My Highland Bride (Highland Hearts #2)

by Maeve Greyson

  Her heartbeat pulsed into her fingertips. The energy hummed a slow steady rhythm as her concentration deepened. One more deep breath and then it’s playtime. Kenna inhaled, then powered forward.

  All senses focused. Every sound, every sensation in the garden fell away to a whirling tunnel of darkness lit by glowing bursts of multicolored explosions. The mind tunnel always made Kenna think of a black hallway someone had colored by bursting water balloons filled with sparkling paint. Kenna dove forward, following the iridescent trail toward a shining beacon at the end of the tunnel.

  In the span of time it takes to form a thought, she reached a shimmering wall of white light at the end of the tunnel. There it was—the portal to Ronan’s mind. Time to clean house. Kenna rubbed her fingers together, then flattened her hands across the satiny surface of the gently undulating wall. Granny’s voice still guided her. One more deep breath, gal, then push. You can do this.

  The wall resisted, caved inward, then slowly pushed back. What the crap? That had never happened before. Sometimes she failed at pulling memories away, but even Colum’s mind had never refused her entry. Kenna rubbed her fingertips together faster, amping up the energy. It had to be her anger that was fouling up the flow of her power. Keeping all emotions under control was the first lesson Granny always taught.

  Inhale. Hold it. Release. Concentrate. Kenna flattened her hands against the wall and shoved harder. The wall’s opposing push was less gentle this time and was accompanied with a stinging zap as painful as an electrical jolt. Kenna jumped back and fanned her hands against the burning sensation.

  Well, dammit. What a load of bullshit. Kenna knotted her fists, locked her elbows, and plowed full force into the glowing membrane. Sting or no sting, she was getting into Ronan’s mind.

  Her mind exploded with blinding white sparks. Her arms burned and throbbed with a bone-cracking burst that stung all the way to her shoulders. Kenna popped open her eyes to the moonlit hillside just behind the back wall of the MacKenna gardens.

  “Now ye know ye canna breach m’mind. I was told it would be so—that ye would try. I know about yer gifts from the Fates, and I believe ye’ll find that none o’ yer wiles will work upon me, for I possess a few wiles of me own.” Ronan’s deep chuckle rumbled against her back as he adjusted his hold around her waist. “As soon as the men bring the wagon ’round, we shall be on our way to yer new home. The journey is quite long. But rest assured, ’twill give us ample time to get t’know one another properly.”

  Like hell. If I can’t erase your mind, I can at least relieve you of your pompous attitude. Kenna leaned back and bit down hard on Ronan’s fingers. At the same time, she planted the heel of her boot hard into his instep.

  Ronan grunted, shifted to one side, then swore something under his breath. Kenna wasn’t positive, but she was pretty sure he’d just used a very bad Gaelic curse word. Good. Now for the rest of the story. She squirmed lower and aimed an elbow for the man’s groin. There were disadvantages to being a tall man kidnapping a much smaller woman, and it was her pleasure to introduce Ronan to this particular one. For once, Kenna thanked her ancestors for bequeathing her a very diminutive five-foot frame.

  Ronan’s amusement rumbled against her back, infuriating Kenna even more.

  You think this is funny? A muffled roar ripped from her throat as she jabbed both elbows hard and fast and kicked like a wild mule.

  “Yer a vicious wee beastie, I’ll gi’ ye that.” Ronan sidestepped just in time to save his manhood, while keeping his hand firmly clapped over her mouth. “If ye keep fightin’ me, yer goin’ to find yerself trussed up like an animal ready for the spit and I dinna ken ye’ll fancy that one whit.”

  The taste of blood filled Kenna’s mouth, whether hers or Ronan’s she couldn’t tell; nor did she particularly care. One way or another, she was going to get free, and then there’d really be hell to pay. The crunch of wagon wheels against dry earth sounded from around the corner of the garden wall, ratcheting her heartbeat to an even faster pound. She had to figure something out, and she had to do it fast.

  Where the devil were Gray’s men? Where the hell was Colum? The MacKenna clan bragged theirs was the most impenetrable keep in all the Highlands. Kenna blinked against the sting of panicky tears. Sutherland’s men were stealing her right out from under everyone’s nose. This could not be happening.

  Kenna swallowed hard as the rattling wheels of the wagon rolled to a stop in front of her. It didn’t make her feel any better that Sutherland’s men were all dressed in the same dark somber tones of their chief. The wagon had to belong to Sutherland too, because the boards forming the three sides of the bed had been stained the same dreary black shade. The wood of the wheels was blackened with pitch. The horses were black. Even the leather of the saddles and sheaths had been stained black. Lord, help me. Sutherland’s group looked like a welcoming party straight from the darkest depths of some icy black hell.

  As Ronan hoisted her up in the air toward the open end of the wagon, Kenna first went limp, then kicked, rolled, and squirmed so hard she finally broke free of his hold. She hit the hard-packed earth with a bone-shaking thud. A sharp pain shot through her right shoulder. Dammit. She rolled while still gasping for breath. No time for pain right now.

  Kenna scurried up under the wagon. Panic pounded through her as she kicked her feet free of Ronan’s grappling hands.

  “ ’Tis no use runnin’. Ye will only do yerself harm. Come back here, woman!”

  Kenna took some small satisfaction at Ronan’s increasingly strained tone. He no longer sounded like the slightly amused man of earlier. Ronan sounded pissed. Good. That knowledge spurred her on. Kenna kicked against another grabbing pair of hands and pulled herself farther up underneath the wagon.

  “Colum!” she screamed as loud as she could bellow while belly-crawling across the rough, rocky ground. “Colum! Get your ass out here!”

  Kenna squirmed sideways and pulled free the slender dagger Colum always insisted she wear strapped to her calf. Colum. Where in blue blazes was he? As Sutherland’s men surrounded the wagon and snatched at her from both sides, she slashed blindly through the darkness.

  “The wench has a blade.” One of the men hissed out a whispered stream of profanity seasoned with a strained growl.

  “Dinna harm her,” Ronan ordered.

  “Harm her? The she-wolf nearly relieved me of m’fingers.”

  “And I will relieve ye of yer head if any one of ye causes her harm.”

  Kenna recognized the dark luster of Ronan’s polished boots as he circled about the wagon. “Let me out of here and I’ll make sure Gray allows you and your men to leave peacefully. I won’t let him hang any of you.” Well…maybe she’d get Gray to let them go. She’d at least think about it if they agreed to leave her alone.

  Kenna stabbed at another gloved hand as it latched onto her cloak. She clawed free the ties at her throat and tossed the garment back as one of the men yanked it sideways. She didn’t care if they stripped her naked. She wasn’t coming out from under this wagon.

  “The drugged wine will soon wear off.” A deeper voice to the other side of the wagon circled around, speaking in a loud whisper. “The one in the garden willna stir for quite the while, but the others will rise verra soon. We’ll soon be discovered, and then there’ll be hell t’pay. We best be gettin’ this done and be on our way.”

  “Pull the wagon forward,” Ronan ordered. “With care,” he added as he lunged up under the back of the wagon and latched onto both of Kenna’s ankles.

  Kenna kicked and squirmed but the wheels rolled so close on either side of her, she couldn’t curl around and slash her knife toward the man at her feet. She dug the fingers of one hand into the tangled clumps of grass and prepared to start stabbing as soon as the wagon rolled away.

  “Nay, m’lady.” One of Ronan’s men darted forward and grabbed her wrist with a gloved hand. He twisted the knife out of her fingers and tossed it to Ronan.

  “Tie
her feet and hands,” Ronan ordered with a sad shake of his head. Turning slowly, he glanced up at the sky. “Storm clouds will bring us rain soon. Our muddied tracks will betray us and lead them to our fine lady. Hurry, men. ’Tis time to bid MacKenna keep farewell.”

  “Colum!” Kenna screamed again, bucking and kicking against the men at her hands and feet. Dammit. She didn’t care if the entire clan was drugged into a stupor. She’d scream loud enough to wake the dead. Ronan pulled a square of shimmering black cloth from one sleeve and knelt beside her head. “Forgive me. But with the coming storm and the awakening of the drugged men, I must quiet yer calls. As soon as we are well into the mountains, the gag will be removed.”

  “You know they’re going to come and get me. You won’t get away with this. They’re not going to go belly up and just let you have me without a fight.” Nauseating panic churned through Kenna as Ronan rolled the bit of silk into a gag and leaned toward her.

  “I know. ’Tis always the way until the woman I’ve chosen discovers bein’ wed to me is no’ such a bad thing.” Ronan slid the cloth between her teeth. Nodding to the man on the other side of her to lift Kenna’s head, Ronan pulled the gag snug and tied it.

  As Ronan lowered her head, he gently brushed a thumb across one of Kenna’s cheeks and smiled down at her. “Yer a fine woman. Lovely and strong. I am certain I have the right of it this time.” He bent and kissed her forehead with a feather-light touch, then straightened and nodded to his men. “Place Lady Sutherland in the wagon, lads, and be quick about it. Our time grows short—soon MacKenna keep will discover what has been done.”

  “Lady Sutherland”? Like hell! Kenna closed her eyes against burning tears as the men hoisted her up. She bit back a sob and sank her teeth into the silk gag as they gently lowered her into a plush nest of pillows and blankets.

  As the wagon shuddered, then lurched forward, Kenna curled sideways and buried her face in her arms. By God I’ll think of something. You bastards are gonna wish you’d never laid eyes on me. She sank her teeth harder into the gag, fighting against rising panic. Colum had to be all right. He was just drugged. She squeezed her eyes tighter shut. Colum wasn’t hurt…or worse. He was just drugged.

  She wouldn’t allow any other option to rear its ugly head.

  Chapter 20

  Strong hands dug into his shoulders. I’ll kill the bastard. Without bothering to open his eyes, Colum pushed up from the ground and spun, swinging both fists toward whoever risked touching him when he was down. Must get ta Kenna.

  “Whoa, lad.” Gray leapt back, both hands raised in the air. “What the hell happened? Yer covered in blood.” Gray paused, grimacing as he pressed his knuckles against his temples. “Every able-bodied man of the keep is retchin’ and me own head is poundin’ like a fiend. What evil took place last night?”

  The brightness of the sunlight shot excruciating barbs of pain through Colum’s throbbing skull. He clamped his eyes shut and staggered to one side. One hand out, he batted blindly until his fingers raked across cool, rough stone. “Dammit straight t’hell and back. I’ll kill that son of a whore when I get me hands on him.”

  He cradled his aching head in one hand as he braced his body against the solid wall of stone. Cold sweat peppered his forehead and his gut churned a sickly gurgle. Nausea sent a warning burn of bile up the back of his throat as he risked opening his eyes again. By the fires of hell, he’d no’ rest until Ronan Sutherland’s bloody head dripped from a pike in the center of the bailey.

  “We can’t find Kenna.” Mother Sinclair’s shrill cry pierced the cool morning air from where she stood in the arched doorway of the kitchens. “Her blankets are still turned back and smoothed across her bed. She never returned to her room.” Her face pale, Mother Sinclair slumped against the gnarled post of the doorway, clutching her cloak. Her hands trembled and clenched at the loosely woven wool pulled about her shoulders. “We have to hurry. There’s no telling how long they’ve been gone. You’ve got to save my little Kenna.”

  Heavy footsteps pounded into the garden. “Sutherland and all his men are gone. ’Tis as though they were ne’er here.” A groaning gag and then the sound of retching followed the announcement. Colum recognized that voice—’twas Rory from the stable. Heavy breathing, then more retching sounded again. Colum cringed but kept his eyes shut. What the hell could be wrong with the man?

  Bits and pieces of the previous night made their way past the muddled fog twisting through Colum’s aching head. Kenna and Ronan…arm and arm. Fear on Kenna’s face as she turned and looked up at Ronan.

  He bent and clutched his throbbing skull between both hands. Dried blood and matted hair coated the back of his neck. “The bastards nearly split m’skull. Sutherland has stolen m’dear sweet lass. My precious Kenna is gone.” Colum slowly straightened and forced his eyes open. Fury outpaced the burning nausea churning through him as he slowly turned to Gray. “I will kill that son of a bitch.”

  “Fetch Trulie,” Gray bellowed to Mother Sinclair. He turned to a wide-eyed lad with a gathering basket tucked in the crook of his scrawny arm. “You and Rory hie to the stable. Fetch Roarke and bid him gather all the men. I dinna care if they’re unwell or no’. Trulie and Mother Sinclair will heal them all so they may ride.”

  The half-filled basket of herbs crashed to the ground as the boy jumped to do his chieftain’s bidding. Rory veered sideways with a teetering stride and hurried to follow.

  Colum pushed away from the wall, squinting against the dizzying bursts of pain exploding behind his eyes. He lurched to one side and fell back against the stones. “The damn ground willna stop its vicious spinning. Fetch Rua. Get me to m’horse.”

  “Still yerself until Trulie or Mother Sinclair heals ye. If ye keep staggering about like a drunkard, ye will only cause yerself more harm.” Gray latched onto Colum’s arm, steadying him as he pulled him to a bench.

  “Ready the horses.” Gray motioned to a man clad in a leather apron just as the burly brute plowed through the back gate, a pitchfork raised in the air. The garden slowly filled with Gray’s sickly men as word of Kenna’s disappearance spread. All looked a bit pale and drawn about the mouth, but all stood with swords drawn.

  “I go alone.” Colum clutched at Gray’s arm. A growl of pain escaped him as he squinted up into Gray’s face.

  “We go together to take back what is ours. No MacKenna e’er stands alone.” Gray steadied Colum, squeezing a hand atop his shoulder.

  Colum turned away and vomited on the other side of the bench. A roaring sound pounded through his head as flashes of light dimmed his vision. Damn the bastard that did this. Damn Sutherland for stealing m’precious Kenna out from under me verra nose. Colum forced his words through gritted teeth, bloodlust pounding through him. “I go alone to take back what is mine. Vengeance…is mine alone.”

  “Yer no’ fit to travel alone. Ye could verra well still be in a weakened state even after Trulie heals ye; it depends on the harshness of yer wound—and the fickle whim of the Fates deciding if they’ll allow yer healin’.” Gray motioned to the men nearest the gate. “I want ten of ye ready to ride within the hour.”

  Plaids and tunics flapped in the wind as the men turned as one and rushed back out the gate. Their ailments forgotten, the men headed toward the stable, their shouts and curses rumbling like distant thunder.

  Colum scrubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, rocking forward on the bench against the fury burning within. How could he have been such a fool as to let them take her? How could he no’ have seen what they were about?

  Hurried footsteps pattered up the flagstones. Skirts rustled through the grasses and leaves, and whispered murmurings broke Colum’s heart even more. What he wouldna give to hear Kenna’s sweet voice this verra minute. A soft cool hand pressed fingers gently against his throbbing face. “Colum. Can you lift your head? I need to look at you to see what I’m dealing with here.”

  Slowly, Colum lifted his face from his hands and forced his eyes open
the barest bit against the pain of the blinding sunlight. “Hurry, Lady Trulie. Hurry and heal me. I must be on m’way”

  Trulie’s eyes reflected his own pain. The concern in her face shouted that Trulie was just as afraid for her sister’s safety as he was. “I am going to heal you, Colum. Close your eyes against the light. I know it causes you pain.”

  “It nay compares with the ache tearin’ at m’heart.” Colum closed his eyes to Trulie’s worried face and clenched his fists in his lap. “Is Mother Sinclair here yet? I need her to search for a vision—anything to help me find Kenna.”

  “She’s here, Colum.” Trulie’s soothing voice sounded behind him now. “She’s already searching for anything she can see about Ronan Sutherland.”

  “And the Lady Kenna,” Colum choked out. “She must search for m’dearest Kenna.”

  “You know she can’t do that.” Trulie’s voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Kenna’s too close, and so are you now. Granny’s visions are always limited when it comes to family. I’m sorry, Colum. It’s the way of our gifts.”

  It gave Colum some small comfort to learn he had grown so close to the Sinclair women that their powers considered him blood. He remembered how Kenna had told him the premonitions followed a strict code set by the Fates about what could and couldna be seen. The blessed three controlling fate and time were verra particular about just how much the Sinclair women were allowed to meddle with their own personal destinies. The Fates had their own plans when it came to the women’s fate, and they would ne’er allow those plans t’be altered.

  A glimmer of hope sprouted within him as he remembered that Mother Sinclair could look down specific strands of the web of time and see what any number of futures might hold, depending on the choices made by the individuals. She could look down Kenna’s path. Surely the old woman could discover the best way for Colum to get Kenna back and send Sutherland to the hottest level of hell.