Who the hell was this woman? Colum bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Since when did Kenna act as breathy and flirtatious as a serving wench looking for a quick tumble?
A warning glance from Gray pushed him back in place beside the tapestry. He clenched his sword until his hand ached. Lore, what he wouldn’t give to cleave Sutherland’s silver head from his shoulders and set it on a pike in the center of the bailey.
“Perhaps the lady will see fit to join me in the garden for a breath of air after we enjoy this evening’s meal? It would give us an opportunity to get to know one another better.” Sutherland had moved to Kenna’s side and offered his arm as soon as Gray took his seat.
Colum’s fist tightened on the pommel of his sword. Just as he suspected, not only did Sutherland walk Kenna to her seat, but the bastard plopped his arse down in the chair beside her. Serving maids hurried to gather the visiting chieftain’s plate and glass and relocate them to his new position.
“Ahem!” Mother Sinclair thumped the heel of her knife hard on the table and sat taller in her chair. “The only way the Lady Kenna walks in the garden with you is if I go too.” Mother Sinclair’s high-pitched voice increased in volume and rang out across the hall. “The Lady Kenna goes nowhere without a suitable chaperone.”
A tittering of laughter rippled through the crowd. All knew no man could best Mother Sinclair.
Colum relaxed a bit. Perhaps he wouldn’t be forced to kill Sutherland after all. If the man crossed Mother Sinclair, the feisty old woman wouldn’t leave enough of Sutherland to pray over.
Sutherland turned and nodded at the tiny old woman sitting at the other end of the long table. “It would be my honor to escort two such lovely ladies through the gardens.”
“Hmpf.” Granny made a face as though she had just tasted something vile. “Don’t try to charm me with pretty words. I’ve heard them all.”
Tamhas, looking a bit tattered around the edges with his overlong hair and grizzled beard, leaned in close and whispered in Granny’s ear. He rumbled out a soft chuckle as he slid an arthritic hand onto her narrow, blue-veined fingers resting beside her tankard.
Mother Sinclair’s face softened into a smile as she covered Tamhas’s hand with hers. Then her smile shifted back into a stern mask as she sat up straighter and cleared her throat again. “Whatever Kenna wishes.”
Sutherland smiled and turned back to Kenna. He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed it with an overly long kiss. “What say ye, my lady?”
Colum ground his teeth as Kenna smiled up into the man’s eyes. Indignant rage surged through him as Kenna beamed even brighter and coyly tilted her head. “I think an evening stroll through the gardens would be quite lovely.”
Colum could take no more. He strode forward. “My chieftain—”
All heads turned toward him. A warning look settled on Gray’s face as he waited for Colum to speak.
“I would . . . ” Colum’s voice trailed off as Gray lowered his chin the barest bit, just enough that Colum saw it.
“Ye would make the toast?” Gray supplied, speaking the words slowly. His voice echoed with clear intent.
Colum’s temper abated the slightest bit. Gray was right: now was not the time for a confrontation or challenge. Sutherland had acted the perfect, polite guest—so far. As much as he wanted to slit the old chieftain’s throat, it would be less than honorable to treat the powerful man so rudely. Not only would it cast Clan MacKenna in an unsavory light but killing Sutherland would more than likely infuriate the living hell out of Kenna. The woman abhorred bloodshed. He could already hear her exasperated rant.“You wouldn’t claim me as your own until you got so jealous your temper killed an innocent man? What the hell is wrong with you?”
He sucked in a deep breath, tamped down the temper passed on from his warring ancestry, and nodded. “Aye.” He pulled a full tankard from the wooden tray balanced on the serving girl’s shoulder. He raised the mug high in the air and roared the MacKenna cry.“Aut agere aut mori.”
Either action or death.
CHAPTER18
Colum edged deeper into the shadows. As the shining orb of the moon climbed higher, the darkness surrounding the scattered clusters of shrubs and trees in the private garden slowly disappeared. He backed tighter against the stone wall guarding the circumference of the grounds. Where the hell were they? Kenna had agreed to walk with Sutherland in the gardens. He had distinctly heard her say it, even though his rage had nearly blinded him to everything but the vision of Sutherland’s neck snapping between his hands.
A gentle breeze skittered dried leaves across the ground. Somewhere nearby a brittle twig snapped beneath a foot. He held his breath and listened closer. The soft murmur of voices floated to him through the cool night air. That had to be them, although, for the life of him, Colum couldn’t pick out Sutherland’s voice. He had no need to see the man in order to identify him. Sutherland’s voice was deeper than most and had an oddly lyrical cadence.
The speakers currently walking through the garden sounded more like a couple of women. Colum leaned toward the sound and concentrated. Aye. Women. Kenna and Mother Sinclair.
“Why don’t you go back upstairs? This cool damp air can’t be easy on your bones. And your limping is worse. Is your hip bothering you again?” Kenna’s face seemed to glow as she quietly fretted about the older woman. Her fair skin shimmered pale and unhappy beneath the eerie light of the moon. The hood of her cloak slipped back to her shoulders as she kicked a stone out of her grandmother’s path. She moved slowly beside Mother Sinclair’s bent form, one arm supporting the slight woman’s extended arm.
“I am fine.” Mother Sinclair slowly straightened and squared her narrow shoulders. Her arthritic knuckles glistened white as she clutched her staff, carefully setting it with each step. She shook a bent finger through the air as she spoke, keeping perfect time with her words. “A walk before bedtime is good for the soul. It prepares the body to travel the world of dreams. And besides, you have no business walking in the garden alone after telling Sutherland you were too tired from helping with the baby to walk with him.”
A black form flitted out from the darkest shadows and darted toward the women. Colum tensed, then relaxed back against the cold stone wall. It was not some dangerous animal. Only the wicked feline, Kismet. The irritating cat must be hunting among the herbs and flowers. ’Twas about time the wee troublemaker did something other than stir mischief.
“There is my Kismet.” Mother Sinclair bent and trailed a hand across the cat’s sleek back. “Have you been enjoying the moonlight too, old friend?”
The cat responded with a ringingtwrrpppas she wove back and forth under the elderly woman’s hand. The golden-eyed feline glanced toward the shadows where Colum hid, flattened her ears, and hissed.
Colum held his breath as Mother Sinclair looked where Kismet directed, squinting over the tops of her glasses. He tensed as the matriarch’s sweeping gaze reached him and paused for a brief second before moving on.
