My Highland Bride (31 page)

“Danger?” Colum stepped away from Rua. What the hell was Mother Sinclair saying?
Removed from harm? What harm?

“Yes. Kenna won’t say so herself but I know she’s not safe.” Granny leaned heavily on the walking stick as she gimped toward the stable door. “I’ve seen men like Ronan before. Kenna won’t speak of it but I’ve seen her bruises. I’m old, but I’m not blind. I know what’s really going on.”

“Bruises?” Scalding rage surged through Colum like a choking gulp of the raw whisky he loved. “The bastard struck Kenna?”

Granny shrugged a thin shoulder and yanked open the stable door. “It’s none of your concern, Colum. Don’t worry about it. The MacKennas and the Sinclairs will handle it.” Granny paused and turned back. Her face puckered with a displeased scowl aimed straight at Colum. “Unlike you, we never abandon our own.” She let the wooden door slam shut behind her.

The bastard dared to strike Kenna? Now, he had even more reason to kill him, and by the gods, he wouldna wait to do it ’neath the cloak of the Highlands. He’d no’ allow Sutherland another night to torment his Kenna. Rage burned hotter with every beat of his heart. He’d end the man this verra evening—with the clan as his witness.

Colum stormed out of the stable and made his way down the far side of the skirting wall to access the outer staircase leading up to his rooms. He needed his best sword and dagger. The practice sword he’d used in the field didna have the weight he longed to feel in his hands when he cleaved Sutherland’s head from his shoulders.

The low murmuring of an irritatingly familiar voice drew his attention to the bit of land just beyond the skirting wall. Colum hoisted himself up to the narrow walkway built around the wall’s rim, keeping crouched low as he moved toward the voice.

“I fear she’s nay the one,
Máthair.”

“Máthair”?
Colum slowly rose, taking care to remain hidden while peeping over the wall. A sense of shock wrapped icy fingers around his chest and squeezed. The ability to breathe left him for a good bit. He knelt back down on the path, leaned against the wall, and scrubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
No. It canna be.
He eased back up and peered over the wall again.

Ronan stood down at the water’s edge, the morning sun reflecting off the silver of his hair with his every move. Standing beside him, raptly taking in his every word, was one of the largest wolves Colum had ever seen. The beast’s rich, plush fur rippled and parted in the gentle breeze as it cocked its head first to one side, then slowly tilted it the other way as Ronan spoke.

Colum swallowed hard, gripping the edges of the block wall so hard the chiseled stone threatened to crumble in his hands. The wolf Sutherland had called “
Máthair”
wasna nearly as shocking as the unholy beast with the great horned head and black neck sprouting high above the water’s surface. The dark shadow of the beast’s enormous body rippled beneath the waves. Wispy tendrils of smoke curled up from the monster’s nostrils as he brought his head closer to Sutherland’s, then appeared to completely agree with whatever had been said by nodding with a slow up-and-down bobbing of his scaly muzzle.

That settled it. Chieftain Ronan Sutherland would be stopped before he left the keep. No man who had obviously sold his soul to the devil himself would take Kenna—not while Colum lived and breathed.

Colum crept along the narrow path, not straightening to his full height until he reached the shelter of the archway enclosing the staircase to his rooms. He vaulted up the steps two at a time, then hurried down the torch-lit hallway to his chambers. Shouldering open the heavy oak door, he quickly closed it behind him and bolted the lock. He had no time for interruptions by curious chambermaids or lads tending to the rooms. He had a sword to sharpen. He had a murder to plan.
Nay. No’ a murder. I have justice t’serve.

Chapter 36

Kenna almost choked on her mead as Colum plowed into the hall with sword drawn and a look on his face that clearly indicated his level of rage had reached critical mass. Granny had said she’d had a chat with him earlier and apparently, she’d more than effectively baited the bear.

All conversation ceased and the gentle vibrations from Coira’s lyre faded as her slender hands stilled the music of the strings. Even Karma was roused, hefting himself up from the floor, then rolling back on his great haunches and perking his ears forward in rapt interest. The air of the room thickened with anticipation.

“My chieftain.” Colum clenched his sword across his body as he came to a halt in front of Gray.

Gray didn’t say a word, just straightened in his chair as though bracing himself for whatever Colum was about to say.

Colum widened his stance and aimed the point of his sword at the center of Ronan’s chest. “I would show this man what happens when he dishonors and disrespects a cherished woman of our clan.” He lifted his sword a hair’s breadth higher and jabbed it toward Ronan. “This man is no’ mighty chieftain. He brings evil to our midst.”

Gray leaned forward and glanced toward Ronan. “What claim do ye make against this man? I would hear it.” He waved a hand to encompass all those gathered in the room. “We would all hear it.”

Kenna slid her cup of mead to the small table beside her chair. She couldn’t risk another sip. Nauseating dread already sloshed what little she’d choked down for supper.
Please don’t let this end badly.
She couldn’t bear it if either man suffered on her account. She loved Colum and considered Ronan an honorable man and friend.

The corded muscles in Colum’s sword arm rippled as he jabbed the tip of the blade even harder toward Ronan’s chest. “This man dared abuse the Lady Kenna. That alone is enough for this challenge. But I also witnessed, with me own eyes, what an unholy abomination this man truly is.”

Kenna held her breath as Ronan slowly rose from the chair beside her. He took a step forward and jerked his chin in Colum’s direction. “State yer evidence, man. I’ll no’ be challenged o’er the tongue-waggin’ of ill-disciplined servants or what a fool besotted wi’ whisky might think he witnessed. Many demons live in the bottom of a bottle.” Ronan huffed out a snorting, humorless laugh. “I’ve no time for such games.”

Colum hitched another step toward Ronan, his face flaming a murderous red and his lips curled back in a teeth-baring sneer. “Her own grandmother has seen the bruises. I have the truth from the Lady Kenna’s own bloodline.”

Ronan clenched his hands to the small of his back and turned to glare at Granny. “Is this true, old woman?”

Granny responded with a curt nod and sat straighter in her chair. “Yes. I told Colum the truth. I have seen Kenna’s bruises.”

Kenna bit the inside of her cheek and fixed Granny with an
I-can’t-believe-you-said-that
stare. The only bruises she had were the ones from the mudslide. What the hell had Granny told Colum?

Granny folded her hands in her lap, narrowing her eyes the slightest bit as she lifted her chin.

Kenna knew that look. Granny had just told her to keep her mouth shut and watch. A dismal sigh escaped her. This wasn’t going to be good.

Gray’s hands closed into fists atop the arms of his chair. “State yer challenge, Colum.” The chieftain slowly stood and nodded with a sweeping glance toward all gathered in the room. “State yer intent clearly, to be heard by all. All claims will be judged, settled, and witnessed by those gathered here this day.”

Colum hitched forward and rested the tip of his blade against Ronan’s chest. He raised his voice to ring out across the hall. “I challenge ye. Swords. To the death. I intend t’free the Lady Kenna of yer insulting burden. She has no use for a
husband
such as yerself.” Colum had growled out the word “
husband,”
leaving no doubt about his feelings toward the term in its current context.

“No.” Kenna sprang from her seat and rushed forward. Not to the death. She’d never be able to live with that.

“Sit, woman. ’Tis past time ye learned yer place as m’wife.” Ronan didn’t spare Kenna a backward glance, just barked the order as though she were one of his hunting dogs wandering too far from his heel.

Kenna stared at Ronan.
What the hell?
He’d never talked to her like that before. Was the new asshole attitude just another facet of this ridiculous testosterone charade?

“Kenna.” Granny spit her name in a hissing whisper. She jerked a knobby finger back toward Kenna’s seat. “Sit. Down. Now.”

Kenna clamped her mouth shut and returned to her chair. She clenched her hands in her lap and prayed they all knew what the hell they were doing.

“It escapes me why ye would risk a challenge for one such as her.” Ronan inclined his silver head in Kenna’s direction. His face twisted into a scowl as though he’d just smelled a very bad stench. “Strong-willed and sharp-tongued, she is. Ye best leave that stubborn one’s breakin’ in t’me. I doubt verra much ye can handle her.” Ronan gestured to Colum’s scarred leg. “Especially as weakened as ye are.”

Colum’s face darkened to a deeper shade of crimson. His voice shook with rage as he pointed his sword at Ronan’s heart. “Yer no’ fit t’care for a litter of mongrels. Yer a bluidy fool and I intend t’do ye the favor of relievin’ ye of this life’s worries.”

Kenna eased back out of her seat and slid behind Gray’s chair. Ronan had pulled his own sword free by this time and the men were slowly circling each other like a pair of raging stags preparing to lock antlers.

Kenna squeezed Gray’s shoulder and clutched at Trulie’s arm. She leaned down between them and lowered her voice. “You two have to stop this. They’re going to kill each other. If one of them dies, I can’t live with it. Please—do something!”

Gray didn’t bother turning, just edged forward and kept his attention focused on the two men. “Let it play out. Much is at stake here. Ye have no idea just how much.”

Trulie didn’t say a word, just sadly shook her head and returned her attention to the fight about to ensue.

Damn them all and their ridiculous Highland pride. That’s what had started this entire roller-coaster ride of sheer idiocy in the first place. Kenna gripped the carved finials atop Trulie’s and Gray’s chairs until her knuckles ached.

Colum lunged forward swinging his broadsword across his body in a lethal downward arc. The nerve-shattering clash of steel against steel echoed to the rafters as Ronan leapt to one side and deflected the strike with his own upward thrust.

Colum turned with a deft rolling spin, slashing back across his path with enough force to cleave Ronan’s head from his shoulders. Ronan crouched just in time to miss the glinting edge of the well-honed blade as it whizzed within inches of his head.

Ronan roared as he clutched his sword in both hands and hefted it upward in a powerful lunge. His blade sang along the edge of Colum’s weapon as Ronan muscled forward.

Colum teetered off balance, stumbled back, and nearly went down. He recovered the attack with a diving roll that moved him just inches away from the path of Ronan’s blade.

Ronan’s taunting laugh drowned out the collective gasps of those gathered in the hall. “Ye grow weak already? I would ha’ thought a man able to survive the cruelties of the Highlands would surely consider this bit a swordplay as easy as tumblin’ a maid in the gardens.”

Colum didn’t respond, just bared his teeth as he labored to his feet and heaved his sword over his head.

“ ’Tis about t’end.” Gray spared a glance back at Kenna. “Ye best be ready.”

“Ready? Ready for what?” Kenna nearly choked on the words as Colum split the air with a bloodthirsty roar and charged Ronan.

Ronan raised his sword and met Colum head-on, but the combined force of Colum’s rage and his massive frame toppled Ronan backward to the floor. The weight of the men’s crashing impact against the stones clattered Ronan’s weapon from his fist and sent it spinning out of reach.

Colum reared back, then hammered the pommel of his sword downward. Ronan twisted, deflected the blow, then shoved Colum off balance and bucked him off his chest. Colum labored to his feet and charged forward before Ronan could rise from the floor. Colum’s chest heaved with ragged breaths as he kneed Ronan backward and pressed the glinting tip of his blade to the base of Ronan’s throat. Crimson pooled where steel met flesh, then slowly trailed down the sides of Ronan’s neck.

Ronan’s eyes narrowed. His tensed hands opened and closed as he glared up at Colum. “Finish it.”

Kenna couldn’t take it anymore. She rushed out from behind Gray’s chair and ran to Colum. “Stop this right now. This must stop.”

Neither Colum nor Ronan acknowledged they’d heard her.

Colum slowly lifted his chin. The bulging muscles of his arms glistened beneath the dancing flames of the torches. He slowly turned the blade the barest bit against Ronan’s throat as he hitched his massive frame into a wider stance. The trickle of blood down Ronan’s flesh grew heavier.

This had gone too far. A frustrated growl tore from her throat as Kenna slammed both fists against Colum’s chest. “Stop this lunacy right now. Don’t you dare spill more blood because of me.”

“If I kill him…” Colum never took his gaze from Ronan’s expressionless face, just resettled his fingers across the worn haft of the sword. “If I kill him, he’ll ne’er hurt ye again.” Colum’s chest rose and fell like a panting beast crazed from the hunt. Bloodlust shone in his eyes. All reason had left him.

Kenna dropped to her knees beside Ronan, wrapped her hands in the tail of her skirt, and grabbed hold of the blade now aimed at Ronan’s heart. It was no use. Colum’s strength had the blade locked for the final thrust. No matter how hard she yanked, the steel wouldn’t budge. “Colum…no. Please. I am begging you. Please. You must spare him.” Panic closed icy fingers around her throat and choked off her words. “Please don’t do this.”

“Chieftain Sutherland. Do ye renounce yer claim on m’wife’s sister?” Gray’s resounding voice cut through the oppressive silence of the room and rang out across the rafters.

Ronan’s face darkened into a scowl as he glared up at Colum. He bared his teeth like a cornered animal before he spit his reply. “Nay.” The word sounded like the enraged growl of a trapped beast challenging the killing blow of the hunter.