A shadow fell across Ronan’s features for a brief moment then disappeared just as quickly. Without a word, he bent and placed first one dagger and then the other into the leather sheaths strapped to his calves. His movements were slow and purposeful, almost painful, as though he was trapped in a battle with his own demons. Ronan straightened and faced Mairi. His expression chilled her to the bone.
“I leave at dawn.”
“You leave at dawn?” Mairi shook her head. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I can trust no other to fetch Máthair and Graham. I willna risk another’s life to bring them here so this evil can be purged.” Ronan slowly made his way toward the windows across the room, glaring at the oiled squares of parchment as though the entire ordeal were their fault. “If she completed the trip to Draegonmare, ’twill take nearly a month to get there and back at this time of year, barring any winter storms. If she merely took to the Highland wilderness for safety, I will return sooner.”
“I’m going with you.” Mairi ignored her sisters’ sharp intake of breath at her announcement. “But before we leave, I need the truth.”
“Perhaps we best leave the two of ye to yer discussions.” Gray motioned them all toward the door.
Mairi held up a hand. “No. I want you all here. I want my family around me…to witness.” She kept her gaze locked on Ronan. Apprehension glimmered in his eyes. Good. His reckoning was nigh. If he didn’t tell her the complete truth this time…Mairi swallowed hard and silently swore an oath to herself. If he didn’t tell her the complete truth this time, she’d never trust him again. “Tell me, Ronan. All of it. I want the details of this curse.”
Ronan’s shoulders slumped with a weary sigh as he stared down at the floor. “Ye already ken the details well enough. Mistress Eliza and I already explained.”
“I don’t think so.” Mairi eased a pace closer, calculating every word and move. He wasn’t weaseling around the truth this time. “I know the results of the curse—the immortality and the Fates’ reprimand of the Sinclairs. I know the riddle you said your mother heard when the curse took her. But you’ve always been a bit vague when it came to the explicit details and the exact way to break the curse. I know I’m supposedly the secret ingredient, but what the hell is the rest of the recipe for this magical curse-breaking elixir?”
Ronan slowly lifted his head. He clasped his hands in front of his waist and widened his stance. His face hardened into an emotionless mask as he rolled his shoulders.
“Ye must wed me.”
“Wed you?”
“Aye.” Ronan nodded. “And Graham and Máthair must be present to witness.”
Mairi fisted her hands in the folds of her skirt, willing herself not to react. Ronan had never said they had to get married to break the curse. She thought it was just a matter of her laying hands on his mother and friend and healing them. She eased in a deep shaking breath. It all made sense now. The protective attentiveness and incredible sex were nothing more than a calculated strategy to lower her defenses. Ronan needed a token wife, and she was the gold coin stamped with the winning number. A cold certainty settled over her as her heart resurrected its old protective walls. Fine. She’d get the job done then shed herself of her sham of a marriage by jumping back to the future. After all, once she returned to the twenty-first century, her husband would be considered long dead.
Mairi straightened her shoulders and swallowed hard. She’d be damned if she gave him the satisfaction of an explosive reaction—which was what he expected, from the look of dread currently plastered across his face. “Is that all of it? Are there any other details I need to know about this…” Mairi flipped her hand as though shooing away a fly. “About this…curse?”
Ronan stood taller. “Nay.” The muscles across his broad chest and shoulders rippled as though his body was tensed to spring.
A pointed ahem echoed from the corner of the room.
Mairi turned in time to catch Granny giving Ronan a threatening look. Mairi turned back to Ronan. “This is your last chance to tell me the complete truth. All of it.” She raised a tensed hand and jabbed an accusing finger at him. “If there are any more surprises, any more omissions…we’re done.” Mairi shook her head. They were pretty much done anyway, but she’d wait until later to spring that revelation on Mr. Lie-by-omission.
Ronan steadied his stance and lifted his chin higher. “I understand…there is nothing else I wish t’add.”
Chapter 21
“Yer a damn fool. She’ll skin ye alive when she lays eyes on yer wolf mother and yer dragon friend. And what the hell do ye think she’ll do when she sees ye shift?”
Ronan balanced his forearms atop the wagon’s side and shook his head. “If I play this just right, she’ll no’ see them ’til they’ve resumed their natural forms.” He slowly turned and glared at Gray. “And I’ll ne’er shift in front of her—ever.”
Gray shook his head. “How the hell will ye keep them hidden when the woman’s goin’ wi’ ye to fetch them?”
“She is no’ goin’ wi’ me.” Ronan sucked in a deep breath of the icy air and held it against the pain gnawing at his core. “Winter in the Highlands is no place for a woman. Ye ken that as well as I.”
Gray tightened a rope lashed about several bundles. “Aye. Ye have the truth of it there, but ye ken there’ll be hell to pay when ye tell her of yer plans.”
“Aye—I’ve already worked up quite the debt with hell. I might as well add this to the tally.” Ronan circled to the other side of the wagon and yanked on the rope. “Better to endure the pain of a tongue-lashin’ than bear the ache of watchin’ the woman I love freeze to death.”
“And how do ye plan to wed the lass in the presence of yer mother and Graham without her noticin’ there’s a wolf and a dragon standin’ amongst the witnesses?”
“Ye’ve a fine deep loch to hide Graham and caves to hide Máthair.” Ronan shrugged a fur hide about his shoulders and secured it with a heavy brooch encrusted with the Latin phrase a mundo ultra. A world beyond. The ancient phrase that opened the mists and allowed access to the reality of Draegonmare, his ancestral keep built on the shores of Loch Ness. “Ye can wed us on the bit of ground between the caves and the water. Máthair and Graham can witness the joinin’ and all will finally be settled.”
Gray shook his head. “Would it no’ be easier just to tell her, man? Ye weave a treacherous path when ye use the slippery stones of half-truths.”
Ronan clenched the knotted rope and yanked so hard, the rough fibers burned his palm. “I canna lose her. To do so would mean losing m’verra soul.”
Gray clapped him on the shoulder with a sad shake of his head. “I ken that feelin’ well, m’friend. At times I’ve wondered if it be a blessing or a curse to love a Sinclair woman.”
“Aye,” Ronan agreed.
A deeper uneasiness rubbed an icy hand across the hairs on the back of his neck. Ronan spared a glance back at the gray green of the sea churning out to the cloudy horizon. What miserable evil did those waves hide? And would that evil remain at MacKenna Keep or follow him to Draegonmare? That was the one fear he couldna assuage. Was he leaving his precious Mairi unprotected?
A heavy thud drew his attention back to the wagon. Two burly men hoisted another stained wooden keg up into the wagon and rolled it to the front, snug against its twin.
“Two barrels of fine MacKenna whisky?” Ronan turned to Gray, now standing a few feet back from the rear of the wagon as he scrutinized the loading of supplies.
“Aye.” Gray spoke without smiling, his dark hair flying wild in the cold winter wind. “ ’Tis a long journey and ill-advised for this late in the season. MacKenna whisky will warm ye better than any fire.”
Ronan hooked one hand atop the wagon’s side. “I dare not wait ’til spring to finish this task.” Gray knew as well as he, ’twas far more risky to stay at MacKenna Keep with the curse unbroken than pass through the Highlands in the midst of winter.
Gray stared at him a long moment before he spoke. “I wish this done and over.”
Ronan nodded. “As do I, m’friend.”
“Brother.” Gray held out his right arm, hand open, palm up.
Ronan linked his own sword arm with Gray’s, his heart warming with the gesture. “Aye.” Ronan acknowledged the pact with a curt nod. “My brother.”
A scrawny lad with a runny nose led Airgead slowly across the bailey. The boy raked his dark sleeve across his face and sniffed before tying the silver gray horse’s reins to the side of the wagon.
“I canna accept another fine horse from yer stables.” Ronan smoothed a hand down the great horse’s muscular neck then patted his side. He felt an affinity with the blue roan, but he couldna accept such a valuable beast.
“Consider it a wedding gift.” Gray waved a hand toward the piles of blankets and cloth sacks of provisions stacked in the back of the wagon. “Know our blessing is upon yer vows whene’er ye return to say them.”
Ronan nodded. Words escaped him. He hoped and prayed the vows would in fact be said. A knot tightened at the core of his chest. Mairi had been strangely cold ever since yesterday in the solar. He supposed he couldna blame her. Not after witnessing such a strange unholy sight. But something deep in his gut told him ’twas much more than the attack troubling his dear sweet lass. Whene’er he caught her studying him, he nay cared for the hurt he saw in her eyes.
Ronan turned and searched for the small cloaked figure huddled atop the skirting wall. His heart was heavy with the task before him. Mairi had already bid a tearful goodbye to her family. Now she stared out at the sea, waiting for the final supplies to be packed. He had yet to tell her, she’d no’ be crossin’ the Highlands with him.
“Patience, man.” Gray clapped a hand atop his shoulder. “A Sinclair woman takes a great deal of patience.”
Without taking his gaze from the lone figure silhouetted against the ever-lightening gray of the sky, Ronan barely shook his head. “I fear I have no time for patience. She has to be mine. I canna imagine life without her at m’side.”
“Leave it to the gods and the Fates, man.” Gray shrugged the wool pelt tighter about his shoulders and squinted up at the sunless sky. “Ye might as well. Both do what they damn well please.”
Truer words were ne’er spoken. Ronan turned back to the wagon just as three men, clothed for the severest of weather, led three heavily packed horses to the center of the bailey. One of the men tossed the reins of his mount to the man closest to him then hurried over to Ronan and Gray.
“We be ready, m’chieftain.”
Gray settled one hand atop the man’s shoulder and turned him toward Ronan. “Daegan MacKenna and his brothers…” Gray paused and looked toward the other two men waiting across the courtyard. “…Dirk and Doughal will travel wi’ ye.” Gray clapped his hand harder against Daegan’s shoulder and gave him a meaningful shake. “These three can be a worrisome lot but they’re strong and fearless and willna shame the MacKenna name when it comes to battle.”
“ ’Tis my hope there will be no need for battle.” Ronan studied the three young men more closely. He appreciated Gray’s concern, but he nay needed any help when it came to crossing the Highlands. All he need do was trust his wolf to find the quickest route. If not for the fact it would stir Mairi’s suspicions even further, he’d leave all the supplies at MacKenna Keep, and then when all had retired for the evenin’, he’d shift into his wolf and lope across the Highlands. But no—he couldna risk it. Mairi had grown too watchful and the look of distrust in her eyes made his heart ache. He nodded toward the men. “Ye realize what they’ll witness once they reach Draegonmare?”
“Aye.” Gray released Daegan and motioned for him to return to his waiting brothers. As the broad-shouldered lad trotted back to his horse, Gray huffed out a strained sigh. “And that too is for the best. Those lads need temperin’ by such sights, and ’twill also give several nearby clans time to cool down. My hope is also that a few wandering wives will rekindle a bit of interest in their own husbands rather than the MacKenna rogues who’ve been visitin’ their beds.”
Ronan understood completely now. Apparently, Daegan and his brothers had dallied a wee too much with wives of high-ranking clansmen. What better way to cool a young man’s wandering ways than to send him across the Highlands in the middle of winter, to a strange keep most ne’er knew existed?
Two lads scurried forward, bending low under the weight of shoulder yokes bearing baskets filled with cloth-wrapped bundles. They settled the baskets on the ground and backed out from under the poles. Working together, they hefted the baskets up into the wagon and lashed them securely to the sides with rope.
“That be the last of it.” Gray squeezed Ronan’s shoulder then turned toward the entrance to the keep. “I’ll no’ be watchin’ ye go. Sinclair women say if ye watch a kinsman’s departure, ye risk ne’er seeing them again. Those women are too wise when it comes to what the future holds. I’ll no’ challenge their superstitions and risk angering the Fates.”
“I owe ye a great debt.” Ronan lifted his black woolly cloak from the side of the wagon and shrugged it around his body.
“Ye owe me nothing.” Gray walked away, his right hand lifted in farewell. “May the gods be with ye, brother. I fear yer going to need them.”
“Aye,” Ronan whispered. I fear the same.
Chapter 22
Mairi turned away from the blowing snow and snuggled tighter against Ronan’s side. Damnation, it’s cold. She pulled her fur-lined hood lower over her face and bit her tongue to keep from bitching out loud. The weather wasn’t Ronan’s fault. In fact, he’d been determined she stay at the keep and wait for his return. A sense of satisfaction flickered through her. He’d quickly lost that battle. Ronan Sutherland didn’t realize the stubbornness of a Sinclair woman. After an hour of shouting, cursing, and angry tears, Ronan had finally admitted defeat. Mairi sniffed and shifted on the hard seat of the wagon. She wished her stubbornness could do something about warming her frozen ass.
Her irritation bristled as the wagon lurched into a dip in the frozen road then jerked forward so hard she bounced atop the cold hard wooden plank. Damn him. The weather might not be his fault, but the fact they were traveling across the Highlands at the worst possible time of the year most certainly was. If he’d been honest with her, maybe they could’ve avoided this uncomfortable wallow through the winter wonderland.
“We’ll bed down here and wait out the worst of the storm,” Ronan shouted over the gusting wind.
Mairi didn’t bother answering. He wouldn’t be able to hear her anyway.
The wagon shuddered to a stop. Mairi peeped out from beneath her hood. All she could make out in the world of white were dark hulking figures stomping slowly through the storm. Clutching her cloak tight against her throat, Mairi scooted to the side of the wagon where Ronan waited.
The woolly black fur of his cloak was dusted white, his face red with the wind. Snowflakes caught hold of Ronan’s eyelashes and the beginnings of his silvery beard as though determined to bury him alive. He squinted against the freezing wind as he held up his hands to Mairi.
Mairi’s heart lurched, but she steeled herself against any kind thoughts toward Ronan. No way. None of that. Never. Again. She bent and placed her hands on his shoulders as he took hold of her waist and set her on the ground. Damn him straight to hell. Why hadn’t he been the one to tell her about his supposedly short marriage to Kenna? Why hadn’t he told her that to break the curse she’d have to marry him? Omitting the truth had gotten him in hot water before. Hadn’t he learned anything? Why was it so hard for him to be honest? What else had he failed to tell her?
A nagging thought jabbed her heart with an icy claw. Was he lying about his feelings too? Was he just saying he loved her to get her to break the curse? Mairi clenched her teeth and bowed her head, avoiding Ronan’s troubled gaze. Now wasn’t the time. All she needed to concentrate on was surviving this trip, breaking the
damn curse, and then jumping back home.
“Are ye unwell?” Ronan bent low, peering up into her hood.
Mairi’s heart thumped at the caring and concern reflected in his eyes. He’s simply worried about his little curse breaker. Lose me and he’s stuck with the curse. “I’m fine,” Mairi shouted. She hugged herself against the wind and added, “I’m just cold.” She was cold, all right, but not entirely because of the weather.
Ronan wrapped an arm about Mairi’s shoulders and supported her as they trudged through the ever-deepening snow. Mairi was grateful Trulie had insisted she take her knee-high boots lined with fur. If the drifting snow got much deeper, she’d need thigh-high boots.
Ronan swept the snow off a fallen log and motioned for Mairi to sit. “Ye’ll be out of the wind here. I must go help the lads with the horses.”
Mairi bobbed her head in response; attempting to shout over the storm was too draining. She watched Ronan stomp away until the snow closed a curtain of white around him. Mairi struggled to look around, her multiple layers of clothing hindering much movement.
The air was heavy with the eerie muffled sounds of the storm and the men struggling to set up camp. The thicket of pines clustered about the clearing bowed over with snow, their trunks black and glistening with a coating of ice. The mountain rose sharply to the left, creating a pristine landscape of blinding white dotted with huddled mounds of rocks and shrubs overtaken by the storm.
Grumbling nickers and snorts echoed behind her. Mairi struggled to her feet and shuffled around in the snow. Ronan and the three MacKenna brothers appeared out of the swirling whiteness, leading the horses to the edge of the clearing just behind the fallen log.
Mairi watched as they spread furry hides across the horses’ backs then crumbled several loaves of horse bread across the ground. The horses hurried to eat the coarse bread of peas, oats, and beans before the falling snow buried their food.
My Tempting Highlander (Highland Hearts #3) Page 20
