Bearing It All

by Vonnie Davis

  Colum gave Galen a friendly shove and widened his stride. Galen wasna the first man to accuse him of Viking ancestry. And what of it? Colum found no fault in bein’ compared to some o’ the most fearless warriors on land or sea. “So tell me, friend. Does our chief truly wish to see me or were ye merely savin’ me hide?”

  Galen’s bushy brows arched higher on his balding head, greatly resembling a pair of oversized wooly worms. “Oh no, lad. The MacKenna did summon yer arse.”

  “For?”

  “I dinna ken.” Galen shook his head and scratched a hairy shoulder before yanking the neck of his tunic back in place. “But I did hear him say ’twas really for Mother Sinclair—her and the Lady Trulie. What the hell have ye done now, and do ye even remember her name?”

  Colum stopped dead in his tracks. An uncomfortable sense of foreboding settled in his gut, then took to churning like a great serpent stirring the bowels of the sea. “Mother Sinclair, ye say?”

  “Aye.” Galen solemnly nodded.

  “And the Lady Trulie?”

  “Aye.” Galen pulled up short, easing back a step as they reached the arch leading to the stairwell up to the chieftain’s private rooms. The man eyed the narrow doorway as though it were the gateway to hell.

  “And ye’re certain ye’ve no idea of what it might be?” Colum glanced toward the winding stone steps leading up to the MacKenna’s solar and swallowed hard. With the Sinclair women plotting against him, he’d feel more at ease going to the gallows.

  Galen gripped Colum’s upper arm, then hurriedly motioned the sign of the cross over his chest. “I dinna ken. But I will say a prayer for ye and I’ll also make a sacrifice to the old gods as well. Here’s to the hopes that all the entities watch over ye. I feel ye’ll be a needin’ the lot o’ them.” Galen jerked his chin toward his chest, squeezed Colum’s arm one last time, then turned and barreled back down the hallway.

  Colum watched Galen disappear through the arch. A deep-seated sense of survival strongly advised him to follow the man. Nay. Colum shook free of the urge. He’d saved the MacKenna’s life several times; surely his chief would protect him from whate’er the women plotted.

  He traced his fingertips along the cold rough stones of the tower wall as he slowly climbed the winding stairs. Aye. The MacKenna will protect me. A delayed flash of pride surged through him. What the hell is wrong with me? Afraid of two women? Colum sucked in a deep breath and took the remaining steps two at a time. Nay. I’m no’ a coward. As soon as the words crossed his mind, he felt a bit sheepish. He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself of his own courage.

  Colum sensed the tension in the room as soon as he walked through the door of the chieftain’s private solar. He paused a moment, wiping his damp palms against the coarse wool of his plaid. Well, mayhap not tension—’twas more like the gut-tightening feel a man got the night before battle. There was damn sure somethin’ ill a stirrin’, and he didna care for the feel of it at all.

  Gray MacKenna, chieftain of Clan MacKenna and Colum’s best friend since they were both snot-nosed lads, lounged comfortably on one end of a pillowed bench with an unreadable look on his face that could only mean trouble. His wife, Lady Trulie, sat at his side, one hand slowly stroking her great rounded belly as though comforting the child within.

  “M’chieftain,” Colum greeted him, nodding as he studied Gray’s expression closer. He couldna pinpoint exactly what it was. What the hell was the man thinking? Verra strange. More oft than not he knew Gray’s thoughts before the man e’er spoke them; they’d fought side by side that long. But he had no idea what the man was thinking this time. Sucking in a deep breath, Colum turned and politely bowed to Lady Trulie. “M’lady.”

  Lady Trulie didn’t say a word, just lowered her chin in a polite nod and continued rubbing the wool-covered mound of her belly.

  Colum got the uncomfortable feeling he was being sized up for prey. He widened his stance, sent up a prayer for divine protection, and hoped like hell Galen was in fact making that promised sacrifice to the old gods.

  Gray blew air out noisily and shifted among the pillows. He still didna speak, just appeared to be struggling against some inner turmoil. Whate’er it was had to be serious. The man looked as though he was about to explode. What the devil had come o’er the chief? Had the clan been attacked? Was the king on the rampage again? If that was the case, why would the Sinclair women intervene? Had the Fates sent them one of their visions?

  Colum caught a subtle movement out of the corner of his eye. Senses on edge, he jerked and faced it. Nothing moved but the slight shifting of the MacKenna colors hanging beside the great stone fireplace. Lady Trulie’s huge beast of a dog, Karma, rolled to his side on the hide stretched before the hearth and groaned in his sleep. Colum swallowed hard. Damn them all. What the hell was afoot? He turned back and faced his chieftain.

  Lady Trulie resettled herself in the corner of the settee. The devilry flashing in her smile worried Colum more than anything else. Her thoughtful expression sent a chill through his bones. Lady Trulie was a great deal like her grandmother. She demanded a heavy dose of respect, and any who underestimated the woman quickly rued their stupidity. Her mischievous smile shifted to a look of intense concentration as she wriggled uncomfortably in the seat. Leaning forward as far as her rounded belly would allow, Lady Trulie shoved another colorful tapestry pillow down behind her lower back. “Lordy, I wish this baby would come soon. I feel like a bloated cow.”

  Colum bit the inside of his cheek. Lady Trulie had ne’er behaved like any other woman he had ever known. But he supposed that stood to reason, since she came from some strange place called Kentucky in the even stranger-sounding future.

  “Are ye no’ well, then, m’lady?” Colum ignored Gray’s barking laugh. And damned if his chieftain didna sit there and shake his head as if he couldna believe Colum had asked that question. What the hell was he supposed t’say to the woman? ’Twas obvious she was miserable. He was merely attempting to show proper respect to his chief’s wife. Damn ye to hell and back, Gray.

  “Yes.” Lady Trulie smiled as she swatted Gray’s arm with a disapproving smack. “I’m quite well, thank you.” She motioned toward a cushioned chair beside a low table containing a metal pitcher and several cups. “Please—pour yourself a drink and have a seat while we wait for Granny.”

  “While we wait for Mother Sinclair?” Every muscle tensed several notches tighter as though someone had just doused him with a bucket of water from the coldest part of the loch. Why the hell were they waiting for Mother Sinclair? Damn Galen and his faulty eavesdropping. When he’d heard Gray mention Mother Sinclair, why had the man no’ found out what in blue blazes was about to befall him?

  “Aye.” Gray grinned and slid out of swatting reach of his wife. “Mother Sinclair wishes to have a word with ye.”

  “I see.” Colum settled his stance and clasped his hands to the small of his back.

  Gray’s grin widened into a knowing smile and a wicked chuckle escaped him. “D’ye no’ wish to sit, man?”

  “Nay.” Colum rolled his shoulders. “I prefer to meet Mother Sinclair standin’.”

  Gray laughed out loud and rose from his seat. “I know ye need a drink before she arrives.”

  Colum verra much doubted there was enough whisky in all of Scotland to prepare a man to face Mother Sinclair. “Will the two of ye give no hint at all about what the woman wants with me?”

  “It’s nothing bad.” Lady Trulie fidgeted in the seat, arching her back at the same time that she pressed a hand to the bottom of her ribs and pushed against the subtly moving swell of her stomach. “I promise it’s nothing bad.”

  Colum verra much doubted the accuracy of her statement.

  The door creaked, then softly bumped closed behind him. Colum didna have to turn to know Mother Sinclair had entered the room. The hairs prickling up the back of his neck announced her presence like a blaring battle horn.

  The slight old woman hurried past
him. Her twisted staff with the odd crystal imbedded in the top tangle of roots lightly thumped out her every step. “I’m sorry to be late, everyone. I had a small situation to attend to in the hall.” Mother Sinclair shot Colum a disapproving look as she lowered herself onto a chair.

  Colum straightened his shoulders and stood taller. He’d be damned if he’d cower over something as normal as charming a pretty maid. Hell’s fire—he was a man. What the devil did the woman expect?

  “I have a very important task for you, Colum Garrison.” Granny straightened her tiny frame in the high-backed chair like a Fae queen holding court. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him over the tops of her wire-rimmed spectacles. “But you will have to change your ways.”

  “Aye?” Colum shifted in place but kept his hands clenched to the small of his back. Damned if he didna feel like a prisoner waitin’ for the king’s choice of gallows or the axe. “And what ways might those be?”

  “I believe you know exactly what ways I’m referring to.” Mother Sinclair took a deep breath and glanced over to Lady Trulie. “You still agree, even considering the man’s past behavior?”

  What the hell did she mean by that? Colum stole a glance at Gray, but his fine Highland chieftain refused to look him in the eye. Verra well. He’d battled alone before and won. Aye. But ne’er against Mother Sinclair. Colum sucked in a deep breath and stuck out his chest.

  “I think he’ll be just fine, Granny.” Lady Trulie beamed at Colum as though he were a prized horse being selected for breeding with a favored mare. “Besides, you said you received the same vision I did.”

  Oh holy hell. Colum stiffened. Both Lady Trulie and Mother Sinclair had seen him in another of their damn visions? The last time he’d appeared in one of their visions, they’d seen him poisoned and left for dead.

  “Very well.” Mother Sinclair’s mouth tightened into a flat, determined line. “In one week’s time, another of my granddaughters”—she motioned toward Lady Trulie—“Trulie’s middle sister closest to her in age, will arrive.”

  Colum waited, all the while wondering from where or maybe from when the next Sinclair sister would come. He’d speak to Gray later about the disloyalty of the man toward him. Hell’s fire. He’d fought at the man’s side for years. Did that no’ account for anything? ’Twas damn shameful the way his own chieftain had allowed a pair of women to reign over him in such a way. If all they needed were additional guards to protect such an important visitor, why the blazes had Gray no’ given the order himself? “I’ll see to it additional guards are set in place. Have no fear for the lady’s safety. I shall personally see to it.”

  “That’s exactly what we want,” Granny said as her tight-lipped frown softened into a sly smile. “We want you to personally see to Kenna.”

  Gray leaned over the fur-covered arm of the settee and scrubbed one hand across his mouth. His gaze was locked on the floor, and his shoulders trembled as he coughed a strange snorting sound into the folds of the plaid draped across his chest.

  Was the MacKenna laughing? Colum took a step closer and glared at him. “M’chieftain?”

  Gray straightened and let his hand drop to his lap. He sucked in a deep breath, then cleared his throat. “Aye, Colum. See to it the guards are doubled about the keep. But I do charge ye personally with the seeing after of Lady Kenna at all times. As soon as she arrives, she is yer responsibility. See that ye stay at her side.”

  Stay at her side. Colum smelled a verra large rat. What the devil did these three play at? “Is there anything more I should know about the Lady Kenna?”

  “Nay. Not a thing.”

  Colum studied Gray. The man’s face grew ruddier by the minute. Instinct warned Colum, “Run like hell, man!” Colum cleared his throat and edged closer to the door.

  Granny strolled behind the couch and set a staying hand on Gray’s shoulder as he leaned forward to speak again. “I’m sure you’ll figure it all out when the time arrives. But know this…” Granny pointed the crystal end of her staff at the center of Colum’s chest. “Trulie and I chose you for a reason. You would be wise not to disappoint us.”

  Disappoint them? When had he e’er failed to protect a charge? When had he e’er failed his chieftain? “I swear to ye, I will keep the Lady Kenna safe.”

  Again, Gray scrubbed a shaking hand across his mouth and muttered something toward his lap. Colum peered closer. Wariness set off more inner alarms as he picked up on the unspoken byplay going on between Lady Trulie’s pointed glare and his chieftain’s apologetic shrug.

  Colum swallowed hard and eased closer to the door. Had Gray just said it wasn’t the Lady Kenna’s safety that concerned him? Colum studied Gray closer. Aye and fer sure, the man had said just that—he felt certain of it. Lor’ a’mighty, may the gods have mercy on my soul.

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