mongrels. Yer a bluidy fool and I intend t’do ye the favor of relievin’ ye of this life’s worries.”
Kenna eased back out of her seat and slid behind Gray’s chair. Ronan had pulled his own sword free by this time and the men were slowly circling each other like a pair of raging stags preparing to lock antlers.
Kenna squeezed Gray’s shoulder and clutched at Trulie’s arm. She leaned down between them and lowered her voice. “You two have to stop this. They’re going to kill each other. If one of them dies, I can’t live with it. Please—do something!”
Gray didn’t bother turning, just edged forward and kept his attention focused on the two men. “Let it play out. Much is at stake here. Ye have no idea just how much.”
Trulie didn’t say a word, just sadly shook her head and returned her attention to the fight about to ensue.
My Highland Bride (Highland Hearts #2) Page 24
