Trulie snorted out a laugh and shook her head. “Colum will come around. Give him time.”
“I’m about ready to take another waltz through his mind and rearrange the furniture.” Kenna curled her feet up beneath her and fluffed out her skirts. “A few select memories erased here and there, a few well-placed suggestions and by golly, we would have a wedding date set before you knew it.”
“You know better than to use your gifts for personal advantage.” Trulie wagged a warning finger in Kenna’s direction. “And I thought you said the last time you attempted to rewind one of your spats with Colum, he felt you in his mind and booted you out?”
An indignant squeak followed by the rustling sounds of tiny feet kicking blankets came from the cradle across the room.
With a weary sigh, Trulie hoisted herself up from the bench in response to an impatient yip from Karma, standing watch beside the cradle, and the angry flapping of owl wings. “I heard her. You can both stand down. I’m coming to get her.” The annoyed wail gained strength and grew louder from the depths of the cradle. Both owl and dog paced uneasily from side to side as if doing so would cause Trulie to respond more quickly to the needs of their charge.
Kenna chose not to answer Trulie’s question. She would rather not relive the last time she had tried to wipe a memory out of Colum’s mind. The memory had been there—right there in the palm of her hand. She had wrapped her fingers tightly around it, the one where she had acted the fool and blessed Colum out for being such a stubborn ass over something as trivial as her walking through the bailey unaccompanied. She still couldn’t believe how that memory had slipped right through her fingers and snapped back in place. In all the times she had used her gift to clear minds, she had never experienced such a failure. And to make matters worse, after she’d faltered with the memory, Colum had even managed to oust her from his mind—and warned her to stay out.
Granny had said it was because he had become such an important part of her life and grown too familiar with her energy. The Fates placed strict rules and limits on the gifts for a reason.
Kenna huffed a frustrated sigh, the lessons of time runner lore steam-rolled through her mind. The Fates—three entities some might even call goddesses—watched over the Sinclair time runners—tended all time runners in fact—like strict, protective mothers determined for their charges to always behave with honor, valor and respect.
She closed her eyes, remembering Granny’s bedtime stories that were thinly veiled lessons. Urd, Verdandi and Skuld. Those were the rarely spoken names of the hallowed three. The three who decided each individual’s fate at birth. After selecting a child’s path, the Fates spun the chosen destinies into the threads of that child’s life.
Urd, the mature one, the crone, ruled over the past, ensuring the cloth of time stayed as smooth as silk across the continuum. Verdandi, the mother, nurtured and cared for the present. Skuld, the youngest, and by far the most quick-tempered, looked after the future and ensured it unfolded as the three had ordained.
Above all else she had ever been taught, Kenna knew that the three’s carefully selected fate and destiny had to be respected. The threads of life woven by the blessed three must never be altered without explicit approval before hand. If the Sinclair bloodline attempted to abuse their powers, especially to manipulate those closest to them and tamper with events, there would be hell to pay—literally. One Sinclair, long ago, had attempted just such a thing and the results had been disastrous. The Fates ordained that some things were just meant to be and had to be accepted as such.
Wistful jealousy weighed down Kenna’s heart as Trulie cooed and comforted little Chloe and then took the baby to her breast. It wasn’t fair. She wanted what Trulie and Gray had, and she wanted it right now. “I’m gonna find a way to make him ask me.”
Trulie didn’t look up, just kept smiling down at her tiny daughter. “Best of luck, Sister. My money’s on you.”
CHAPTER15
“Iown a sword and a shield. Not a thing more. Even Rua belongs to Clan MacKenna’s stables.” Colum slung the excess water from the stone, then slid it down the blade’s edge. The gritty rasp of rock against metal echoed the frustration grating through every fiber of his being. “Lady Kenna deserves better. As Clan MacKenna’s man-at-arms I am below her station. Ye know I speak the truth.”
“I know ye are a damned fool. Yer blood may not be that of a MacKenna, but ye are a brother to me just the same. Ye ken that—or at least ye should by now.” Gray paced up and down the dirt floor of the stable, hands clasped to the small of his back. “And ye have land. A fine corner of MacKenna land, no less. The lass could help ye build a home. All ye need do is have the marriage contract drawn and wed the woman. Set the date, man, and take the Lady Kenna to wife.”
“I willna curse the woman I love to wed a man with naught but a plaid to protect her from the cold.” Colum plunged the whetstone back into the water bucket, rolling its cold smooth weight in his hand. He slung the excess water free again and returned to sliding it up and down the shining metal.
“The Lady Kenna willna wait forever. Sinclair women have verra little patience.” Gray halted mid-stride, then turned and fixed Colum with a meaningful scowl. “Trust me. I know. My wife has made it quite clear that ye best get on with the marrying of her sister. The Lady Trulie grows weary of her sister’s unhappiness—the unhappiness yer stubborn arse has caused.”
Colum bit back the response begging to be spoken. When he chose to marry was none of the Lady Trulie’s business—chieftain’s wife or not. But the MacKenna’s warning fanned the coals of uncertainty already burning in his gut. “What the hell do ye mean that the Lady Kenna willna wait forever?”
Kenna loved him as much as he loved her, of that he was certain. He just needed time. Time to figure out how best to become worthy of her. He eased his sword down across the bench, then pulled a short-bladed dagger from the sheath sewn inside his boot.
“Sutherland has sent word.” Gray’s voice deepened as he leaned back against the weathered boards of an empty stall. “We expect him. Soon.” The ancient boards creaked and groaned with Gray’s every move, as though echoing his warning.
“Sent word?” Colum didn’t look up from the knife and whetstone as he ran it down the steel of the blade. “And expect him for what?” The question was needless. He knew exactly what Sutherland wanted. The old chieftain was sniffing out his next wife like a stag in full rut.
Gray’s weary sigh echoed through the peacefulness of the stable. “Ye knowfor whatas well as I. It has been a year since his last wife died. And it didna take long for news of the lovely—and available I might add—Sinclair sister to make its way to him across the Highlands.”
“Mother Sinclair has clearly made it known that the Lady Kenna willna be married off to a man not of her choosing. And she is not available. All here know my intentions, as well as Lady Kenna’s.” Colum held up the blade to the fading light of the window and traced his thumb along the razor-sharp edge. Perfect. Sharp and true—just as his certainty that he must wait to wed Kenna until all was properly readied.
Colum tossed the whetstone onto the bench and dried the blade in a fold of his plaid. “Heaven help the man foolish enough to cross Mother Sinclair. Or me.”
Gray shifted his weight, rubbing his back against the rough boards like a massive bear scratching against a tree. “Sutherland’s messenger was quite clear that the man considers Lady Kenna unattached and officially available.” The worn planks groaned as Gray pushed away from the stall and leveled a warning finger at Colum. “Wake up, man. He means to have yer Lady Kenna, and ye know the rumors about him.”
Murderous fury surged through Colum like a roaring blaze. He jammed the knife back in its sheath and jumped up from the bench. Jealous rage transformed his words into a low-throated growl. “Kenna ismine.”
“Not until ye make it official.” Gray rested a hand on Colum’s shoulder for a brief moment, then moved toward the stable door. “Whether ye have a croft or a cave, ye best be making her yer wife before someone steals her out from under yer overly prideful nose. Other suitors that sniffed about have been easily spurned. But ye know Sutherland. The man will never be swayed by anything less than knowing that Lady Kenna is already married.”
Colum stared down at the hard-packed ground, littered with fresh clean straw. His knuckles cracked as his hands tensed into shaking fists. The stable door creaked out a low grinding whine, then shut with a soft bang as Gray left him with his troubled thoughts.
How the hell could he take Kenna to wife when he had so little to offer? He needed more time. Time to build a fine keep worthy of her. A safe place. A secure place fit to be filled with the laughter of their children.
