The Kindling Heart

by Carmen Caine

  He playfully pulled it away, just a little, and laid his free hand over hers. “Aye, but these wee bundles weigh less than a feather,” he replied. “I canna harm myself with dry grass.”

  His put his left hand over hers, waiting to see if she would pull away, but she held still. Her cheeks tinged a slight pink. That was hardly the response of a lass who despised him. His pulse quickened. Perhaps Reenan was right; he might win her heart if he were careful.

  She tugged the bundle again, and he relinquished it, choosing instead to sit back on the wall.

  “Aye,” he said, feigning weakness simply because he desired to stay in her company. “Mayhap, I should rest a wee spell longer.”

  Concern suffused her features, and he almost felt guilty for misleading her.

  “I can manage,” Bree agreed. “It is easy enough.”

  He smiled, watching her work in silence for a time. She was nervous, uneasy. He searched for something to say, wondering what she would enjoy talking about, when he spied Lorna rounding the corner of the croft. His heart sank. The woman seemed intent on slithering in his direction. As Bree curiously followed his gaze, he succumbed to a rash impulse.

  Rising to his feet, he seized Bree’s arm, pulling her off balance. She fell against him. As her astonished face lifted his way, his lips descended to cover hers.

  Her mouth was warm, soft, and startling.

  He’d kissed many women before, but had never experienced a sensation such as this. For the briefest of moments, her lips opened in response, and he was overwhelmed with a fierce heat that threatened to bring him to his knees. He wanted to cherish, protect, and take her all at once. His hand cradled the back of her head. His fingers twined through her hair of their own accord. She seemed to melt into them, but then, Merry called out, and the moment was lost.

  Disconcerted, Bree pulled back.

  A small part of him was pleased to notice her hesitation. She didn’t seem angry, but he was mostly shocked at his own actions. Where was his control? He’d just vowed to move slowly, to win her heart. Now, he’d undoubtedly ruined his chances.

  “What happened?” Merry joined them, her brows furrowed. “What are ye doing?”

  Clearing her throat, Bree ducked, and began vigorously tossing the hay into the pen.

  Chapter 18: The Kiss

  Rattled, Bree heaved a sigh of relief as Merry led Ruan away. Her cheeks were still flaming; no doubt, they would remain crimson for days. He must have kissed her to infuriate Lorna. While secretly thrilling, it was vastly disappointing.

  Once Lorna had gone, his intent had apparently been accomplished for he had simply walked away.

  She didn’t know whether to cry or to be angry.

  She settled on berating herself. She must have kissed very badly. He’d suddenly become distant, and he hadn’t even said a word.

  He’d simply left, using her to rid himself of Lorna. So, why could she not stop thinking about his lips on hers? His kiss was forceful, gentle, and commanding all at once, much like the man himself, far more intense than she could have possibly imagined.

  It took some time to clear her thoughts.

  When she returned to the croft, she found Ruan asleep on a pallet. His face was still pale.

  “Ach, the lad will be fine, lass,” Reenan promised, as she shooed her children away from the pile of fresh bannocks. “He just needs a wee bit of rest before taking ye on to Cameron.”

  Bree bit her lip and nodded.

  They moved quietly about the croft that night, and when Reenan blew out the candle, she quietly took her place by Ruan’s side.

  It was difficult to sleep, at first.

  Even asleep, the man’s presence was overwhelming. His lips were incredibly distracting. She wished he’d never kissed her, because she suddenly wanted to experience more. She frowned, turning away.

  Somehow, she had to gain control of these strange emotions. After all, he was trying as hard as he could to take her to Cameron where their marriage would be annulled.

  Eventually, she fell into a fitful asleep.

  The sound of a creaking door signaled it was time to wake. She looked up to see Isobel framed against the gentle pink dusting the sky. “’Tis time to be leaving, Ruan,” the woman said.

  “Aye,” Ruan’s deep voice breathed close to her ear.

  Swallowing, Bree turned to find him propped on an elbow, staring down at her.

  They didn’t speak.

  And then, Ruan reached over to brush the hair from her face, his finger trailing her cheek.

  Bree gulped.

  “The ship sails with the tide, lad,” Reenan yawned in the darkness behind them. “I’ve asked several of the lads to drop by this morn to show ye the way.”

  Ruan moved away and sat up. “I’m in your debt, Reenan.”

  “Aye, as always,” she chuckled.

  Bree watched him rise, too confused to interpret his actions, but she was soon too busy helping Reenan with the morning meal and packing their things to give it further thought.

  In short time, they were ready to leave and she stepped outside, peering at the brown heather rolling in gentle waves with the wind. It was odd. Only a month ago, she’d have leapt at the chance to leave Skye, but now she felt a twinge, wondering if she’d ever return.

  She felt a little sad, but only a little, as she joined the others to bid their farewells.

  “Have a wee bit of patience with the man,” Reenan whispered in Bree’s ear, giving her cheeks an affectionate tweak. “He’s–”

  “Aye and I’ll see ye soon, Reenan,” Ruan interrupted, clasping a hand on her shoulder and prying her away before she could speak more.

  “Ach, love,” Reenan protested. She tossed her head and shrugged. “Then, suffer with yer way. If ye but listen–”

  “Aye and I’ve listened,” Ruan cut her short. He nodded briefly at Bree. “’Tis time we left.”

  With final farewells said, they joined several men dressed in brown, MacDonald plaids and saffron yellow shirts. Ruan apparently knew them well. They clasped arms in fond greetings as they moved down the path at a brisk pace.

  “Where are the horses?” Merry asked, skipping along.

  “They belong to Reenan now,” Isobel replied, tossing a small cloth bundle over her shoulder. “We’ll be walking to the boat, lass. ‘Tis only a short step away.”

  “She’s right welcome to them,” Merry said, with a disdainful sniff. “They were useless beasts anyway.”

  The small girl continued to chatter, bouncing ahead to join Ruan, and Bree gratefully fell back behind them all. Though she was unsure of what Reenan had wished to say, it was obviously something Ruan knew and disagreed with. She frowned, wondering why the man had to occupy her thoughts so fully. With a conscious effort, she forced her attention to the scenery unfolding about her.

  The fog had been so heavy on their arrival that she hadn’t realized they were close to the sea. The path to the shore was rough and steep, a narrow passage between two cliffs that led to a fine sandy beach. Above her head, gulls glided on the wind, crying mournfully.

  A large vessel was in the water. Several more men jumped on shore and greeted Ruan warmly. The wind blew in gusts, preventing her from hearing their words, but judging from the startled looks sent her way, she was grateful. She’d no desire to hear Ruan explain her presence. She knew the man thought he was stuck with her. She frowned.

  The boat was old, but seaworthy, filled with kegs and boxes, it was already riding low in the water. Assuring her it was safe, the men lifted her aboard, and she settled in the back with Merry.

  They launched almost immediately. There was no piper playing to keep time, and, for that, Bree was grateful; instead, the men broke into bouts of song, mingled with roars of laughter. Ruan was the loudest among them.

  The waves slapped against the boat, and Bree grimaced, willing her stomach to stay at ease.

  The vessel glided forward, but as they progressed, the wind and waves strengthened. So
on they were bobbing back and forth in a sickening, swaying motion. She tried to concentrate on the dramatic coastal scenery slipping rapidly past her, but it was not long before she lost the battle and leaned over the edge, violently ill.

  She spent the remainder of the day, resting her cheek on the side of the boat, afraid to retch again.

  The sun was well on its descent when Isobel called out, “’Tis almost over, love, Eilean Donan is a welcome sight, even though they be Mackenzies.”

  Cautiously, she raised her head to see a castle perched on a rocky islet a short distance away. Long-horned sheep grazed on the rugged faces of the great tree-clad slopes cradling the loch. The wind had died and the loch appeared smooth as glass, rendering the last leg of the journey much easier until, finally, the boat ground ashore.

  A group of men appeared on the dock, led by a large, rotund man bearing the name of Simon Mackenzie. His broad face broke into a wide grin to see Ruan.

  “Aye, ‘tis twice I’ve seen ye in a month now, lad,” Simon laughed, as they clasped one another in greeting. “Please dinna give me tidings of the MacDonalds that I’ll nae want to hear!”

  “’Tis my own affair this time, Simon,” Ruan’s deep voice replied. “I’m on my way to Cameron.”

  “Ach, now there’s a lad I’ve sore missed!” Simon chuckled as they moved away, exchanging bits of news.

  Bree closed her eyes, lacking the will to move as the men unloaded the kegs and crates. After the rough passage, it was pleasant to sit in the late afternoon sun, even though she was still on the infernal boat. The sudden dips as the men walked about threatened to upset her stomach, but she failed dismally in summoning the strength to disembark.

  Hands slipped around her shoulder and under her knees, jerking her up in one, swift motion. She yelped, startled, and her eyes flew open.

  “Ach, mo ceisd,” Ruan breathed softly in her ear. “Ye canna sleep here.”

  Mo ceisd. His tone made her heart race, even as she frowned at the words that still labeled her a ‘problem’. However, there was no time to think as he swung her over and into Simon’s waiting arms. The man promptly placed her on the shore and Ruan leapt down to join her.

  “Your… shoulder!” She floundered, uneasy over his nearness.

  “Ach, I used my good arm, lass, and ye weigh nae more than a feather,” he said with a half-smile. His hand lifted toward her, but Merry promptly appeared from nowhere to snatch it.

  “Come!” the small girl said a bit petulantly, tugging at his fingers. “I’m weary of waiting!”

  With a laugh, Ruan led them from the sea loch to the narrow steps leading to the castle, moss and golden seaweed clinging to the black rocks on their path.

  Passing under the open gatehouse, they had scarcely stepped foot in the courtyard before they were accosted by an angry man, with grizzled gray hair and a lacework of scars over his left brow. “Ruan!” he shouted. He placed his hand menacingly on his dirk as he added, “How dare ye come here, after what ye’ve done!”

  Ruan’s brows climbed in surprise, “And what do ye mean by that, Dougald?”

  “As if ye dinna ken!” The man shouted, his chin trembling.

  A small crowd began to gather, eyeing them with interest.

  “Ach, well…” Ruan knit his brows. “I’m at a loss—”

  “Ye’ll wed my daughter, my Sheila, this very night!” Dougald raised his dirk, brandishing the blade. “I’ve no desire to harm ye, lad, but I will if ye don’t make this right! I’ve always thought ye a man of honor, until now!”

  Ruan frowned. “Sheila? I’m nae sure…” His voice trailed off in confusion upon spying Dougald’s fierce expression. After a minute, he continued. “Aye, well, I’m certain Sheila is lovely, Dougald, but I’m already wed!”

  Dougald stared and then cursed. He took a step forward, but paused as a young woman pushed her way through the thickening crowd. She stepped from the circle of observers, belly heavy with child.

  Ruan’s eyes narrowed as understanding dawned. “Aye,” he said coldly. “This must be Sheila.”

  “I’ve naught but ill to see,” the angry father spat. “Ye canna wed my daughter as ye should now!”

  “The bairn isn’t mine,” Ruan’s voice grew colder. “And I’ve no recollection of seeing Sheila afore.”

  “Aye, be truthful, lass.” Simon said, stepping up in support of Ruan. “Even Ruan canna get ye with a bairn when he’s nae here.”

  “He was here!” the girl whispered, her lips white. “He came with the Earl of Lennox. He… was drunk, and… and…”

  “That was nigh on twelve months ago,” Simon snorted. “And I know he touched no one. Ach, even if I dinna ken, ye’ve some time yet afore that bairn is dropped.”

  “No!” The girl shook her head, desperately. “’Twas nae even nine months, and the bairn is late.” She covered her head in her arms, sobbing, as several women sympathetically drew her away.

  Doubt crossed her father’s face for the first time.

  Voices rose and then everyone was speaking.

  Taking a deep breath, Bree slipped away from the crowd in search of an escape. She wanted to hide, if only for a few moments, until she lost the sudden urge to cry. She stumbled through the courtyard, and found a spot next to a wall of kegs and crates.

  A hand touched her shoulder.

  She looked up as Ruan caught her chin in his hand and forced her eyes to meet his. “The bairn isn’t mine,” he said.

  She swallowed and finally forced herself to reply, “It… really is none of my affair.”

  “Oh?” he glared at her angrily. “Ask yourself why I’m here, explaining this to ye, then!”

  She looked away, but then a new thought struck her. The words came out before she could stop them. “I’m sure there are plenty of children about that do belong to you!”

  His dark brows drew into a scowl, and she felt oddly ashamed.

  “I have no bairns! If I did, ye would have known,” Ruan replied with a clenched jaw. “Ye think I’m uncommonly vile!”

  Bree bit her lip and glanced away. As much as it hurt to admit, she was only an obligation to the man. She was certainly never desired. He’d obviously forgotten the kiss. He hadn’t mentioned it. But then, it hadn’t been a real kiss to him. She found herself repeating dully, “It…really is no concern of mine. You will soon be free to do as you please when our marriage is… annulled.”

  There was an awkward silence.

  “Aye,” he said finally, his voice cold and distant. “’Twill nae be long now, then. I’ve no desire to be chained in wedlock.”

  A jumble of emotions greeted his words. Inexplicably, the anger of rejection outweighed all others. She raised her head and allowed the hurt in her eyes to show. “That is well, for I’ve no desire for you as a husband!”

  Ruan’s dark eyes burned in response.

  “Aye!” he retorted. “I’ve nae bedded a woman these past three years, and I’d rather pull out my own eyes and tongue with hot pincers before I ever touch another one and that includes ye, lass! ‘Tis right thankful I’ll be to be rid of ye!”

  They stood there, breathing hard, then, as tears threatened, Bree struck out, pummeling his chests with her fists, wanting to make him go away. He stared, stunned, eyeing her fleetingly before stepping back.

  What possessed her? She’d never behaved so irrationally in her entire life.

  “Come, lass,” Isobel’s calm voice unexpectedly asserted itself. “Merry, take her up to the hall.”

  ***

  “I used to think ye understood lassies uncommon well, lad, but ye’ve proved of late ye know less than most,” Isobel said, with a kindly chuckle.

  “Aye and I’ve no desire to learn,” Ruan snapped, attempting to brush past her, but she caught his arm.

  The old woman smiled. “Well, ye might wish to try a wee harder with this one, love.”

  Ruan gave a snort of disdain. “She wants nothing to do with me.” Aye, and he’d only himself to blame. �
�I’m sure ye must have heard. She wants her annulment and a cottage by the sea.”

  “Well, ye’ve hardly been talking to the wee lass, if she thinks ye still want this marriage annulled, love,” Isobel laughed a little. “She likely thinks that kiss of yours meant nothing to ye.”

  “Kiss?” Ruan frowned, flinching in embarrassment. Of course, Isobel must have seen.

  “Aye,” She laughed, reading the nature of his thoughts. “What exactly have ye said to her about it? I’d say nothing, judging by what just took place.”

  He didn’t have to reply. She knew him too well.

  “Love, how could ye be so foolish? She probably thinks–” Isobel began.

  “Be done!” Ruan interrupted. Taking a deep breath, he continued in a softer tone, “Thank ye for your concern, but I’ve had my fill of this for now.”

  Thankfully, she nodded, but her aged eyes were twinkling.

  Eilean Donan’s hall was alive with merriment. The candles burned brightly in the large iron chandelier suspended from the heavy oak timbers spanning the ceiling. Torches flickered on the walls.

  Only a month ago, he had ridden here with Robert, to ease the Mackenzie concerns over Cuilen’s clan. He clenched his fists a little. Aye, Robert had been alive then. It wasn’t so long ago.

  Simon had informed him that The Mackenzie had left with a band of men. He hadn’t told Ruan where they had gone. He didn’t have to. Ruan knew they were headed north, to Fearghus. To know that Fearghus was now dealing with Mackenzie trouble suited him just fine. His only regret was that he hadn’t killed the man when he had the chance.

  Lady Elspeth Mackenzie was already presiding at table when he entered; she beckoned to him immediately, giving him no time to search for Bree. Not that she wanted to see him, he reminded himself as he bowed over the lady of the castle’s wrinkled hand.

  He’d always enjoyed Lady Elspeth’s company. She had a rare wit and, in spite of her advanced age, a sharp mind. He was saddened to find her health had deteriorated since their last meeting, only a month ago, but her spirits were high. She seemed frail and tired easily. After only a brief conversation, she kissed him a warm farewell and retired to her chamber.