Authors: Maeve Greyson
The dried hay covering the ground crunched beneath her doeskin slippers as she hurried around to the back of the keep and slipped into the kitchen gardens. The cool breeze of the early morning combed welcoming fingers through her curls. A familiar woof rumbled from behind a cluster of dew-coated hawthorns, followed by the soft singsong murmur of the dog’s favorite Sinclair sister.
“I’ve been looking for you. You’ve got Granny in a real snit.” Trulie snuggled the folds of her wrap closer about her face as she followed close behind Karma. “Are you all right?”
Kenna rubbed Karma’s broad velvety head as he greeted her with a hugging “lean” against her legs that nearly staggered her. Kenna ignored Trulie’s question. To be completely honest, she didn’t know if she was all right or not. “Where’s my favorite niece?”
“Keeping Granny occupied so I can help you sort through whatever it is you’re currently plotting or trying to figure out.”
Trulie always did know how to cut to the chase. “I don’t know what I’m plotting. I may have overloaded my plate this time. Things just aren’t going like I planned.” Kenna slid one of Karma’s soft black ears through her fingers like a fold of heavy velvet. “Last night…wasn’t…” She stopped. How could she possibly vocalize the confused mess whirling through her mind?
“Last night wasn’t what?” Trulie wrapped an arm around Kenna and gave an encouraging squeeze.
Kenna shrugged. “Well. It just wasn’t exactly the way I thought it was going to be, and now I’m wondering if I should’ve waited.”
Trulie pursed her lips and slowly shook her head. “If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about…the first time for the woman isn’t always one of the more stellar moments on the toe-curling-passion scale.”
“I’m not saying it was bad.” Kenna took a deep breath. What the hell was she trying to say? Even she didn’t know. “And I’m not even sure he’ll remember it.” Kenna tightened the cloak against the plucking fingers of the briny wind coming in from the sea. She really needed to get inside and get some sleep. Her worries had kicked into overdrive last night and prevented anything more than uneasy dozing. “And I don’t have a freakin’ clue about what I should do now. I’m afraid I’ve overplayed my hand.”
“What do you mean he may not remember it?” Trulie arched a brow at Kenna’s exposed bare leg as the wind whipped at the tail of the cloak. “And are you naked under there?”
“Yes, I’m naked.” Kenna quickened her pace toward the keep as she clutched the cloak tighter about her legs. “And he might not remember it because I think he was well oiled with whisky.”
Trulie’s confused expression smoothed to one of immediate understanding. “I’d lay odds he’ll remember. Our strong bonnie Scots handle a wee dram quite well.”
“You need to work on your accent.” Kenna stomped along the path faster. She was in no mood to joke around. She pulled up short as they reached the door, ran a thumb along the cool iron latch, and white-knuckled the handle. “So you think it’ll be different…next time?” If there ever was a next time. How could she get Trulie to understand how confused she was about the way things had been last night and what her next move should be?
Trulie pulled Kenna’s hand away from the latch and cradled it between her hands. “It takes time for two people to open up to the love and trust it takes to create an unforgettable joining. You have to learn each other—feel each other’s needs and wants. It’s not all about animal instinct and humping your way to the perfect bump and grind. Great sex—truly satisfying sex—doesn’t just happen. You gotta work at it with someone you love.”
“Work at it?”
“Yep.” Trulie grinned. “Trust me. It’s the only job you’ll ever really love.”
“Yeah…well…I’m not even sure I’ve been hired for the job.” Kenna pushed through the door to the keep and held it open for Karma and Trulie to follow. “What if it didn’t mean anything to him? What if he decides to ride off into the sunset anyway? You heard what he said about being my champion or protector.” Kenna stomped down the hallway. “I don’t need a champion or protector. I just need him.”
“What has Granny told you about the ‘what-if’ game?” Trulie called back over one shoulder as she led the way up the spiraling staircase.
Kenna padded along behind her. “I don’t need Granny lectures right now.” And she didn’t. She needed Trulie to come up with a good solid plan and help her execute it.
Lord have mercy. I never thought marrying a man would take a full-scale Sinclair battle plan.
Trulie stopped in front of Kenna’s bedchamber and pushed the door open. “I’ll have Coira draw you up a bath—a nice
hot
bath. Catch a nap, then have a good long soak. We’ll figure this out, don’t you worry.”
“I’m counting on you, Sis, because we all know how well my last plan worked.”
Trulie snorted. “Yeah, we won’t talk about the
I’ll-just-make-him-jealous plan
again—ever.”
Chapter 39
Without opening his eyes, he rolled to his side and reached for her warmth. The cold, rough weave of the thick pallet scratched against his fingers. Colum jerked to a sitting position, immediately wide awake. A dull pounding behind his eyes slowed his movements as he looked about the tack room. Where was she? Had last night’s bit of heaven been no more than a whisky-fueled dream?
He cupped his aching head between his hands.
Nay. Such pleasure could ne’er ha’ been just a dream.
Slowly, he rose to his feet, ripping his plaid away from the dull gray bedding as he stood. There. Right there was the proof—the small dark stain where his love had bestowed upon him the most precious gift of all.
Emotions stronger than any he’d ever felt swept over him, threatened to push him back to his knees.
Mine.
He stared down at the telltale stain.
Forever mine.
He scrubbed his fingertips against the stubble of his jawline as he sidled back and forth alongside the bedding. He had finally laid claim to the woman he’d never truly believed he would ever have.
Now what was he to do?
Possibilities, hopes, and fears raced through his mind as he yanked his
léine
on over his head and wrapped his plaid about his body. After last night, there was no way in hell he was waiting until he’d built a keep or acquired a bit of wealth before they wed. He wanted Kenna. Now. Tied to him and unavailable to any other man for all eternity—and he was damn sure going to make certain that eternity started now.
The door to the tack room creaked out a warning as Gray pushed through it. “There ye be. Why the hell did ye no’ sleep in yer rooms?”
“That makes no difference now.” Colum waved away Gray’s question. “I need yer council and yer help—as friend…and chieftain.”
Gray’s face darkened as he folded his arms across his chest and lowered his chin in a slow nod. “Name it.”
“Kenna must be mine.”
The scowl disappeared from Gray’s face and he relaxed back against the broad post of the doorway. “Agreed.”
“My wife.” He had to make sure Gray fully understood the severity of the situation.
“Aye.” Gray nodded, his smile growing ever wider.
Colum sucked in a deep breath, then swallowed hard against the knot of pride about to choke off his wind. “I have no keep and I canna provide for a wife and bairns as Clan MacKenna’s man-at-arms.”
Gray pushed away from the wall, his attention drawn to the disheveled bedding in the center of the room as he eased around it in a tight circle. He stopped walking, his focus trained on the telltale sign spotting the weave. “I see.”
“Dammit, Gray. Dinna make this any harder than it already is.” Colum cinched his sword belt tighter and snugged it about his hips. “I have to marry the woman. Now. She is mine and I would have all witness it without a doubt, but I have no way to provide for her.”
Gray clapped a hand atop Colum’s shoulder. “Yer the brother I never had and ye be as prideful as any MacKenna ever hoped t’be.”
“Aye—and m’damn pride came close to costin’ me everything.” Colum closed his eyes, knuckling his fist hard against his temple. “I canna wait ages t’marry Kenna, but for the life o’ me, I dinna ken what to do.”
“Ye will honor yer chief by acceptin’ the role of Clan MacKenna’s war chieftain and reside here at the keep with yer wife. Yer a brave man, and none can best ye when it comes to the skills of a warrior. Ye will stay here and help me lead this clan—make it stronger than ever before.” Gray bowed his head and blew out a heavy breath. “My only regret is that I didna make this offer to ye sooner. Much pain couldha been avoided. And for that, m’friend, I apologize and beg yer forgiveness.”
Gray’s words vanquished the knot of frustration centered in Colum’s chest, replacing it with an almost overwhelming sense of gratitude and hope. “There is nothin’ t’forgive.” Colum took Gray’s extended hand and gripped it hard. “The Sinclair women have oft said that all things happen for a reason. Perhaps, the Fates decided I needed a bit of testing afore they’d grant me this most precious woman as me own.”
“Aye.” Gray nodded and pulled Colum toward the door. “Come. There is much t’be done if we’re to have a weddin’ this afternoon.” He paused, fixing a sideways glance at Colum. “I assume ye wish to marry the lass this verra day. Aye?”
“Aye,” Colum repeated. “And I’d be most honored if ye’d be the one t’oversee our vows.”
“The honor is mine, brother.” Gray winked. “I’ll set the Sinclair women to fetchin’ yer bride and bringin’ her to the reflectin’ pool this afternoon. Now, come—we’ve but a few hours to prepare.”
Chapter 40
“Up wi’ ye now. Yer no’ goin’ to be sleepin’ this day away.”
Kenna opened her eyes to Coira’s stern expression and an even sterner shaking of her shoulder. She pushed Coira’s hands away. “Okay—I’m awake. Don’t get your knickers in a knot.”
Coira rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she pulled Kenna upright to a sitting position. “I dinna ken what ‘knickers’ are but I’m quite certain yer bathwater is cooling so ye best be gettin’ yer arse in it if ye wish to have yer wash in warm water.”
A bath. Warm water. Sounded like pure heaven—and maybe Trulie was right. Maybe once she relaxed with a good long soak, a proper plan of attack to manage Colum’s pride might make itself known to her. Or at least maybe by the time she got out of the bath and got dressed, Trulie and Granny might’ve come up with something.
She eased down into the tub, then snuggled back against the cloth Coira had layered in thick folds across one end. She closed her eyes and breathed in the steam. The floral scent of rose water wafted across her senses. Rose water? That was Granny’s prize possession, and only used on special occasions. “Did you put some of Granny’s rose water in here?”
“Aye.” Coira’s voice echoed from the bedchamber, where a series of sharp thumps and bumps interrupted the hurried
pat-patting
of Coira’s boots against the wood flooring. “Wash quickly, mistress. I be gatherin’ yer things to dress ye good and proper.”
Just before Kenna submerged completely to wet her hair, Coira’s panicked voice came from the bedchamber doorway. “Dinna get yer hair soaked. We’ve no’ time for it to dry.”
“No time for it to dry”?
“What do you mean we’ve no time for it to dry? We’ve got the rest of the day.” Kenna waited for Coira’s response.
Nothing but more thudding of cabinets came from the other room.
She had too much on her mind to battle Coira. It was easier to just go along. Obediently, Kenna twisted her hair into a loose knot on the top of her head, then wrapped the twisted ends around the base of the bun and snugged it in tight to hold it in place well above the level of the steaming water.
“Ne’er ye mind.” Coira bustled across the room, arms overflowing with clothes. She plopped the clothes across the back of the settee, then turned and sharply clapped. “Lore a’mighty, ye’ve the speed of a salted slug today. Up wi’ ye now. Time t’dry and get ye dressed.”
“I just got in here.”
“And ye’ll just be gettin’ out, as well.”
“You’re naggier than usual today. Are you feeling all right?” Kenna reluctantly stepped out of the tub, scooped up the drying cloth, and hurried to stand in front of the fire. Now she knew something was up, because Coira hadn’t even scolded her about drying herself off rather than allowing Coira to do it. Instead the maid was busily sorting through the clothing she’d laid out across the settee.
“Fine and fit as can be.” Coira snatched the drying cloth out of her hands and tossed it to the floor beside the tub. She sniffed in a deep breath and smiled her approval. “Ye smell as sweet as a rose garden—just as ye should on this day.”
“ ‘This day’?” Kenna obediently held her arms up over her head and closed her eyes as Coira yanked the linen underdress down into place.
Coira didn’t answer as she pulled a pale green overdress over Kenna’s head and smoothed it down her body. “Dinna breathe in—I wish to get the laces good and tight.”
Kenna yelped as Coira yanked the bodice laces so hard she nearly lost her footing. She ran a finger along the seams and pulled. “I can’t breathe. Loosen them up.”
Coira smacked her hands away. “Nay. There’s no’ a thing wrong with the laces. Ye’ll leave them be.” She rolled a thin white stocking between her hands as she knelt in front of Kenna. “Gi’ me yer foot.”
Kenna obediently lifted her skirts and held out one foot. She was surprised at the softness of the thin white stocking. “These are nice. Have you been holding out on me by making me where those itchy ones instead of these?”
“Other foot.” Coira jerked her head down at Kenna’s other leg and waited.
Something was going on. Coira was uncharacteristically businesslike. What had happened to the bubbling chatterbox who was more friend than maid? Kenna leaned forward and snagged hold of both of Coira’s wrists. “What is going on? You’re acting weird.”
Coira’s pale blue eyes widened and her reddish brows arched clear to the layer of ruffles sewn about her bonnet. She pulled her hands free, snatched up what looked to be a brand-new pair of light brown slippers, and held them out. “Finish dressing if ye wish to discover what the day holds, ’cause I’ll no’ be a tellin’ ye a thing.”