“I ne’er skip and I daresay no’ a collection on earth would ever be worthy of ye.” Colum laced his fingers up through the knot of her braid, tilted her head back, and pulled her snug against his chest. He savored the warm, wet velvet of her mouth, hungrily taking ever more until he felt her heart hammering in sync with his own. When she’d grown suitably weak and clutched him for support, Colum raised his head and locked her in his gaze. “I shall prove to ye I dinna seek any further additions to any ‘collection’ ye seem t’think I possess. I will earn the gift of yer virginity.”
Kenna’s eyes narrowed as she squirmed free of his arms, then tapped a finger to the end of his nose. “We’ll see, Colum Garrison. We shall see.”
Then, before Colum could stop her, Kenna slipped through the screen of green and disappeared.
Chapter 11
“So, you went along with Granny’s idea of hooking me up with the clan gigolo? Do you have any idea how many women he’s been with?” Kenna resisted the urge to slam the heavy chamber door behind her. Little Chloe was nearly asleep in her mother’s arms.
Trulie pursed her lips and looked toward the ceiling as she tirelessly circled the room with a slow bouncing swing of the drowsy baby in her arms. “I’m not exactly sure of the number, but I’m pretty positive none of them ever had to pay him. From everything Coira told me, Colum handed it out freely—and was very good at every donation he made.”
“Oh, well that just makes it so much better.” Kenna flounced over to the hearth, hiked the back of her skirts up above her butt, and backed up to the flames. “Is it ever warm here? This is April, for cripes’ sake, and we still need a fire?”
Trulie grinned as she gently settled the sleeping babe down into the low wooden cradle beside the bed. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I very much doubt that.” Kenna huffed out a disgusted breath as she ran her hands up and down the backs of her chilly thighs. “What else did Coira say about Colum? I suppose she’s got insider information because she slept with him too?”
“Don’t be a bitch just because you’re in a foul mood.” Trulie eased down into a pile of cushions on the settee and pulled a wool wrap across her legs. “Colum never pursued Coira. I think he knew she was more or less off-limits because she’s my friend, as well as being my personal servant.” Trulie laced her fingers through the tartan threads fringed around the light blanket across her lap. “See? There is hope for the man. He has the beginnings of a conscience and a little bit of self-control.”
“Very damn little from everything I saw.” Kenna shook her skirts down into place and flopped into the chair beside the hearth. “All that proves is the man has a sense of survival. He’s not going to risk pissing off his chieftain’s wife.” She blinked against the unbidden memory of the explicit scenes of Colum’s past she’d witnessed during a glimpse into his mind. Dammit. The man’s memories were like a streaming Highland porn channel.
“Good point.” Trulie shifted sideways and yawned. “But Granny and I must’ve hit the nail on the head by picking Colum for you or you wouldn’t be so upset.”
“He tingled.”
“He what?”
“You know…tingled?” Kenna leaned forward, willing Trulie to understand. “Remember what it felt like the first time you made actual contact with Gray—skin to skin?”
“Ah.” Trulie’s face brightened, the recognition triggering a suggestive smile. “The tingle.”
“And besides”—Kenna shrugged and toyed with the loose beads strung along the narrow strips of leather woven into her belt—“he said he is willing to prove his change of heart. He said he would earn the right to my virginity.”
One of Trulie’s brows arched as she propped her head in her hand. “Sounds promising, but what are you going to do when he finds out you’re not a virgin?”
“What the hell do you mean by that? I am a virgin.” Indignation heated Kenna’s cheeks until she felt sure they had to be firehouse red.
Trulie held up a hand. “Now wait a minute. This is me you’re talking to—not Granny. What about Tommy McCandless, under the bleachers, after the Sadie Hawkins Day dance?”
“Nope.” Kenna shook her head and held her braid up in midair until it drooped and fell to one side. “Apparently, the alcohol he stole from his father’s liquor cabinet had a rather…uhm…relaxing effect.”
Trulie made a face. “Oh. Sorry. Poor Tommy.”
“Poor Tommy’s ass. I was the one left high, hot and needy.” Kenna glared at Trulie. Whose side was her sister on?
“Yeah, but you were only fourteen. You didn’t have any business…” Trulie paused, brow furrowing with intense concentration as she turned an ear toward the cradle and held up a hand for silence.
Kenna stretched taller in the seat, angling to check on the precious bundle tucked into the tiny wooden bed. No sign of tiny feet or little hands batting about the blankets. “She’s still asleep, and Karma and her owl are standing guard. If she wakes up, they’ll let us know.” Kenna relaxed back into the cushions, smiling over at the gigantic black dog sitting with his muzzle propped on the side of the cradle. And perched on the high arched end of the cradle at little Chloe’s feet was a watchful, tawny owl that had flown in the window on the day Chloe was born and guarded her ever since. None had been surprised. It was the tiny girl’s legacy. As the eldest daughter of a time runner and hence a time runner herself, Chloe had been blessed with an animal spirit guide, a guardian, a familiar. When the child learned to speak, she’d inform them of the owl’s name. Both Karma and Chloe’s owl were hopelessly besotted with her.
“Anyway, you’re right. I’m glad Tommy failed to…wave his flag.” Kenna ignored Trulie’s amused snort and continued. “He turned out to be a real jerk, and thanks to him and his attitude, I decided I would never make the mistake of sharing my body with anyone who didn’t really deserve me.”
Trulie agreed with a thumbs-up and a smile. “Good for you.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got misgivings now.” Trulie was the only one in the world who could possibly understand, since she too had been brought back to the past to find her perfect match. “What if Colum can’t wait? What if he won’t wait? I mean…” Kenna shrugged and lifted both hands in the air. “The man’s used to getting it on a regular basis. Is he going to be able to just quit cold turkey and do without for a little while?”
“Are you saying you want to give in and go ahead and sleep with him before he’s your husband?”
Kenna shook her head. “No. But I have to be sure he’s ready to give up wandering.” Kenna could hardly believe it herself, but a sense of certainty pounded through her with every beat of her heart. A single leap back in time and a heart-hammering tingle had sealed her fate. A mere couple of weeks ago, she hadn’t even been interested in dating. Now she felt sure she was ready to marry a man she’d just met.
She leaned forward, propped her elbows on her knees, and cradled her head in her hands. “At least, I don’t think I need to give in. I just don’t know. I’ve never…” Kenna paused and inhaled a deep breath. How the hell could she explain it? “I’ve never felt this way about a man before.” Kenna deflated with a confused huff. “He tingled.”
Trulie slowly rose, eased her way across the room, and took Kenna’s hands between hers. “If it turns out he can’t do without and prove to you he’s changed…then the man doesn’t deserve you whether he ‘tingled’ or not.”
“Why does Granny do this to us?”
“Because she once tingled too.”
—
“How did she know?”
“How did she know what?” Gray looked up from the layers of parchments scattered across his desk.
“How did she know about the other women?” Colum leaned across the desk and thumped his fist down into the middle of the papers. “Who had the time to tell her before she came down from her rooms? God’s beard, man. The woman was only out o’ my sight for a mere two days, and most o’ that time was spent bringin’ yer dau
ghter into the world and then sleepin’ off the weariness of her journey.”
Gray shoved Colum’s hand aside and thumbed through another stack of the yellowed papers. “I dinna ken. I was with Lady Trulie and the wee one.” Gray tossed aside his quill and looked up. “Besides, all here know how ye are wi’ the women. ’Tis common knowledge about the keep. At one time, Diarmuid and yerself had the guards takin’ bets on who would have all the maids first.”
“Aye?” Colum pushed off from the desk and wandered about the room. He turned back when he reached the window looking out over the garden. A mere few days ago, such news would ha’ made him quite proud. Now all he felt was shame. Lady Kenna’s scolding words played over and over in his mind. “Why in the world would you want to be friends with that asshole? And why in the hell would you ever behave just like him?”
Colum turned and faced Gray, struggling to understand the foreign emotions battling through him. He’d ne’er felt this sort of confusion before and he knew for certain he didna like it a whit. Still, though there was naught he could do to change the past, he could damn sure change his future. “I ne’er thought I’d live t’regret—and be so ashamed of—a wager.”
Gray leaned back in his high-backed chair with a wry grin. “From the current look of ye, I’d say the winner of that less-than-chivalrous bet was Diarmuid.” He rose from the desk and joined Colum at the window. For a brief instant, his eyes narrowed as he stared down into the gardens. “Ye asked how the Lady Kenna couldha discovered yer past. There is another way—a way that has nothing t’do with the tongue-waggin’ of servants.”
Colum fisted a hand beside the window. He shoved his knuckles hard against the cold gray stone of the sill as if grinding the problem into the wall. He ached to make things right. Lore a’mighty, he’d give anythin’ to erase the choices of his past. “Aye, I’ve a fair idea of what happened. A maid with a heart filled with bitterness spoke of me ways to the lady.” Colum pushed away from the wall and let his fist fall to his side. “I thought Coira was the only maid allowed to tend to the needs of the Sinclair women?”
“ ’Twas no’ Coira nor a disgruntled lover, I feel sure of it.” Gray turned away from the window, clasped his hands to the small of his back, and paced across the room. When he drew even with the pair of cushioned benches in front of the hearth, he turned and studied Colum.
Gray’s thoughtful expression chilled Colum to the verra bone. “What d’ye hint at, m’chieftain? I would ken yer thoughts. All of them.”
“Ye ken that the women of the Sinclair line possess unexplainable talents other than merely travelin’ across the web of time?” Gray waited for Colum’s nod, then continued. “Some would say they’re gifted in the ways. Blessed by the verra Fates themselves.” Gray’s shoulders rolled as he resettled his clasped hands behind his back. He walked in a slow circle around the edge of the lush, brown pelt stretched across the floor.
An unsettled feeling raked across Colum’s gut like the blade of a rusty sword. Were the Sinclair women witches too? He’d oft wondered that before. Colum swallowed hard in an effort to wet his mouth enough to speak.
“We dare not—under any circumstances—ever call our women witches.” Gray spoke with such intent, his meaning was crystal clear.
Colum understood completely. He’d ne’er personally witnessed the horrors committed in the name of purging what was deemed witchery, but from all he’d heard, he’d ne’er wish to see such acts firsthand. The Sinclair women had to be protected from such atrocities. “What exactly be Lady Kenna’s gift of which ye speak?”
Gray clapped a hand to Colum’s shoulder and squeezed. “The woman can walk through yer thoughts and see all ye have e’er seen, done, or known. According to m’wife, yer fine lady can even erase yer memories and replace them with her own commands if she so chooses.”
“Oh, holy hell.” The enormity of what Gray suggested staggered Colum backward. “Are ye certain? Pray tell me the Lady Trulie jests at this.”
Gray shrugged and pursed his lips. “I wish I could, man. Lady Trulie and Mother Sinclair also possess a bit of that same talent, but they both assured me Lady Kenna is by far more adept at reading a man and bending him to her will than they ever could be.”
Colum slowly lowered himself to a short stool. He buried his face in his hands and groaned. “I am doomed straight to hell.” He cringed at the memories the Lady Kenna must have viewed while traipsing through his mind.
Gray slapped him on the back and returned to his desk. As he picked up his quill and returned to scratching ink across parchment, he thoughtfully nodded, “Aye, man, we’ll both surely burn in the fires of our talented women’s judgment.”
Chapter 12
“Come on, little Miss Chloe.” Kenna shouldered her backpack against her side as she wrapped the squirming baby in a blanket and scooped her up to her chest. “We’re going to get some air in the garden while your mama gets a nap.”
“She’s fed and changed but…” Trulie’s words disappeared into a yawn. She wearily rubbed the corners of her eyes and eased down to the bed. “But if she needs anything, just bring her back and wake me up.”
Kenna patted the baby’s rump as she paused by the door and waited for Chloe’s owl to swoop out of the room ahead of them. “I’ve got everything I need in my backpack. You saw all the baby stuff I smuggled back to you from the future. Mr. Owl, Chloe, and I are going to be just fine.”
Trulie sank back into her pillows and closed her eyes with a smile. “You’re awesome, Sis, and you have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
From the looks of the dark circles under Trulie’s eyes, Kenna had a pretty good idea. She eased out of the room and closed the door with a soft click. “Your mama needs to realize it’s okay to let people help her.”
Chloe noisily sucked on her fingers and opened her deep blue eyes even wider.
“I agree completely.” Kenna followed the owl down the hallway and descended the tower steps. “It’s high time you saw the gardens and, if we’re lucky, maybe even a butterfly or two.”
Kenna shielded Chloe’s face with a corner of the blanket as they stepped out into the bright sunshine. It was a beautiful day. Perfect weather to get some air, enjoy her sweet little niece, and, hopefully, sort through the mess of confusion tangled up in her head.
Every time Kenna remembered the bits of thoughts and memories she’d snagged from her brief viewing of Colum’s mind, her muddled emotions yanked her in a thousand directions. Indignant jealousy burned through her. Hordes of women, all in various stages of undress and moaning with pleasure, writhed around the hallways of Colum’s memories. Then just as she’d seen enough to make her want to snap his neck, she’d come across a precious memory showing just how selfless and protective the infuriating man could be.
Colum was fearless. She’d seen where he’d saved Gray’s life on several occasions. And man-at-arms or not, the man had a soft side too. Kenna had felt his pain and watched how he’d bowed his head beside a fallen warrior’s body, then struggled to relay the man’s death to his widow. She blinked away the painful scene and took a deep breath. A knot of frustration tightened in the center of her chest. Mouthwatering tingle or not, Colum was…complicated—impossible to neatly label as Yes, he’s a keeper or No, he’s a jerk—get rid of him!
Kenna cuddled Chloe closer, pecking a light kiss against the downy velvet of the babe’s head. “How ’bout here, sweetie? The shade of this old tree looks like the perfect place to enjoy the garden.” She picked her way through the knobby root system splayed across the mossy ground like long arthritic fingers. Shrugging the backpack to the ground, she settled down on the low stone bench wedged into the deep “v” of the great oak’s trunk.
Chloe’s owl lit on the branch just above them, sidling up and down the gnarled limb as though inspecting and patrolling the area. The regal bird finally perched atop a knot, stretched its wings, then settled them in place with a shake.
“I think Mr. Owl approves,” K
enna said, rubbing her heels together until her doeskin shoes peeled off. She wiggled her toes against the soft, spongy carpet of moss surrounding the great tree. Thank goodness, she’d managed to talk Coira into leaving off her stockings. She hated those itchy things.
The cool velvet of the moss sent a soothing wave of contentment into her system. The ancient energy of the land, paired with the briny breeze playfully tugging on her curls, massaged the tension from her shoulders. A relieved sigh escaped her. Yes. This quiet time in the garden was exactly the therapy she needed.
Chloe wiggled a tiny hand free of the blanket and waved it about. She licked the tip of her tongue past her petal pink lips as though tasting the air. Her contented coo kept pace with the gentle soughing of the wind through the newly leafed out trees.
Kenna repositioned the baby in the crook of her arm and leaned back against the solid trunk of the mighty oak. “Okay, Chloe. Tell me what you really think about him. Is he evil or good? I trust your judgment completely when it comes to Mr. Muscle.”
“I can answer ye, lass. All men are both evil and good, for it takes the darkness inside a man to properly balance the light and make him whole.” Colum stepped out from behind the tree with eyes narrowed and corded arms folded across his chest. “And pray tell, who is this Mr. Muscle?”
Kenna jerked ramrod straight on the bench, immediately curling a protective arm in front of the baby. “Dammit, Colum. Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on a person and scare the living crap out of them?”
“ ’Tis no’ rude. ’Tis usually a matter of survival.” Colum slowly moved away from the massive width of the gnarled tree. “And I was here first.” The wind rippled the thin linen of his shirt across his shoulders and flapped his plaid against the muscular curve of his thighs.
Kenna wet her lips and swallowed hard. The off-white linen of Colum’s tunic made his wide expanse of hard-muscled chest and squared shoulders look as though the man had been dipped in white chocolate. Damn, I love white chocolate. Kenna licked her lips again. But she’d bet her favorite nail polish that a taste of Colum would beat any chocolate she’d ever eaten.
My Highland Bride (Highland Hearts #2) Page 8