“I suppose, as the mon, I should be. It’s my duty to protect you, to keep you safe, and I didn’t do that. But I’m just too damn proud to feel aught else.”
“Ronan, if you’d fought alone in your cell, they would have killed you.”
“Likely, even with my dirks.”
“And even if you found the keys, where would you have gone? You didn’t know aboot the sea cave.”
“I wouldn’t have left my men behind, no matter how much I wanted to be with you.”
“Because you’re not selfish. Without you as a captive, there would have been no reason to let your men live. They would have killed them if you escaped. You don’t put your wants ahead of those you serve.”
“I try not to.” Ronan kissed Abigail softly, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. “My cell door was never open at the same time as the others until that day. I admit I wasn’t sure I had the strength to fight. But given the opportunity to get to you—to rescue you finally—I discovered a reserve I wasn’t certain I had.”
Abigail watched Ronan’s expressions. She believed him—mostly. “Ronan? Do you feel guilty that with your hands free that you should have tried, even if you might have died?”
Ronan pressed his lips into a tight line before he nodded. “I wouldn’t leave my men behind, but I also couldn’t leave without being sure you could come with me. You told me they locked you in at night, and I had no keys to free anyone. Abigail, I would have let us all die before leaving you.”
“You know you didn’t fail, don’t you? Your men were just as free as you, and with at least two of them in each cell, overpowering the guards would have been easier for them than you.”
“I’m not bothered that a woman saved me. But each time I’ve wound up in a dungeon, it’s been because of my failures as a leader.”
“Have you made the same mistake twice? You can’t control everything. Things are going to happen that you can’t stop. That doesn’t make you a failure.”
“I knew the risks of sailing past Dunvegan.”
“How the hell were you supposed to get us here without doing that? Ride across Skye after coming ashore on the MacNeacails’ land or the MacQueens’? Both clans might ally with the MacDonalds, but that only means they’re not always your enemy. It would have taken longer to ride. You did what you knew was best, especially in the middle of winter. And if you wish to survive the night, you’d better not suggest that I should have stayed in Stornoway without you. I would have swum.”
“I suppose I should stay quiet then.”
“You became laird because God made you the son of a laird. You’ve taken that burden on with unfailing loyalty and duty. But you cannot take everything that goes wrong as a personal failure.”
“It feels like failure when the one person who means more than aught is in danger.”
“Please stop.” Abigail cupped Ronan’s jaw in both hands. “You protected me when we nearly got trapped in the Glencoe Pass. You protected me by telling me to get under the bench. I would have wound up with an arrow through me if you hadn’t. You protected me by not letting any of the MacLeods onto the boat. I would have been dead before Gordon or Donovan decided to take us. You told me Cecily would make sure I had a chamber, and you were right. You warned me aboot the food, and from Cormag’s looks during the meals, you were wise to do so. You did the best with what you had.”
“The thought of you looking at me as aught less than you deserve is more than I can bear,” Ronan whispered.
“Then it’s a bluidy good thing you are far more than I deserve, expected, or even hoped for. Now cease, so I can make love to you.” Abigail didn’t wait for Ronan’s answer before she slid down the bed. She glanced up at Ronan as he rolled onto his back. She stroked his thickening cock as she swirled her tongue around the tip. She took its bulbous head into her mouth, her lips wrapping tightly. She watched Ronan’s eyes slide shut as she took his length into her mouth. With the first hint of suction, Ronan’s eyes opened, and he tucked his arm under his head. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. As he watched his wife work his length, a hunger of his own made his mouth water.
“Turn around, Abby.”
Abigail’s brow furrowed, but she moved to kneel on the other side of Ronan’s leg. She yelped when he grasped her hips and pulled them toward him. He arranged her legs to straddle his chest. She was unprepared for the feel of his tongue along her seam. She glanced back at him, enjoying the lusty gleam in his eyes. She hadn’t conceived of such a position, nor did she imagine her husband thinking of it. But she’d already discovered that her husband’s lack of experience had little impact on his creativity or curiosity. Her eyes drifted closed, concentration and arousal mingling. It wasn’t long before the need to kiss and look at one another took hold. Abigail moved to allow her sheath to slide down Ronan’s sword, moving them in tandem until she collapsed against his chest, both replete. Ronan wrapped his arms around Abigail’s narrower frame and sighed. They drifted to sleep until the bells for the evening meal roused them.
Thirty-Three
“The men said they heard at least two score warriors leave Dunvegan with the purpose of coming here. Mayhap the weather got the better of them, or mayhap they’ve been waiting it out. But we must check on the outlying villages.” Ronan sat in his solar with Clyde after the evening meal. He’d already escorted Abigail up to their chamber and tucked his sleepy wife into bed. Now he met with his second to relay the events of their capture and to plan for a defense.
Forty men were hardly enough to lay waste to Dun Ringill, even if Ronan had been away. But it was more than enough to wreak havoc on villages a day’s ride from the keep. The force was enough to defeat several patrols, opening the way for a larger army from Dunvegan to march on them. It was foolish to attempt such an attack during winter, but he no longer put anything past Cormag, especially after the death of his brothers.
“I didna hear aught from any of the men, nor is anyone unaccounted for,” Clyde pointed out. “But that doesnae mean the MacLeods didna make it onto our land. But I must ask, doesnae it make it difficult kenning ye’re fighting yer wife’s people?”
“If you’d seen Abby drive that knife into Donovan’s throat without flinching, you would ken she doesn’t consider them family. Neither does Kieran. They share common ancestry, but they’ve been rivals on and off for generations. Because the Dunvegan bastards areSìol Thormoid, they’ve claimed superiority since their branch came first. They don’t care thatSìol Thorcaillon Lewis all hail from same progenitor—the aptly named Leod.” Ronan rolled his eyes. No MacKinnon was impressed with the story of how the MacLeods came to be. Their own clan descended from the earliest kings of Scotland and even kings of Ireland. “You ken once the Lewis branch became vassals to the MacDonalds of Islay, those here on Skye believed themselves untouchable. Never mind that they were vassals too! Bluidy Islay calls both Cormag and Kieran ‘the greatest of nobles.’ That ridiculous title of Lord lingers on from Islay’s days up Edward Balliol’s arse. Kieran tolerates Cormag—or rather tolerated the bastard—for the sake of keeping the peace within the islands and keeping our business away from the Bruce and those at court who would argue we Hebrideans must come to heel.”
“Will Kieran and his men stay to fight?”
“Only if the fight comes to us before they plan to depart. Kieran said he’d stay for another two days to visit with Abby. I think he’s pleased to see for himself that she’s settled here.” Ronan wished he could lavish time on Abigail and show her around the land surrounding Dun Ringill, but between the winter weather and the potential threat, it was impossible. He hadn’t told her that he would likely ride out while Kieran was still visiting. He felt better knowing his brother-by-marriage was in residence while he was away. He trusted Bethea and Angus to manage the keep, and his clan council would lead their people. But he hated the thought of abandoning Abigail the moment they arrived.
“I can go for ye.” Clyde broke into Ronan’s thoughts.
