Colin gave a brief nod. He was certain he would have to talk to her at some point, but he was not ready as of yet. He felt torn, and the intensity of his emotions angered him. He wanted to feel naught but numbness. He did not need this now. He needed to focus on bringing his father's murderer to justice.
As they left the library, Colin's stomach knotted. He was not looking forward to facing Kristina again so soon, and in a crowded social gathering where he would have to pretend all was well… unless she decided to take the meal in her guest chamber. Upon entering the great hall, he saw this was not the case. She was already seated at the high table beside Anna, three seats down from the laird's chair. He was both disappointed and relieved.
Her eyes met his as he approached, then she glanced away. Saints, he could not grow used to the fact that she could see him. Excitement quickened his heart rate.
After one of the elders said grace, the meal was served, but despite his stomach growling, he had little appetite. Nor could he stop himself from glancing down the table or over Anna's head to see if he could catch a glimpse of Kristina.
He, Neacal, Bryce and Cyrus discussed strategies for capturing the elusive Holme. When he found his attention straying, wondering what Kristina would say to him, he wanted to kick himself. He looked forward to talking to her, but at the same time he dreaded it.
***
Red Holme and Scroggie pushed their way into the crowded great hall of Rhodie Castle, among the arriving MacDonald and MacKenzie clansmen. He doubted any of them would recognize him. He'd made an early retreat from the battle they'd fought in at Bearach. Besides that, before he'd taken on the chimney sweep disguise, he'd shaved his red hair and bushy beard. Soot now covered most of his face, and a cowl covered his head.
He'd tried to keep out of sight when Colin and his closest guards had arrived back, but some of the male servants had been in a tizzy about the beautiful ladies arriving. He'd tried to see if Lady Kristina was among them, but the bailey had been so crowded he couldn't see who they were. But now he intended to find out.
The great hall was packed with several long tables to accommodate the many visitors and clansmen.
When the lady of the castle entered the great hall, all the men and servants stood. The next lady to enter was Anna, then Kristina.
Holme's breath halted as he watched her follow her sister toward the high table, unable to believe his good fortune. His heart raced with excitement and lust. He was glad she wasn't dead. Now, he would have another chance with her.
But something was different about her. No one was leading her. How was this possible? Could she see?
"Well, I'll be hanged," Scroggie whispered. "If 'tis nay the blind wench."
"Shh."
A dark-haired lady followed. Once they were all seated, everyone at the low tables sat on the benches and resumed their conversations. But Holme could not take his gaze off Kristina.
Damnation, but she could see! No one was helping her do anything. She picked up a goblet of wine and drank from it. No feeling around for it. Her actions were so different from the day he'd sat across from her while eating in that tavern.
When Colin Cameron and his friend entered, all the servants leapt to their feet again. Holme didn't. He merely glared through the crowd as the bastard claimed the laird's chair. All the servants resumed their seats. Why was Kristina not sitting beside Colin? Two people sat between them. Were they having a lovers' spat?
Because many days had passed since Holme had eaten a good meal, he stuffed himself with bread and venison during the meal and guzzled ale, all the while keeping an eye on Kristina.
She was even lovelier than he remembered. And he could not get over the fact she could see.
Kristina's presence here changed Holme's plans. He had to find a way to slip her out. But how? She would scream and create a great uproar.
When Holme had eaten and drank all he could hold, he murmured to Scroggie, "Let's go outside." Once they were in the near empty bailey, Holme whispered, "Our plans have changed."
"Are we nay going to burn the castle down now?" Scroggie asked.
"Of course we are. But first, I'm taking the lass out of here."
"How are you going to do that?"
"I haven't decided yet."
Holme couldn't help that his interest was still piqued by that witch. He wanted deep and profound revenge against the Camerons, but he also wanted Kristina under him. How could he get both?
Chapter Eighteen
Kristina paced in her guest chamber. She, Anna and Maili had left the high table so they could retire early and rest from their long journey. But Kristina could not relax. She'd refused to allow the maid to help her undress. First, she needed to speak to Colin. She'd only said a few words to him when they'd arrived, and none during supper because he sat so far away from her.
How could she get him away from the other men? They were no doubt still discussing battle strategies. With good reason, of course, but she needed a few minutes of his time to let him know the main reason she'd come here.
His manner toward her had been less than friendly. She could understand his anger and knew she deserved it, though surely he realized she hadn't meant to hurt him.
When she heard men's voices in the corridor, she hastened toward the door and silently opened it a crack. Though the corridor was dim and blurry from her vantage point, she could easily tell 'twas Neacal's and Colin's voices. Once Neacal disappeared into the room where Anna had gone to bed earlier, Kristina opened the door and stepped out.
"Colin." She tried to keep her voice low.
He halted and turned. She squinted, trying to see him better in the low light. His face was mostly in shadow, but the light from the candle sconce glinted off his square jaw. Looking at him quickened her blood just as touching him did. She had always been powerfully drawn to him, but seeing him now, she was even more attracted to him. She could not have even dreamed up a more perfect man for her—mind, body and spirit. But she had almost destroyed any chance she had with him.
"Aye?" he asked.
Dare she grab hold of courage and go after what she wanted, or should she flee back into her room and cower in the dark? She had never been one to cower, even when standing before a yawning abyss.
The fact that she could see him—in addition to his chilly demeanor—made him seem almost like a stranger to her. 'Tis Colin, she told herself.
"Could we talk?" she asked.
He hesitated, and she feared he would say nay. In that moment of silence, she felt something powerfully intense emanating from him, but couldn't put her finger on what it was.
"We can go into the solar." His voice was cool and detached, so unlike the Colin she'd known intimately only a fortnight ago. How she missed the warm and affectionate tone he'd used with her at Bearach.
She approached him and he motioned her forward, down the poorly lit corridor, then walked beside her.
Pausing, he opened a door and held it for her. She entered a dark-paneled and stone room lit only by a low-burning hearth fire. A large table and wooden chairs sat upon a woven rug. Two cushioned chairs sat near the fireplace.
She nervously smoothed her skirts. "I thank you for agreeing to talk to me."
"I'm hoping you will do most of the talking."
His words stung. What the devil did he mean by that? He no longer wished to talk to her at all? Was he even interested in her apology?
After he'd closed the door, he moved toward a small side table and poured a small glass of amber liquid. "Whisky?" he offered.
"Nay, I thank you." She clenched her hands, willing them to stop shaking. Somehow she had to get him to listen to her, but knew not what to say first.
He picked up another bottle, removed the cork and sniffed. "Mulled wine?"
Although her stomach was too knotted to want anything, mayhap a few sips of wine would help her relax. "A wee bit."
He poured the red wine into a crystal goblet, then handed it to her. Even though the
room was dim, when he drew near, she could easily see the anger and pain in his gaze. It sliced her to the core.
"Colin, I'm—" Her voice caught within her tight throat.
"Drink first," he urged in a slightly less acrid tone, then took a long swallow of his whisky. He turned away and added two pieces of wood to the fire.
She forced herself to take a sip of the wine, barely noticing the cinnamon and clove flavors. 'Twas delicious, but she was too upset to enjoy it. Her hands were so unsteady she feared she might drop the valuable crystal glass. She gulped another sip for courage, then placed the goblet on the large table.
He was still crouched at the hearth, jabbing at the wood and embers with a fire poker, causing the flames to burn brighter.
She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, forcing herself to plunge ahead before her courage fled. "Colin, I want to tell you how sorry I am for all that's happened."
"What do you mean?" His voice remained unfriendly. His question was only slightly less than a demand. Over his shoulder, he sent her a brief glance.
"First of all, the loss of your father is devastating, and I want you to know I'm here for you. Also…" She drew in another deep breath, her heart pounding. "I want to apologize for saying nay to your marriage proposal. 'Twas never my intention to hurt you, merely to spare you—"
"The burden?" he snapped, interrupting her and flinging a glare at her. "I ken it." He rose to his feet and stared into the fire as if he could no longer tolerate the sight of her.
Tears pricked her eyes. "I'm sorry I've hurt and angered you. I ken you will never forgive me—I don't deserve your forgiveness, in truth—but I wanted you to know that I regret everything. I wanted to see you, to apologize in person and let you know my vision has returned."
"And now that it has, all has changed, aye?"
She frowned, not knowing how to answer that surly question. Of course, everything had changed. She could now be an able and suitable wife for him—if his clan approved of her—but he did not seem inclined to want to hear the truth. Would it only provoke him further?
"Now you wish to accept my proposal of marriage?" he clarified, his incensed gaze pinning her to the spot.
Even though her feelings were crushed and fear consumed her, because he could easily reject her now, she drew on some inner strength and nodded. "Aye."
He blew out a breath and turned angrily aside. "God forbid, but what if you lose your sight again?"
She froze and closed her eyes, imagining the horror and disappointment of such a thing. She did not want to go back into that dark world.
"You would leave me," Colin rasped, and the raw pain in his voice shredded her soul. He turned away to pour another dram of whisky.
Would she do what he said? Nay, she couldn't. Now that she had experienced what it was like to live without him in her life—though it had only been a fortnight—she did not ever want to be without him again.
"Nay, I would never leave." She took two steps toward him, but forced herself to stop. She wanted to grab onto him and make him feel the love she held for him.
After downing the whisky, he set the glass on the side table and studied her with a critical eye. "How can you be so sure? What would be different from before?"
"Because I realize now… how much I love you."
"You said that before, while refusing to marry me. Love was not enough for you."
"'Twas not that."
"What then?"
His sharp words cut to the bone, and she felt again as if she were lost in the dark, for she could not see her way out of these entangled emotions. "I was daft before, back at Bearach, and I ken I deserve your hatred."
"I don't hate you, Kristina," he growled, sounding very much like he did.
She closed her eyes, and the tears she'd been holding back tumbled down her cheeks.
Without warning, he dragged her to him and kissed her. She gasped in shock as the passion exploded. Joy and arousal spread through her like wildfire in a dry forest, and she locked her arms around his neck. He would forgive her; he had to. She didn't want to exist without him, without his consuming kisses, without his possessive embrace.
Colin could not get enough of Kristina's delectable mouth. Damnation, how he'd missed her since he'd left Bearach. His heart hammered with excitement, for she fired up his soul as no other woman ever had.
"I could never hate you," he whispered against her lips. Nay, indeed, he loved her. Wanted her. Needed her. But when he thought about the possibility of her leaving him if her blindness returned… he would not be able to endure it. If she left him, she would take his heart and soul with her. If she had rejected him once so easily, regardless of the reason, she could do it again.
He pressed his forehead against hers. "I don't know if I can trust you."
She nodded. "I deserve that," she whispered. Her blue eyes—focused, aware, and filled with tears—cut into his soul. "But I want you to know, Colin… I love you and I always will." She turned and fled the room.
"Kristina," he said, but she was already gone. The tears streaming down her cheeks had gutted him. Did she truly love him, or was she only besotted in a very fleeting way? Why had love not been enough reason for her to marry him before, but now it was?
His heart ached with the love he felt for her. But if he believed her, if he trusted her, and she pulled the rug from beneath his feet again, he did not know how he could survive it.
Something deep inside his soul urged him to go after her, but an equally strong feeling froze his feet to the spot. He knew what it was—fear. He was not proud that he was afraid a woman would crush his spirit again.
He stepped out into the corridor, yearning to go to her door and knock. If he did, that would be the same as saying he wanted to marry her. Unable to do that as of yet, he halted.
'Twas true he craved her with every thread that wove through his soul, but he was pulled strongly in two directions. Bypassing her door, he headed toward his own room, the one he'd used since he was a lad.
As he neared the laird's chamber, it seemed as if someone was watching him. He halted and frowned, wondering if 'twas his da, paying him a visit in spirit. He shook his head at the daft thought, then continued on his way.
After entering his chamber and closing the door, he took a seat on the settle by the fireplace. He glanced at the bed, a desolate, lonely place. 'Twas doubtful he would get any sleep this night. Not after the conversation he'd had with Kristina… and the kiss.
Saints, how he wanted her.
He did forgive her. But he could not lose himself in her again, not now. Not until he was convinced she would never reject him again.
One thing was certain, the first task he had to complete was capturing Red Holme. 'Twas his responsibility, his duty, and the final thing he could do for his father. Naught could distract him from that.
***
Red Holme crept up the narrow back servants' stairs from the great hall, Scroggie following. He knew he would never have legal possession of this fine castle… but neither would the Camerons. Certainly not that whoreson Colin.
Holme had easily eliminated Maitland Cameron, and now 'twas time to eradicate the rest of them. An excited thrill racing through his veins, he smirked in the predawn darkness, then slipped along the keep's second floor, trying not to step on squeaky boards. He didn't want to alert them too early. Still, he carried a soot-covered canvas and some bags, while Scroggie carried a chimney brush. If discovered by a servant or one of the sleepless Camerons, they wanted to look as if they were going to work early.
'Twas about a quarter hour before daybreak. He knew some of the kitchen staff were already up, baking bread, but most of the Camerons were still sleeping in their beds, unawares. He smiled, imagining the Camerons trying to find an enemy who had vanished.
A door opened and softly closed farther along the dim corridor. Unable to identify anyone in the gloom, Holme halted, and he and Scroggie silently crept back to the alcove where he'd lurked last nigh
t, near the end of the corridor. From there, he had watched Kristina when she'd gone up after supper. That was how he knew which room she occupied. Now, quiet footsteps receded down the main stairs before he could see who it was. Obviously, the person was trying to be quiet and not wake everyone. Could have been a maid.
"Are you ready?" he whispered to Scroggie.
"Aye. Let's get her and be gone from here."
At Kristina's door, Holme tried the latch, but the door wouldn't budge. He muttered a curse under his breath. Quietly, he tapped his knuckle against the wood. Mayhap she would think 'twas her beloved Colin and open the door eagerly. He grinned, hardly able to wait to see her and touch her again.
"Who is it?"
Trying to recall what Colin sounded like, Holme disguised his voice, deepening it. "'Tis me."
A few moments later, the latch rattled, and Kristina inched the door open a crack. He didn't give her time to say a word. He barged into the candlelit room and clamped a hand over her mouth while Scroggie closed the door behind.
She tried to scream, but little sound emerged. Shoving at him with her inferior strength did little… until she kneed him the groin, sending a bolt of pain through his vitals. He almost dropped to his knees.
"Omph. Damn you, slut," he hissed quietly. "Help me with her," he whispered to Scroggie. They picked her up, restraining her legs, and deposited her on the bed.
She yelled beneath his hand and punched him in the cheekbone with her fist. A surprising amount of pain radiated from the spot. He grunted. The bitch! He'd had enough of this. When he flipped her facedown on the mattress, she slammed her elbows back against his belly, then attempted screaming again, but the sound was not loud enough.
He placed his mouth against her ear. "Be quiet or I'll kill your beloved Colin. I have him tied up in the byre."
She grew quiet and still.
"Now, that's better." Quickly, he pulled out the strips of tough canvas he'd already cut to length and tied a gag in her mouth. Next, he bound her wrists behind her back and tied her ankles, while Scroggie held her.
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