She wished they would get a bit closer so she could hear their conversation. So far, only bits and pieces of commentary had made it to her. The two men seemed at ease with each other, so surely, Sutherland couldn’t be as bad as all the gossip had warned.
“I think he’s handsome,” Coira whispered with a wistful sigh. “I wish such a fine man was coming to see me.”
Poor Coira. Being a young maid and best friend to the chieftain’s wife and her odd sister couldn’t be easy. The blossoming young woman had to be lonely—especially since Granny kept so close a watch over her, as though she were one of Granny’s own.
Kenna slid back on the bench. “By the way, how did you get away from Granny? Does she know you’re back here spying?”
“Mistress Trulie sent me here to find out about this latest suitor and Mother Sinclair agreed. For a reason I dinna ken, Mother Sinclair is truly interested in this one.” Coira scooted back from the tapestry and relaxed against the high back of the wooden bench. “Mother Sinclair and Mistress Trulie both said they heard rumors that Chieftain Sutherland willna take nay for an answer.”
“I don’t see how Chieftain Sutherland has much choice this time.” Kenna paused, held up a hand for silence, and angled her head closer to the tapestry. The bits and pieces of conversation had shifted to something about hospitality, and then rumbling laughter had poured across the room. What were the men saying and why did it seem like they were old friends? Gray said he had only come across Sutherland once before, during a visit to the king’s court.
Kenna frowned at the puzzle and turned back to Coira. “I love Colum. I don’t care if we live in a three-sided tent once we’re married. I’m not going to marry anyone else. Chieftain Sutherland is out of luck.”
“Mother Sinclair said—”
Kenna held up her hand again. “Until Granny can come up with a way to get Colum to marry me, I really don’t want to know each and every epiphany she has spouted on the subject of suitors.”
Coira snapped her mouth shut into a sullen pout. Her lower lip quivered as she turned away and feigned unprecedented interest in a good-sized cobweb floating down from the stone arch of the alcove. “As ye wish. I shall say no more on the matter. ’Tis obvious ye have no need of anyone’s help, not Mother Sinclair’s and most especially not mine.”
Kenna shifted to a more comfortable position among the pillows and blew out an aggravated huff. Apparently, Coira had gleaned enough information to make her uncharacteristically testy and she was going to sull up like an overstuffed possum if she didn’t get to share it. “I’m sorry, Coira. I’m just getting a little tired of this . . . predicament.”
“Mother Sinclair said—” Coira stopped, tensed her mouth into a pursed line of frustration, then continued with a jerk of her head. “The lot of us found out that Chieftain Ronan Sutherland has had two wives. Both died while giving birth and neither of the babes lived.”
“That’s awful,” Kenna whispered. Poor man. No wonder he dressed in black.
“He also obtained both wives by kidnapping them.” Coira leaned forward and laid a hand on Kenna’s wrist. “The clans of both women had declined his offers of marriage. But instead of returning to his home and seeking out someone else, he stole the women away and took them with him.”
“Didn’t their families try to get them back?” A cold shiver ran down Kenna’s spine as she returned to the spy hole and strained for another look.
“Nay, mistress,” Coira whispered as she pressed her face to the other slit in the weave. “Mother Sinclair said neither family seemed to have a problem with it, especially since it got them out of paying the dowry. Kidnapping a wife is verra acceptable in Scotland.” Coira shrugged as she scooted back from the tapestry. “All must have ended well. Both women were well with child by the time the families made it to Sutherland’s keep to check on them.”
“How far apart were these marriages?” The way Coira talked; it sounded as though the man went through wives faster than Cook went through firewood.
Coira frowned and silently counted on her fingers. “I think it has been nigh on over a year now since the most recent wife died. Seems like Mother Sinclair said there were maybe five years between the first one and this last one.”
Well, that wasn’t so bad. Kenna scooted across the bench and pushed Coira back into the pillows. “Move over. They’re on your side now.”
“Mistress! I canna move a bit more.” Coira huffed as she flattened herself against the far wall.
Kenna ignored Coira and studied Chieftain Sutherland as the men walked away. He didn’t look like some crazy woman stealer. In fact, he seemed on pretty amicable terms with Gray. Just as she decided Sutherland wasn’t such a bad man, he stopped, turned, and stared back at the tapestry. She held her breath. If she didn’t know better, she would swear the man was looking right at her. Then a corner of his mouth curled upward as he nodded a short respectful bow and winked.
CHAPTER17
Colum sat stiffly on the narrow bench, barely nodding when the serving girl plunked a tankard of ale down on the wide table in front of him. Nothing else existed but the object of his anger. He glared across the room. There sat Sutherland, pompous as a game bird strutting about for a mate. The man’s smug expression reminded him of Granny’s wicked cat after the feline had been caught sampling the stuffing for Cook’s meat pies.
Sutherland leaned in close to Gray and shared something behind the cover of his hand. Gray’s deep rolling laughter echoed across the long hall as the chieftain nodded in agreement with whatever Sutherland had just said.
Colum shifted forward, every muscle tensed. Silently, he cursed Gray, knowing full well the game the man played. He couldn’t take Kenna as wife until the proper time. Gray knew that.
“Ye best get over there and stake yer claim afore the Lady Kenna arrives.” A deep belch rumbled beside Colum, followed by a sharp elbow nudged in his ribs.
“Do ye not have a maid to charm, Diarmuid?” Colum pulled the cool metal of the tankard closer and encircled it with both hands. That’s all he needed right now—advice from a man who still prided himself on the fact he enjoyed a different woman every night.
He scowled down into his cup, sneering at his reflection rippling on the amber liquid. The irony of his opinion of Diarmuid made him snort. He had been just like him until he met Kenna. And now—now that he strived to do right by her, he risked losing the only woman he could never dream of letting go. How had things come to this?
“I’ll tend to the maids later,” Diarmuid said. He leaned shoulder to shoulder against Colum and nodded at the guests seated at the chieftain’s table.
The raised dais with the honored seats for the chieftain’s family and visitors was positioned several feet in front of the main hearth. No fire burned this evening. None was needed with so many in the hall.
