Colum rose from the bench, ambled his way around the perimeter of the room, and slid into his usual place as man-at-arms just to the back of the chieftain’s table. The tapestry of the MacKenna clan crest to the right of the hearth slowly wafted against his shoulder, as though supporting him in defending his woman. He rested his hand atop the pommel of his sword and widened his stance. Much better. From this position just behind Gray’s chair, he could see and hear it all…and pick up on any and all nuances. He caught Kenna’s attention, puffed out his chest, and smiled. Surely, from this perfect vantage point, he could manage any situation that might arise. A deadly calm settled through him—until Kenna rolled her eyes, then shifted her attention back to Gray and Sutherland.
Kenna moved forward, her face blossoming into an expression of delight as she smiled up at the visiting chieftain. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Chieftain Sutherland. I look forward to hearing more about your part of Scotland and Ireland.”
“Please, m’lady.” Ronan swiftly moved around the table until he stood directly in front of Kenna and held out his hand. “Please feel at ease to call me Ronan.”
Blood roared in Colum’s ears as Kenna’s smile widened and her hand slid into Sutherland’s extended palm. A red haze distorted Colum’s vision as the wily chieftain bent and lightly brushed a kiss across the top of Kenna’s pale fingers.
“And so I shall,” Kenna cooed as Sutherland released her hand and she daintily pressed it to the braided belt accentuating the curve of her fine hips and narrow waist. She lowered her gaze and peeked up at him with a teasing flutter of her long dark lashes.
Who the hell was this woman? Colum bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Since when did Kenna act as breathy and flirtatious as a serving wench looking for a quick tumble?
A warning glance from Gray pushed Colum back in place beside the tapestry. He clenched his sword until his hand ached. Lore, what he wouldna give to cleave Sutherland’s silver head from his damn shoulders and set it on a pike in the center of the bailey.
“Perhaps the lady will see fit to join me in the garden for a breath of air after we enjoy this evening’s meal? ’Twould give us an opportunity to get to know one another better.” Sutherland had moved to Kenna’s side and offered his arm as soon as Gray had taken his seat.
Colum’s fist tightened on the pommel of his sword. Just as he suspected, not only did Sutherland walk the Lady Kenna to her seat, but the bastard plopped his arse down in the chair beside her. Serving maids hurried to gather up the visiting chieftain’s plate and glass and relocate them to his new position.
“Ahem!” Mother Sinclair thumped the heel of her knife hard atop the table and sat taller in her chair. “The only way the Lady Kenna walks in the garden with you is if I go too.” Mother Sinclair’s high-pitched voice increased in volume and rang out across the hall. “The Lady Kenna goes nowhere without a suitable chaperone.”
A tittering of laughter rippled through the crowd. All knew no man could best Mother Sinclair.
Colum relaxed a bit. Perhaps he wouldna be forced to kill Sutherland after all. If the man crossed Mother Sinclair, the feisty old woman wouldna leave enough of Sutherland to pray over.
Sutherland turned and nodded to the tiny old woman sitting at the other end of the long table. “ ’Twould be an honor to escort two such lovely ladies through the gardens.”
“Hmpf.” Granny snorted and made a face as though she’d just tasted something vile. “Don’t try to charm me with pretty words. I’ve heard them all.”
Tamhas, looking a bit tattered about the edges with his overlong hair and grizzled beard, leaned in close and whispered in Granny’s ear. He rumbled out a soft chuckle as he slid an arthritic hand atop her narrow, blue-veined fingers resting beside her tankard.
Mother Sinclair’s face softened into a smile as she covered Tamhas’s hand with hers. Then her smile shifted back into a stern mask as she sat up straighter and cleared her throat again. “Whatever Kenna wishes.”
Sutherland smiled as he turned back to Kenna, lifted her hand from the table, and brushed it with an overly long kiss. “What say ye, m’lady?”
Colum ground his teeth as Kenna smiled up into Sutherland’s eyes. Indignant rage surged through him as Kenna beamed even brighter beneath Sutherland’s gaze and coyly tilted her head. “I think an evening stroll through the gardens would be lovely.”
Colum could take n’more. He strode forward as he spoke. “My chieftain—”
All heads turned toward him. A warning look settled across Gray’s face as he waited for Colum to speak.
“I would…” Colum’s voice trailed off as Gray lowered his chin the barest bit, just enough that Colum saw it.
“Ye would make the toast?” Gray supplied, speaking the words in slow, tensed hitches. His voice echoed with easily understood intent.
Colum’s temper abated the slightest bit. Gray was right: now was nary the time for a confrontation or challenge. Sutherland had acted the perfect, polite guest—so far. As much as Colum wanted to slit the old chieftain’s throat, ’twould be less than honorable to treat the powerful man in such a way. Not only would it cast Clan MacKenna in an unsavory light, but killing Sutherland would more than likely infuriate the living hell out of Kenna. The woman abhorred bloodshed. He could already hear her exasperated rant. “You wouldn’t claim me as your own until you got so jealous your temper killed an innocent man? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Colum sucked in a deep breath, tamped down the temper passed on from his warring ancestry, and nodded. “Aye.” He pulled a full tankard from the wooden tray balanced on the serving girl’s shoulder. He raised the mug high in the air and roared the MacKenna cry. “Aut agere aut mori.”
Either action or death.
Chapter 18
Colum edged back another step deeper into the shadows. As the shining orb of the moon climbed higher, the darkness surrounding the scattered clusters of shrubs and trees in the private garden slowly disappeared. He backed tighter against the stone wall guarding the circumference of the grounds. Where the hell were they? Kenna had agreed to walk with Sutherland in the gardens. He had distinctly heard her say it, even though his rage had nearly blinded him to everything but the vision of Sutherland’s neck twisting between his hands.
Dried leaves skittered across the ground in the gentle breeze. Somewhere nearby a brittle twig snapped beneath a foot. Colum held his breath and listened closer. The soft murmur of voices floated to him through the cool night air. That had to be them, although for the life of him, Colum couldna pick out Sutherland’s voice. He had no need to see the man in order to identify him. Sutherland’s voice was deeper than most and had an oddly lyrical cadence.
The speakers currently walking through the garden sounded more like a couple of women. Colum leaned toward the sound and concentrated. Aye. Women. Kenna and Mother Sinclair.
“Why don’t you go back upstairs. This cool damp air can’t be easy on your bones. And your limping is worse. Is your hip bothering you again?” Kenna’s face seemed to glow as she quietly fretted about the older woman. Her fair skin shimmered pale and unhappy beneath the eerie light of the moon. The hood of her cloak slipped back to her shoulders as she kicked a stone out of her grandmother’s path. She moved slowly beside Mother Sinclair’s bent form, one arm supporting the slight woman’s extended arm.
“I am fine.” Mother Sinclair slowly straightened and squared her narrow shoulders. Her arthritic knuckles glistened white as she clutched the staff in her knobby fist, carefully setting it with each step. She shook a bent finger through the air as she spoke, keeping perfect time with her words. “A walk before bedtime is good for the soul. It prepares the body to travel the world of dreams. And besides…you’ve no business walking in the garden alone after telling Sutherland you were too tired to walk with him.”
A black form flitted out from the darkest shadows and darted toward the women. Colum tensed, then relaxed back against the cold stone wall. �
�Twas nay some dangerous animal. ’Twas only the wicked feline, Kismet. The irritating cat must ha’ been enjoying a night of hunting among the herbs and flowers. ’Twas about time the wee troublemaker did something other than stir mischief.
“There’s my Kismet.” Mother Sinclair chuckled as she bent and trailed a hand across the cat’s sleek back. “Have you been enjoying the moonlight too, old friend?”
The cat responded with a ringing twrrppp as she wove back and forth under the elderly woman’s hand. The golden-eyed feline glanced toward the shadows where Colum hid, flattened her ears against her head, and hissed.
Colum held his breath as Mother Sinclair looked where Kismet directed, squinting over the tops of her glasses. He tensed as the matriarch’s sweeping gaze reached him and paused for a brief second before moving on.
“I don’t see anything. Is your sight becoming as bad as mine, old friend?” Mother Sinclair rubbed the cat one last time, then straightened with the help of the staff. She peered up at the sky before turning back to Kenna. “Are you ready to go back, gal, or do you need more fresh air? It’s gettin’ close to bedtime.”
Kenna pulled the hood of her cloak up from her shoulders and settled it over her head. She glared up at the moon, scowling at the blue-white orb. “You’re right, Granny. It is getting late. Might as well call this day a wash.”
Colum released the breath he’d been holding. Good. ’Twas best the women returned to the keep and the safety of their chambers. Colum measured the moon’s climb in the sky. ’Twas late, but not so late that a fightin’ man wouldna still be about the business of enjoyin’ a wee drink. Perhaps he’d mix with Sutherland’s men and see if a few swallows of fine MacKenna whisky would loosen their tongues about their master.
Mother Sinclair and Kenna paused not too far from the shadows where Colum hid. Kenna gently rubbed a hand across her grandmother’s bent shoulders as she glanced back at the keep. “But on the other hand, why don’t you go ahead and go back. I’d like to stay out here just a bit longer if you don’t mind. Maybe the moonlight will soothe my soul and brighten my current outlook on life.” She motioned across the muted nightscape of the silent garden. “As you can see, there are no evil males lurking about waiting to relieve me of my virtue.” A sad smile tensed Kenna’s face as she folded her hands at her waist. “I think I’ll be safe without you. Don’t worry. I’ll be up in a bit.”
Leaning heavily on her staff, Granny straightened and took one last glance around the garden. “I wish Karma had come with us. I’d feel better about leaving you out here alone if that big black beast were guarding you.”
Kenna laughed. “Now you know ‘that big black beast’ is completely besotted with tiny Chloe. He’s not going to leave her side unless he’s forced—not even for a romp in the garden.”
Colum shifted his weight and rubbed a shoulder against the knobby grain of the stone wall. Hie back to the keep with yer grandmother, love. He was anxious to join their visitors. This trip to the garden had been a waste of precious time. The remainder of the night could still be fruitful, mingling among Sutherland’s men to learn more about their strange master and what the man might be plotting.
Colum eased toward the outer gate, stretching to see across the grounds to the stables. Golden torchlight flickered from between the cracks of the loosely shuttered windows. Aye. Their visitors still stirred. They were more than likely checking their mounts before retiring for the evening. There was still time to put a skin of whisky to good use, a wee dram or three shared with the travel-weary men. Colum nodded again, a sense of certainty settling in his gut. Aye. Their tongues would be loosened in no time.
Colum glanced back into the garden just as Granny and the cat disappeared through the archway leading into the keep. He quickly scanned the rest of the moonlit grounds, his gaze settling on Kenna. Dammit t’hell. There she was. Why had she no’ gone inside with her grandmother?
Kenna sat on the low stone bench beside the reflecting pool. She stared down at the shimmering surface of the water, sadly engrossed in trailing a crooked stick through the sparkling ripples.
Dammit straight t’hell and back. Colum raked a hand through his tangled hair. A sense of helpless frustration tightened like a band around his chest. His love looked so sad—so all alone—staring down at the reflections dancing atop the water.
Guilt punched him in the gut. Forget about Sutherland’s men. The forlorn look on Kenna’s face broke Colum’s heart. His behavior had put that sad curve on her soft, sweet mouth. Surely, she knew how much he loved her? Surely, she had to know they would be together soon? He must go to her. He had to make this right.
“Why, Lady Kenna, I understood ye to say ye were too weary for a bit of air in the garden?” Regal and dark, Chieftain Ronan Sutherland stepped out from behind a freestanding stone arch covered with a tangled veil of dark green ivy. His silver hair glinted like precious metal in the glow of the swollen moon.
Kenna jerked, dropping her twig into the pool. A pale, trembling hand flew to her throat. “Dammit! You startled the bejeebers out of me.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as soon as the words cleared her mouth.
Colum sank back into the shelter of the shadows. He sidled around a row of evergreen shrubbery, drawing as close as he could without risking discovery. Without a sound, he slid his dagger from its sheath and readied it against his side. Sutherland’s behavior would decide whether he allowed the man to live to see the sunrise. Colum held his breath as he strained to peer through the sparse evergreen foliage and read Sutherland’s expression.
A deep chuckle rumbled free of Sutherland’s dark form. The shiny black linen across his shoulders rippled in the moonlight as his body shook with mirth. “Ye have quite a way with words, Lady Kenna. It pleases me to learn the rumors are true.” He slowly eased closer, like a great black cat stalking its prey.
Kenna rose from the bench and nervously adjusted her cloak about her shoulders. She sidled backward with an uneasy hitching step and put more distance between them. “What rumors? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Rumors of how the Sinclair women are like no other in Scotland.” Sutherland held out his hand and bowed slightly. “Forgive me for catchin’ ye unawares. Ye have m’word, I mean ye no ill will.”
“No ill will my arse,” Colum grumbled under his breath. He’d lay odds the bastard was up to no good. He felt it in his bones.
Clouds skittering across the moon danced thin shadows over the ground. Colum glared up at the shining orb. Now was nay the time for the moonlight to grow fickle. He needed to see everything. Movements spoke louder than words and often held their own subtle warnings.
Kenna’s shoulders rose and fell as though she struggled to shake free an unseen weight. She remained silent, staring down at Sutherland’s outstretched hand. Her mouth trembled into a determined line and her delicate form moved with what appeared to be a deep intake of breath. Whatever struggle went on in Kenna’s mind must’ve finally ended. A calm look settled across her face as she slid her hand into Sutherland’s palm. “You have my forgiveness—this time.”
Colum bit back a growl as Kenna fell in step beside the man and he curled her arm up into his. What the hell did Sutherland think he was doing? How dare he take Kenna’s arm as though they were already matched and headed toward the altar?
As Kenna and Sutherland meandered closer, Colum squeezed the worn leather haft of his biodag tighter. Something was about to happen—he sensed it in his gut—and he and his dagger would be ready. The verra air crackled with anticipation. A shiver raked across him as every hair dusting his arms stood on end. A burning tingle flashed across his flesh.
Colum crouched low behind a hedge. He had to get closer. He had to follow as close as possible once Kenna and Sutherland passed by. Something ill was afoot and he’d be damned if he allowed it.
A sharp pain exploded at the base of his skull. Nauseating darkness, fractured with bursts of light, closed in around him. A muffled screa
m echoed nearby, then everything went black.
Chapter 19
Kenna screamed against the calloused hand clamped across her mouth. Ronan’s arm tightened like a steel band around her waist, locking her back against his hard chest.
“Quiet now, lass. I nay wish for any harm t’befall ye. ’Tis foolish t’struggle so.” Ronan’s deep voice took on the patient tone of a master quieting his pet. “Ye must calm yourself now. ’Twill no’ be such a chore if ye settle yer mind on that which canna be changed. Quiet yerself and accept yer fate.”
“Canna be changed” my ass! I’ll make you think “canna be changed.” Wait ’til I get through with your mind. Kenna forced herself to relax back against Ronan’s broad chest. She smoothed her palms up into the loose sleeves of his léine and spread her fingers across the corded muscles of the arms locked against her struggles. Clear your mind. She forced her eyes closed and imagined Granny’s gentle voice guiding her through the ordeal. You can do this, gal. Breathing came easier as her heart rate slowed.
Her hands warmed as she focused her energy into her palms. The subtle rattling of a wagon sounded from the direction of the stables. The muffled clip-clop of horses’ hooves against hard earth grew louder, charging another burst of adrenaline through every nerve ending.
Concentrate, Kenna. Emotions only create chaos. It had been a long while since she had erased an entire mind. Life had been pretty calm since she’d arrived in Scotland. Other than Chloe’s birth and falling in love with Colum, life had pretty much been bobbing along at an even keel in the thirteenth century.
My Highland Bride (Highland Hearts #2) Page 13