My Highland Bride (20 page)

Kenna turned and pushed her tied hands under the nose of the much-shorter Ian. Maybe she could make some headway with this one. “What about your mother? I suppose she would be proud of you too?”

Ian frowned and shook his head as he pushed Kenna’s clasped hands aside. “Master said to chain ye first. Then cut free yer hands and feet—not afore. We’re no’ daft. We know ye canna be trusted until ye accept master for what he is and agree to take his name.”

Liam rattled the lengths of chain wrapped in his hands and grinned a toothy smile when Kenna turned back and faced him. “Ian there ain’t ne’er had no mam. Cook found him squawlin’ in a pile o’ rags in the gutter ’hind the kirk and brought him back to Draegonmare.” Liam threaded the chain through a loop of iron imbedded in the wooden block running the width of the wagon bed, then secured it with an odd-looking bit of twisted metal.

Kenna turned back to Ian and studied the scowling lad. The solemn boy didn’t say a word. Just stood and waited, focused on the length of chain Liam had tossed to him.

Abandoned
. Another twinge of guilt shot through Kenna.
Well, crap on crackers.
She didn’t want to hurt these boys; she just wanted to escape. Ian’s expression was totally devoid of emotion. Kenna swallowed hard. What had the poor boy been through? “I’m sorry, Ian.” She felt bad for both boys. She had lost her parents when she was just five years old, but at least she had never been abandoned. Granny had made certain the four Sinclair sisters always knew they were cherished and loved.

The dark-eyed lad looked up from the chains in his hands and shrugged. “Cook lets me sleep in the kitchen. It’s warm there. I gets lots a scraps, too. I dinna need no mam tellin’ me what to do or frettin’ after me when there ain’t na call for it.”

“An’ the chieftain says as long as we work hard and tell the truth, we can stay at Draegonmare long as we like. He says we’re clan.” Liam shook the lightweight chain loose between the end of the wagon and Kenna. He caught his bottom lip between his oversized front teeth and stared uncomfortably at Kenna’s waist.

So the boy was shy. Kenna lifted her chin and smiled. This could work to her advantage.

And Draegonmare. The name of Ronan Sutherland’s keep made Kenna think of ancient wizards mumbling incantations and jagged lightning exploding from their hands. She pressed her mouth into a tight line against an evil grin as the image of a terrifyingly beautiful dragon blossomed in her mind. It only took the wink of an eye to plant the lovely, winged monstrosity—awesome and mighty, with three horned heads and a body engulfed in blue-white flames—in the dead center of Liam’s mind.

Liam’s eyes widened and filled with fear. Kenna took a step toward the lad and concentrated, visualizing the frightening image of her own private making unfurling its great leathery wings and belching fire in the pupils of Liam’s eyes.

Ian stepped between them and snatched the chain out of Liam’s trembling hands. With an efficient flick of his wrist, he tossed the chain around Kenna’s waist and pulled it tight. “Dinna be tryin’ yer tricks on me. Master tol’ me ye might try to put things in our heads. I ain’t a havin’ it.”

Liam backed his way up the hillside. His trembling voice cracked with fear as he shouted back down to Ian. “I’ll go and get the firewood. Ye watch after that one. I be done with the likes o’ her. Her beastie’s more fierce than master’s.”

“Her beastie’s more fierce than master’s”? What the hell does that mean?
Kenna focused harder and attempted to latch another hold on Liam’s mind, but it was too late. The frightened lad had already scurried well out of range.
Dammit.

Ian laced the hasp of an odd-looking lock through the chain at Kenna’s side and snapped it shut. Without looking her in the face, he pointed a grimy hand toward an outcropping of large rocks and thick bushes. “The chain should reach clear to the other side o’ that bit o’ wood. Ye might e’en get as far as the spring that starts higher up the hillside. When the master says, I’ll come back and move ye closer to the fire.”

“What did Liam mean when he said my beastie’s more fierce than your master’s?”

Ian ignored her. The sullen lad just ran the lightweight chain through his calloused fingers, rechecking each and every link.

A heavy sigh escaped her.
I’m getting nowhere with this one.
Kenna motioned her bound hands downward to her tied ankles. “Now you can untie me.” With one swift movement, Ian slid a short blade through the ropes and allowed the severed pieces to drop to the ground. He didn’t say a word as he finished, just turned and plodded back down the hill to help the others set up camp.

The solemn-faced boy had said he wouldn’t allow her to put images in his mind to scare him. Nor had she been able to achieve more than limited access to his most basic thoughts. Kenna blew out a frustrated huff. It was just as well. During her brief flicker through Ian’s mind, she’d discovered that no monster—at least none of her conjuring—was capable of frightening Ian. But while he’d cut through the ropes, Kenna had glimpsed the one thing Ian did fear. More than anything else, Ian was afraid to fail his chieftain: Ronan Sutherland.

Chapter 22

Colum slid from Rua’s back and walked to the broken edge of the steep ravine. The raw wilderness spread before him. The rugged terrain of this part of MacKenna lands created a jagged tapestry of muted blues and greens broken by patches of gray-white weathered stone. He closed his eyes, tilted his head away from the wind, and listened.

The high-pitched keen of a soaring eagle pierced the dreariness of the heavy gray clouds. Swaying branches of towering pines dotting their way down the furrowed mountainside gently whooshed against each other. The heavy brushes of green whispered about the chill of the wind tossing aside their limbs. Trickling water of a nearby stream murmured with a weak, bubbling gurgle. Ice from the night’s falling temperatures threatened to silence the burn’s gentle song.

Colum slowly turned, scanning the landscape, the open throat of his
léine
flapping against his chest. He ignored the bite of the cold damp wind. His fury warmed him more thoroughly than any fire.

He walked a bit farther up the narrow hard-packed trail, watching the ragged hills and ravines below for the slightest bit of movement. How could Sutherland and his men have gained such a lead, especially burdened with several riders and a wagon? Nothing moved across the wild, vicious grandeur of the land.

Colum turned and squinted up the steep incline rising on the other side of the dirt path. Patches of dark gray jutted out from beneath clumps of twisted trees much smaller than those at Colum’s level. The higher up the side of mountain, the more the trees gave way to tangled carpets of dense vegetation. Solid masses of rock sprouting from the sparse terrain belied the treacherous patches of loose shale waiting to give way at any moment.

Sutherland had no idea of the dangers hidden in this part of the Highlands. Colum’s blood ran cold and he twisted the reins tighter about his hands, leading Rua along beside him. His precious Kenna knew even less of the ruthlessness of this place.
If anythin’ happens to her
…Colum bowed his head. Seething rage shuddered through him.

Colum scraped the road with the toe of his boot, then squatted in the center of the rutted path. He ran a finger along the faint indentation left by a wagon wheel. A light load. A priceless load. Colum slowly straightened. His gaze followed the winding trail hugging the curve of the mountain.

The faded sun sagged lower on the horizon. Its weak rays struggled to send the promise of warmth and light across the land. The day was nearly spent, but Colum’s search was not. With night falling, Sutherland and his men would soon make camp. Hopefully, with the cold and the knowledge that the woman they carried wasna used to braving the elements, the bastards would relent and build a fire. Then—Colum sucked in a deep breath—then the eternal battle of light against darkness would lead Colum straight to his love. His enemy’s fire would serve as a beacon.

His resolve strengthened, Colum mounted, settled back in the saddle, and urged Rua onward. Neither he nor the beast would rest until Kenna was back where she belonged.

Colum kept Rua trained to the softer earth at the edge of the narrow road. The muffled thumps of the great horse’s steady gait faded quickly in the dense vegetation attempting to reclaim the narrow strip of dirt path cut through the land. Anyone farther than a few yards away would never hear them coming.

Rua’s huffing breath clouded the air with a silvery mist. The cold damp air left glistening crystals of moisture along the stiff short whiskers scattered about the horse’s muzzle. Colum scrubbed a hand against the frost of his own breath. Sutherland damn well better keep Kenna sheltered. If she suffered from this weather, Colum would do his level best to take even longer to kill the marauding chieftain.

Colum shifted in the saddle and rolled the tense weariness from his shoulders. At least the last of the dull ache had finally faded from the base of his skull. Lady Trulie had healed away the worst of the pain, but there had been no time to mend completely. Colum sucked in another deep breath of the clean cold air and forced his eyes open wider. Nothing mattered but saving Kenna. Physical pain could be shrugged aside—ignored. But heartache was a type of pain he couldna bear.

Rua snorted a grumbling nicker and tossed his shaggy head. The sturdy warhorse quickened his ground-eating trot like a hound just discovering an elusive scent. Colum leaned forward, straining to see through the cloud of misting rain crawling down the side of the mountain. “What do ye sense, laddie? Is our lady close?”

A bone-chilling howl pierced the air, getting louder and changing pitch as it rose from the bowels of the ravine running along the left side of the road. A second howl and then a third, higher-pitched yipping filled the growing shadows. Colum’s own irritated growl stirred the sense of urgency unfurling in his gut.
Wolves.

Rua grumbled again and slowed his pace. With each step, he raised his front hooves higher and brought them down harder in a threatening stomp. His black ears pitched back against his head, leaving absolutely no doubt as to the horse’s current mood. Rua hated wolves almost as much as he hated fire.

Colum unsheathed his sword and balanced it across his lap. From the location of the now multiple yips and howls, the pack was moving through the woods at a loping pace. Colum’s uneasiness grew. Wolves were usually silent hunters. What the hell was all the howling about? Were the animals tracking Sutherland and his party? Had bloodlust and hunger caused the pack to toss caution to the wind? Many an unwary traveler had fallen to the beasts of late.

If not for Lady Trulie’s outspoken wrath, Gray would’ve ordered every wolf on MacKenna land hunted down and killed. Other clans had taken such measures to protect their lands. Even the king had ordered hunts to bring the voracious predators in check.

Colum couldna help but chuckle at the memory of the Sinclair women’s reaction to Gray’s proposal. Lady Trulie had all but boxed Gray’s ears in front of all those gathered in the great hall when he’d broached the subject of a wolf hunt. Luckily for Colum, he’d seen the fire in Kenna’s eyes before it was too late and kept his own mouth shut. His chieftain was on his own. All the Sinclair women knew their own minds and were nay afraid to speak them.

But wolves did pose a problem. Colum tensed and shifted forward in the saddle. A sense of foreboding goaded him on as he urged Rua back to the center of the road. “We best quicken the pace, laddie. The noise will just be damned.” He’d already failed to protect Kenna once. He’d face any danger, anywhere, before he’d allow himself to fail to protect her again.

Chapter 23

A heavy cloak settled down around her shoulders. Kenna tore her gaze away from the glowing coals undulating at the base of the fire and found herself snared in Ronan’s unusual steely gaze. His eyes were the oddest pewter shade. They reminded Kenna of deadly liquid mercury.
Such a strange color for eyes
. They almost gave her the impression the man was filled with molten metal—like some futuristic being attempting to pass for human. Kenna blinked the absurd thought away.
Now is not the time to go bat-shit crazy
.

“Thank you.” She pulled the cloak closer about her throat. The frigid night air had folded in around them, heavy and damp with the threat of snow. The rocky slab of ground under her pallet radiated the bone-chilling moisture up into her flesh.

“The air has a particular bite to it tonight this high in the mountains. I wouldna wish a chill t’come upon ye.” Ronan sat on an upturned chunk of wood beside her and stared into the fire. “Liam reports ye neither ate yer midday meal nor took a single bite of the fine roasted meat Rebbie prepared for the lot of us. Such news troubles me greatly.”

“I’m just not hungry.” The chain knotted around her waist rattled a dull metallic reminder that Ronan kept her on a short leash. Kenna curled her knees up to her chest and snuggled deeper into the warm richness of the heavy wool wrapped about her body.

She wasn’t lying about not being hungry. Well…maybe she was, just a little. She was just too frustrated to think about eating right now. Icy, sweet water from the nearby spring had slaked her thirst, and a chewy crust of a day-old bannock had been enough to chase away any light-headed feeling of deprivation. She really didn’t need anything else. All she needed right now was for Colum to show up and take her back home.

Kenna tightened against a rumbling growl churning through her middle. She swallowed hard and willed her stomach to be silent by visualizing the last meal she had been offered. That memory alone quelled any sign of appetite she might entertain. She just couldn’t make herself eat whatever varmint Rebbie had speared for supper. The thing had looked horrendous. A shudder stole across her, a combined result of cold air and the all-too-fresh memory of some strange skinned carcass slowly turning on a spit.